Sometimes she hated surveillance.
Today was one of those times. She needed to find a less conspicuous place to ride out her watch. She couldn’t be sure whether he’d led her here intentionally. He would know that any interested parties could easily find out the names of the building residents.
In fact, the job would only take about two minutes of uninterrupted satellite uplink on her notebook. But Lindy stuck to her spot. If her target reappeared on the stairwell, he just might cut that time in half by showing her what floor he went to…
Luck was hers.
He took the stairs two at a time, not at a bound but with the fluid strides of a strong, long-legged man. Since he didn’t use the lift, she knew he only headed up a few flights, so, slipping the binoculars up her nose, she enjoyed the show.
Those lead-paned glass windows showcased the man as if he’d posed for a bloody portrait—and quite the dishy one at that. Zooming in closer, she admired the way his thighs played against his slacks with his movements, how the fabric pulled enough to give her a clear shot of his backside.
Mmm-mmm. Joshua Benedict’s profile had missed the part about him having the nicest bum she’d seen in forever, the kind that made a gal think about smoothing her hands over it. Lindy might have laughed at her own unexpected reaction to a target, but her instincts chose that exact moment to go live.
She spun around just as a no-nonsense voice barked, “Excuse me, miss.”
Not at all used to being taken by surprise, Lindy schooled her expression and stared at the uniformed security guard who frowned down at her from his superior vantage.
“Hullo, Constable,” she said cheerily, letting a bit of her British accent leak out.
She slipped off the sunglasses—the magnification made the man look like the worst sort of Picasso—and maintained eye contact. “Lovely spring afty, don’t you think?”
The man’s gaze didn’t waver, which suggested he wasn’t going to fall easy victim to her charm. Good for him.
“Not interested in the weather this afternoon. I’m interested in why you’re loitering.”
“Loitering?” She gave a sparkly laugh and toyed with the idea of admitting she’d been staring at a man’s bum.
A definite first in her experience.
But as the security guard looked all tetchy and by the book—relatively new to his job, she guessed—Lindy opted for a more conservative approach.
“Actually, I’m here on business.” She patted her carryall. “I’m with Hampstead, Heath and Associates. We’re based out of London with offices all over Europe and Asia. We’re scouting a North American site. Of course, the CEO will need housing if we open a location here. That’s where I come in—I’m checking out the neighborhood.” She tossed a glance back at the building, and the guard followed her gaze, clearly wavering.
“Do you have identification?”
“Of course. If you’ll let me go into my bag, Constable, I’ll give you my card. And my passport if you need it.”
The man inclined his head then stepped back to give her space. She produced a passport and business card that supported her claim and stood quietly while he inspected her credentials.
Americans were hyper-security conscious nowadays and rightly so, but that this guard would catch her with her binoculars snagged on a pretty sight and her usually sharp senses blinded to her surroundings was just plain unlucky.
Lindy was a stellar field agent, which was precisely why she’d been assigned this case. But she hadn’t done much more than surveillance yet, and for things to go pear- shaped so early on…she hoped this didn’t foreshadow what lay ahead.
“All right.” The guard gave a curt nod. “What else do you need before you can move on?”
“Nothing really. I’ve already researched the demographics on this and the other buildings we’re considering. The big boys will let me know which leasing agencies to make contact with, but I’ll be sure to tell them this co-op has the best security of the bunch.”
That earned a smile. “Well then, good day, miss.”
It was an obvious effort to move her along, so Lindy returned his smile, hiked her carryall higher on her shoulder and shoved off with a bright, “You have a good one, too.”
She could feel the guard’s gaze follow her down the street, where she rounded the first corner and ducked inside a conveniently located subway station to regroup.
Lindy had to act fast because she had no intention of losing sight of her target now. She had to return to that co-op without drawing the security guard’s attention again. No problem. Lindy liked challenges.
She hoped Joshua Benedict proved to be one.
JOSHUA NOTICED the woman as soon as she entered the gallery. Amid the attendees of the Classical Greek Antiquities exhibit opening, she somehow managed to look…fresh—no easy job in this human sea of designer labels, artful grooming and cosmetically-enhanced perfection.
Curious, he studied her from his position near a marble diorama of the Graces, where he sipped Moët and chatted with the exhibit’s benefactress, Lily Covington.
Perhaps Lily chatting with him better described what took place, as the society matron hadn’t stopped to draw air in a while. But Joshua didn’t mind participating in any conversation that left him free to observe this beauty who paused to admire an oil painting of Artemus with a quiver of arrows.
Maybe it was her flawless skin, touched with only the barest color to enhance a mouth designed to kiss. She wore a chiffon gown to distinguish her from the crowd of the flashy sequins and beads that defined American haute couture, the filmy off-white gown clinging to her body with classic lines hinting at all the long curves below.
She was subtle seduction as opposed to bold temptation, a woman who made him imagine two bodies close in the darkness and the sound of breathless sighs. Soft brown hair fringed around her face and neck, sexy for the way it framed her features. His gaze followed the graceful lines of her throat, and the pulse beating there, another place ripe for kissing.
He would have noticed this woman even if the gala kicking off this new exhibit hadn’t been a bore. But he couldn’t fault his hostess. As a member of the Covington family—one of the mainstays on the NewYork society scene since somewhere around the mid-nineteenth century—Lily had perfected hosting philanthropic events into an art form.
Select members of the Westbrook Philharmonic filled the gallery with music. Le Kevin, hailed as Manhattan’s latest culinary genius, catered the event with a menu of shellfish flown in from Maine and delicate hand-pressed pasta that melted on the tongue. Champagne flowed.
But not even Moët could wash away the taste of the business that had brought him to New York.
No, he assumed all responsibility for his current mood.
Forcing a smile, Joshua mouthed all the polite responses to Lily’s comments about the Graces under discussion while covertly checking out the lady in white, as he christened her.
The sight of her, at least, improved his mood.
He watched her accept a champagne flute from a passing waiter, the gesture graceful, her smile fast and real. There it was again…that impression.
This woman struck him as having much beneath her surface that she didn’t bother to hide. It was only a sense he got from watching her, but he didn’t question his perception. He was an exceptional judge of character.
A skill that always served him well.
Putting