Billionaires Prefer Blondes by Suzanne Enoch

Author:Suzanne Enoch [Enoch, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Over the next two hours, Samantha compiled a list of a half dozen possible Hogarth buyers, and twice that many potential victims for her pending cat burglary. As for who Veittsreig’s boss might be, two of these guys she knew to be in the business of obtaining “relocated” items, but one of them specialized in Egyptian antiquities, and the other tended to like modern art over British masters. That left four, none of whom she was certain about.

In a great many ways, working the crowd like that was more difficult than climbing through somebody’s second-story window and making off with a box of diamonds. Face-to-face work, sizing up a mark, scouting a location before she pulled a job—she’d done it before, on countless occasions, but not when it mattered what they thought of her. In the old days she’d been in disguise, literal or figurative, and who she’d pretended to be had depended on what she was looking to get. Tonight, she’d come in as Sam Jellicoe, significant other to Rick Addison. And she would leave the same way, and she’d be that same person tomorrow.

“Aren’t you just the belle of the ball,” Patricia’s cool voice came from the foot of the stairs.

Samantha had seen the way Rick had greeted the Ex. Whatever her personal feelings toward Patricia, she would take her cue from him. After all, he’d been the injured party. She hadn’t known him back then, except as a face on the cover of a magazine, and as a legend among cat burglars—the man who’d to that point been robbery-proof.

“Hi, Patty,” she said.

“I am going to tell you one last time that I hate being called Patty,” the Ex murmured, gliding closer, blonde hair perfectly coiffed, and her black and gold Donna Karan dress definitely not off the rack.

“I’m waiting for you to call a truce before I lay down my weapons,” Samantha returned. “Rick said you’re here by yourself tonight.”

“What of it? Do you think I couldn’t have found a date if I’d wan—”

“That’s cool,” Samantha interrupted. “The new Patricia. Walks in how she wants, and walks out how she wants. No men required.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Sam took a step closer, willing to risk having a glass of wine thrown in her face. “Just so you know, Boyden Locke has been looking at you all night. He went through a sticky divorce about seven years ago, and he didn’t have a date tonight, either. Not even for his own party.”

“He’s a little old for me, don’t you think?”

“He’s forty-eight. I’m not trying to fix you up. I’m just stating a few facts.”

Patricia looked at her for a long moment. “I’m not calling a truce,” she said, “but I suppose this is a beginning—as long as you’re not trying to rally me.”

“That means kid you, right?”

“Americans,” the Ex muttered. “Yes.”

“Then no, I’m not rallying you.” Locke definitely wasn’t her type—pompous and flamboyant—but he was rich, which made him Patty’s type.

Across the room Rick broke away from the Trump and Locke power triangle and headed in her direction.

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