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Claire stretched out in bed, allowing her hand to slide down her body to reach between her legs to tickle her clit and play with her pussy. She began to rub her swollen nub, looking for some relief from the pent-up stress as she pinched her own nipples. It would be easier if she used her vibrator, but she didn’t want to stop.
Normally, she just focused on the pleasure she was giving herself, but tonight she was distracted by all she had to do and the fact that twice she had failed to achieve her goal. Claire didn’t like losing and didn’t have much practice at it. She closed her eyes and the man in the bad tuxedo stood before her. Only this time he didn’t have on a tuxedo. In fact, he didn’t have on anything at all.
She could well imagine how all of those muscles resulting in broad shoulders, sculpted pecs, and washboard abs went with his handsome face and big dick. He had to have a big dick, right? Big, hard, and fully engorged—it would take a licking and keep on ticking. Yeah, that was the ticket. She could feel her body starting to ramp up as she pinched her nipples tighter and rubbed her clit, imagining that it was him.
“Next time, sweetheart. Next time,” he crooned to her as her orgasm crashed down all around her and she cried out, allowing the intense pleasure to suffuse her system.
Sitting up in bed, she realized the night was lost to finding sleep. Sleep would come when she had obtained her prize. The question now was which prize she wanted more—the necklace or the man?
CHAPTER5
Claire
To some, the idea of taking the underground into London on a lovely, sunny day would seem incongruous. But to Claire, it was an easy, quick way into the city and meant she didn’t have to worry about a vehicle. There were so many ways to travel from Greenwich to London—train, underground, boat—that not having to worry about a vehicle made the decision easy. She supposed for most, the underground would have been the least likely choice, but for Claire, the darkness seemed more anonymous, and exiting with a crowd of people meant the CCTV would have more trouble spotting her.
Claire had opted for a crinkled bohemian skirt, a belted sweater that fell past her ass, and her riding boots. She’d thought about using the headband to obscure her face, but Mia was right—it did kind of look like a tiara. Besides, it would be harder to explain why she didn’t show up on the museum’s video footage when she was meeting with Pennington, the director of the museum. She would be wearing her ‘fancy’ glasses but figured with her hair up in a messy bun they fit the art restorer/nerdy vibe. She also figured she’d be able to fit into her surroundings better.
She had to get her head into the game. Sleep last night had been elusive at best. The past few nights, the man in the rumpled tuxedo had invaded her thoughts and dreams. Trying to focus on the job at hand was proving to be more difficult than it had ever been. Who was he? The reality was, she’d probably never know, and she reminded herself, that was as it should be. She didn’t have time for a relationship. Did that exclude having an intense sexual interlude with him for a weekend? Not necessarily.
The underground train pulled into the station and Claire exited with the other commuters and headed up the steps onto London’s busy streets. It was a short walk to Mia’s home, where she was already getting set up for their surveillance and video of the venue and the necklace’s location.
Mia answered the knock on her door, hustling her inside.
“Problem?” Claire asked.
“Not necessarily, but I did reach out to Lizzie, and she was able to track the cyber hits and jamming we encountered back to a high-end security group: Silver Arrow Security. She couldn’t get past their firewalls, and neither can I. To tell the truth, this group is really off the general public’s radar. Where Cerberus is written about all the time, very few people know about Silver Arrow. I can’t even find any kind of corporate information listing the owner or owners. All very hush-hush.”
“Why would they be looking at us?”
“Conjecture only, but maybe the current owner or the current owner’s insurance agency brought them in after our first attempt.”
“How good are they?” asked Claire.
“I asked Lizzie the same question, only I asked how dangerous this level of subterfuge and camouflage made them, and she said: ‘very.’ So we need to be careful and you need to ask yourself if it’s worth taking you out. I know you don’t care nearly as much about your personal safety as you do mine, but if something happens to you, who’s going to play Robin Hood for the rest of these people?”
“I know you’re right; I do. I just hate being beaten. I tell you what, how about this is our last shot at the Grenadine Necklace? If I can’t snatch it this time, we’ll consider it gone. And from now on, if we can’t get it the first time, we walk away.”
“And after tomorrow, we lay low for a few months?”
“Deal. Maybe we’ll take some time and go check out the cabana boys in Aruba for a month—maybe take a cruise back to the UK.”
“Can we have some of those drinks with the little umbrellas in them? I’ve always wanted one of those.”
“Done,” Claire said, smiling at how Mia’s whole body seemed to relax—the tension gone from her body and her eyes softening. “Do you have my glasses ready?”
Mia nodded. “I do, indeed. Why this particular pair?”
“Because I wanted them to go with my outfit and they fit the whole Claire Mitchell, Art Restorer vibe. I need to look like I belong at these museums, galleries, and charity events. My granda used to always say ‘hide in plain sight.’”
Within minutes, Claire was headed out of Mia’s house and to the Met. She entered the bright, shiny, modern building, which she knew had been inspired by the Louvre’s pyramid. It seemed incongruous that a building of light and glass housed incredible exhibits of the old-world Masters.
Stopping at the reception desk, she asked for Edgar Pennington.
The woman looked her up and down and all but wrinkled her nose at Claire’s bohemian style. “I’m sorry, but the director doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.”
“I have an appointment,” Claire said. “In fact, Mr. Pennington is the one who made it. I’m Claire Mitchell. If he’s changed his mind…”
“Dr. Mitchell, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. Yes, you are on the director’s schedule, but I also know you are one of the few people who wouldn’t need to be. He would clear everything off his schedule in order to meet with you. If you’ll just follow me…”
