Miss Fortune (39 page)

You said you needed to tell me some things, she said, folding her arms across her middle.

Nothing was ever easy, was it? Right you are, he said, sighing. I needed to tell you that Im daft. That I made a horrible mistakenot once, but twice. First, in that I should have told you that I feel quite strongly about you

Here we go, she muttered, dropping her gaze.

Flynn slipped a finger under her chin and forced her gaze up. I do , he said in all seriousness. Look at me now, will you, all atwitter, bearing gifts, begging for mercy. Why would I do that if I werent absolutely mad for you?

Really? she asked, trying to look skeptical, but looking more hopeful.

Really . Fantastically so. And the second thing I had to tell you was that my work crisis was a horrid fate of timing, but I should have called.

She smiled timidly, punched him playfully in the chest. You should have.

She was forgiving him too easily. There are more things I am certain I should tell you, really such as my grades were absolutely abominable in history.

Rachel laughed.

Im quite serious. My mother used to cry huge crocodile tears when I couldnt name the order of the monarchy. And when I was a small boy, I was a bit chubby, and the other lads called me Sir Fatalot.

That earned him a gay laugh, and Flynn kissed her neck, put his hands on her waist, sliding them up beneath her sweater, tugging her camisole from her skirt, so that he could touch her skin.

That cant be all, she murmured, her hands dropping to the table, bracing herself against it.

I cant abide sushi.

No?

Not in the least, he said, and pressed his mouth to her neck, let his hands travel up to her breasts. And I cannot, he said, filling his hands with her heavy breasts, resist you. I adore you completely He buried his face in the crook of her neck as his hands splayed across her breasts, pinching the nipples between his fingers, feeling them grow and harden in his hands.

Rachel sighed softly and dropped her head against his shoulder as he continued to knead her breasts.

I have thought of little else but you these last two days. I want to be inside you again, Rachel. I want to be deep inside you, fill you up completely. With a gentle push, he spread her legs apart with his knee and pushed her sweater and camisole higher, stooping down to take her breasts in his mouth, nibbling their peaks.

I want you inside me, she whispered above him, and her fingers sank into his hair, pulling his head into her breasts.

Flynn rose up and kissed her mouth, pulled her sweater above her head, carelessly tossing it onto the table as he stood back to admire her. They were perfect, those breasts, and he could not resist taking them in hand again, feeling their dense weight in his palm. But then he slowly turned her around, so that she was facing the table away from him, and let his hands slide over the silky skin of her back, then around her waist, to her belly, and slipped into the waistband of her skirt, to inside her panties.

Rachel sighed again; her head dropped forward. She was wet, and the feel of it kicked him into male overdrive. His body was on fire now, desperate to make love to her, to feel her squeeze around him.

She leaned across the table, her arms spreading along the table to steady herself, and she moved her legs farther apart. Somehow, Flynn managed to undo his pants, dropping them to his knees. He snaked an arm around Rachel, pulling her to him, and leaned over, his mouth on her ear, her neck. You drive me mad with desire, he muttered as he pulled her skirt up with his free hand. I cant see you without wanting to shag you.

Oh , she moaned as his hand slipped deeper into her panties. Keep going, keep on.

It was all the invitation he needed. He pushed her panties down and lifted her skirt. She was bent over the table now, her hips soft and inviting. Flynn positioned himself between her legs, stroked her again until she was slick, and guided himself into her. Rachel instantly arched her back, threw her head back with a long, breathy sigh, and then groaned again, grasping at the table as he began to move in her, his cock sliding in and out, his hand caressing her sex.

It was not a long encountershe was soon bucking against him, urging him faster, rubbing against his handand Flynn could hardly contain himself. She was hot and tight around him, squeezing against him with each thrust, and her hand, which now covered his, was urging him harder. He could feel her body tensing beneath his, could see the arch of her neck and the thrust of her hips into his, and felt himself sliding down the slippery slope to an astounding orgasm.

By some miracle, they slid together, landing in that pool of ecstasy at almost the very same moment, each gasping and crying out as their bodies shuddered against each other.

They remained bent over the dining table for a moment, spent and gasping for breath, their clothing in disarray. It was Rachel who started to laugh first, giggling beneath him, then turning her head to smile at him. I accept your apology, she said, and Flynn laughed, too, pressed his face against her nape, inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, his hands warm and tight around her until she moved, to get up.

They resumed their dress; Rachel shook out her skirt, smiling at him so happily that he had a pang of conscience as she slipped the camisole over her head.

He couldnt resist her; he kissed her again as she pulled the camisole down. There are some things Id like to explain, he said, zipping his pants.

Right, she said, gathering up her sweater to put it on. And I want to hear it all. But at the moment, Im ravenous , she said, kissing the corner of his mouth. Ive got some leftover turkey and dressing, she said, pulling the sweater over her head, then fishing her hair from the collar. But the dressing burned, she said with a laugh. She put her arms around his waist, hugged him tight for a moment, then let go. Im just going to get it out and heat it up, she said, and disappeared once more into the kitchen.

Flynn arranged his clothing, combed his hair with his fingers, and glanced at the table.

It took only a fraction of a second to spot the thing he most dreadeda museum piece. He supposed he hadnt noticed it earlier, as her sweater had covered it, but there was no mistakethere, next to the flowers, was a hand-blown glass bowl, gilded and hand painted. Venetian, about three hundred years old. Worth, hed guess, about fifteen hundred dollars. Fuck , he whispered.

The phone began to ring; Rachel came through the kitchen door, her smile luminous as she passed him to get to the phone, her eyes bright and full of emotion that he understood explicitly, for he felt it deeply.

Only his heart was in his throat.

She grabbed up the phone. Hello? Hey, Dagne! she said brightly. Listen, I Her smile disappeared; her eyes went wide, and she suddenly looked at Flynn. Get out! What station? Are you serious? I mean, are you okay, okay, Ill do it right now, she said, and laughing, clicked off the phone and grabbed up the remote to the telly.

My friend Dagne, she explained. That nut is on the news! The telly flickered on; Rachel changed the channel to a local news program and gasped. It is Dagne! she cried excitedly, and pointed.

Flynn walked into the living room and looked at the newscast. A local news reporter was in some cavernous coliseum, where all sorts of people were milling about.

Rachel laughed. Its that show you know, the one where they travel around and people bring their antique heirlooms and find out if they are valuable or not, she said excitedly.

The newscaster was saying that several local people had come down with family heirlooms and would be featured in a future program of the antique show. And then he stepped aside, and Flynn recognized Dagne Delaney but more importantly, he recognized the thing that made his heart seizethe valuable Joseph Badger portrait, Colonial Woman .

He could not believe what he was seeingit was im-possible that they would think to bring that prized portrait to some antique show! Apparently, the host thought the same, because he looked at Dagne with some shock, then took the picture from herwhatever he said was lost in the drone of the newscasterbut Flynn watched as he rubbed a corner of the portrait with his finger. At last the newscaster shut up and turned around to listen.

Where did you say you came across this painting? the man asked Dagne.

A friend of mine has a lot of stuff like this in her house, she said proudly.

Then she is one lucky woman, Miss Delaney. This would need to authenticated, but if you will look at the lines, here, and the particular style, and here again, the use of monochromatic colors, and the type of oil paint well, its obvious that this is a piece that is quite old.

Really? Dagne asked, looking horribly confused.

Right, Rachel said laughingly. Really oldlike 2001.

And do you see the name here that Ive uncovered? the host asked, and Dagne leaned forward, so far forward as to obscure the cameras view, then leaned back, nodding like a child.

The name is Joseph Badger. Joseph Badger is one of Americas most treasured artists. He painted in the pre-Revolutionary era.

Okay, Dagne said, still looking perplexed. A crowd had begun to gather around, and the announcer held up the portrait.

If this is an authentic Joseph Badger portrait, the man said, it is likely quite valuable.

Valuable ? Dagne asked, clearly shocked. Like how many valuable?

Im not an art dealer, but Id guess upward of a million or more, he said, and pandemonium broke out in the coliseum.

A million ? Rachel echoed, and with a sudden shriek, she fell onto the edge of the couch, one hand over her mouth.

Flynns thoughts were rattling his brain, but the one thought he was able to grasp was that he had to recover that painting. Has she a phone? he asked quickly, motioning vaguely to a beaming Dagne, whose face now filled the screen.

Rachel did not immediately answer; Flynn grabbed her elbow. Has she a phone ?

Yes! she said, and looked at him strangely before leaping to her feet and lunging for her bag. Maniacally, she began to sift through it.

Flynn grabbed up the phone, dialed Joe.

Yo, Joe said lazily on the third ring.

Meet me at the Delaney flat, he said. And dont let her out of your sight. He hung up, whirled around; Rachel was dumping the contents of her enormous bag onto the dining table. He strode into the dining room and grabbed the Venetian bowl, dumping the apples carelessly onto the table.

Hey! she cried.

Flynn put his hand on her shoulder; she looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and anxiety. You must do precisely as I say, Rachel. You must call Dagne and tell her to stay put. Tell her she mustnt leave her flat! And Rachel you mustnt leave this house. Do you quite understand me? Ill be back later, but you cannot leave until Ive spoken with you again. Rachel blinked up at him with big blue eyes clouded with bewilderment.

He did not wait for an answer, but was out the door, determined to retrieve that priceless painting before anything happened to it.

FLYNNS sudden phone call and departure hardly registered with Rachel, because Myrons monstrous deceit had slapped her hard the moment she heard the man say the painting was a Joseph Badger original.

How could she have been so stupid? So goddamn blind ?

The glass bowl, the torcheres, the figurine, the goddamn tea service, for Chrissakes! How long had it been going on? How long had he been using her?

A rage, potent and powerful, was building in her chest. She ransacked her bag, looking for the number to her cell, a number she had forgotten because Myron had kept her phone for so long now. She found it in her PDA and quickly dialed, getting her , Rachel Lear, accomplice-to-a-huge-crime, on the voice mail. Furious, Rachel banged the phone down, then picked it up and dialed his house. Nothing.

Bastard ! She threw the phone across the room. Her mind was a whirl, her heart on fire. She was reliving every conversation shed ever had with Myron, recalling every little thing he had ever given her. Given , her ass! Hed stolen those things from the RIHPS! Fury prevented her from working through how hed done it, or how much hed takenat the moment, she wanted nothing more than to kick him square in the nuts, then drive the point of her new Donald Pilner boots up his ass.

In a rage, she picked up the phone and dialed her cell again. By some miracle, Myron answered. Yo.

Myron! You goddamn bastard, I know what youve done! she cried, aware of a cacophony of sound behind Myron somewhere.

What have I done? he responded angrily.

You stole those things, Myron! she cried, tears suddenly leaking from her eyes. And you used me to hide them!

Oh fuck , he muttered. Look, Rachel. Dont worry about it. They are never going to figure out where the shit ishowd you figure it out?

How? How ? Dagne took a Joseph Badger portrait to the Antique Road Show

Goddammit, that is the painting I was looking for, you idiot!

She choked on her own rage. Youre going to call me names, you lying, thieving prick ?

Shut up! Its not that big of a deal! I used your place to stash some stuff, so what?

So what ? she screeched, incredulous, as tears streamed down her face. You have made me an accessory to your crime! A criminal! Dont you even care?

Your dad has truckloads of moneyhell buy you out of any trouble this causes. But theres not going to be any trouble, Rachel. Look, I dont have time to argue with you. I gotta go.

Im calling the cops, she tearfully informed him.

What ? You do that, and Ill tell them youve been in on it from the beginning, he said, his voice full of venom now. Think where all the shit is! Who are they going to believe? Me? Or your fat ass?

That did it. That so did it. She was seething now, barely able to contain her full-scale, nuclear fury. My God, she breathed into the phone. Youre nothing more than a thieving son of a bitch.

Myron snorted at that. Maybe. But a rich one now. And you made it easyJesus, youre getting a doctorate in history and you cant even tell a real piece of art from a fucking replica? How stupid are you? All I can say is, dont be stupid now. Be a good girl and carry all that shit down to the basement just in case the cops show up. I gotta go, he said, and clicked off.