Chapter 20

Priscilla purposely kept the next quarter of an hour's worth of conversation away from art or the fact that she was a suspect in the museum theft. Instead, she asked questions about Emily's family, upbringing, and what she had done once she had left Elm Village, Indiana.

She already knew much of what Emily told her, but while Emily repeated much of the information, it had given Priscilla time to think…

After her unusual introduction to this woman last night, she had been expecting the search warrants today, which was why she had stayed home from the Kroyn Tower, and why she'd had Edna with her. When the police had finally arrived, Edna had examined the warrant carefully, and then made some phone calls to find out what the police were up to.

It turned out that their strategy was quite clever. The police were issuing warrants on the homes of many of the women who had been in the museum at the time of robbery.

That had told Priscilla two things…

The first was that either one or all of Cyrus's gang had told the police that a woman had directed them to steal the paintings from Gallery 16.

Two, that the police still did not have any evidence tying her to the theft of The Young Shepherdess, and that they were going to try any novel legal maneuver to get into her homes to try to find that evidence.

Because the warrant was valid, she and Edna had to allow the police to conduct their search. Priscilla hadn't been worried. The niche where The Young Shepherdess currently lived was too well hidden. That bookshelf was massive—a floor to ceiling job—and the large hinges it swung open on couldn't be seen. By all appearances it looked like an immovable piece of furniture. What's more, the men who had constructed it for her—three years ago—lived in Nigeria. Little wonder then that the police, after spending about fifteen minutes in her bedroom, had emerged empty-handed.

Priscilla now had to determine just how dangerous Emily Bacon was. Her instincts told her that although the police hadn't walked out of her mansion or penthouse carrying The Young Shepherdess, Emily wouldn't give up. In fact, Priscilla was certain, if needed, Emily would be willing to…circumvent the police and search for the painting using less than approved methods.

That had been her modus operandi in the past.

Priscilla now knew all about Emily's team of surveillance experts, safecrackers, and break-in artists, all of whom had been used in other cases to locate stolen works of art.

And that was what made Emily dangerous, Priscilla decided. Emily didn't care about legalities. All she cared about was finding the art, and collecting a big, fat check for doing so. If her methods resulted in getting what she wanted, but also allowing the perpetrators to walk free on some legal technicality, she wouldn't lose any sleep.

Knowing this, Priscilla decided she needed to speak with Leland, her chief of personal security, to tell him to implement more stringent procedures for the mansion. She didn't want any of Emily's team of minions slipping in.

In the meantime…

Their server arrived with their entrées, which they had ordered earlier.

"Pancetta-wrapped veal," Ingrid said, placing a plate before Priscilla. "And…the truffle-dusted Kobe filet," she added, placing Emily's meal on the table.

Both women thanked her, and she left them to their dinners.

"So…" Priscilla began, cutting into her veal, "since you've been busy checking up on me, and since I am now being watched by San Diego's finest, what is the most fascinating thing you have learned?"

Emily was chewing a bite of her steak. When she finished, she leaned forward.

"The problem is," she said, "that the most fascinating thing I could learn about you is the one thing which we have yet to discover."

Priscilla quirked an eyebrow.

"And that is?" she prodded.

"Why?" Emily replied. "Why did you do it? Life too dull? A need for excitement? Or was it purely for fun?"

Priscilla was getting bored with Emily's far-too-obvious attempts to get her to incriminate herself accidentally.

"Aren't you here with me purely for fun?" she asked.

Emily seemed uncertain as to how and why the question had been turned back on her.

"What do you mean?" she responded, her brow crinkling.

Priscilla took a sip of her martini.

"You could have passed on this assignment," she said. "Handed it off to another investigator…one who needed a hundred-thousand dollars far more than you do. So, you're not here for the money." She also leaned forward, pleased that when she did so, Emily's eyes very briefly stole a look at her lips. "Chasing is what's fun for you," she continued. "In fact…I'd say you're here with me because you were the one who was bored."

Emily smirked.

"And I suppose you're the excitement I crave…even more than retrieving the painting?" she queried.

Priscilla let a small grin turn up the corners of her mouth.

"I very seriously doubt you've chased anyone quite like me," she said. "Are you interested in finding out just how exciting it can be if I let you momentarily catch me?" she asked.

Emily chuckled.

"Sleeping with me is not going to make me go away," she said.

"You wouldn't want to go away after sleeping with me," Priscilla shot back.

She and Emily stared at each other for several moments, not speaking. There was an obvious sexual charge between them, but under the circumstances Priscilla wasn't sure if she could trust it.

She leaned back.

"Don't worry," she said, "I never sleep with anyone after only one date."

That was a blatant lie, and Priscilla could barely keep herself from laughing. She didn't even need a date in order to sleep with someone she wanted.

Which begged the question…

Did she want Emily?

The insurance investigator was quite sexy, and she looked stunning tonight. What's more, the amount of confidence and self-assuredness she projected was a turn-on.

But the dress Emily was wearing…

Priscilla loved the cleavage it showed, and the way Emily's breasts were pushed together by whatever bra she had on, so that they almost spilled from the neckline. Priscilla had taken note of a tiny mole on Emily's left breast, near where that one's flesh met that of its partner. She had determined that, given the opportunity, that was where she would bite Emily, enough to leave a mark and make it so that the woman wouldn't be able to reveal that much cleavage again for a few days at least. But Emily would see the bite mark each time she undressed, and remember what it had felt like to have Priscilla's teeth grasping that soft skin.

And then there was the particular and unusual aspect The Young Shepherdess would bring to fucking Emily…

Priscilla had to admit to herself that the danger of fucking the woman who was responsible for getting back the painting, and perhaps putting her in jail was…arousing. Especially when she imagined the visual of herself ruthlessly pounding her vibrating strap-on dildo into Emily from behind, while Emily was standing, bent over, grasping the bookshelf in her bedroom, behind which The Young Shepherdess was hidden.

Yes…she wanted Emily Bacon.

But not tonight.

There were plans she needed to finalize once she got home.

However, under the table, she crossed her legs…

***

"Can I offer you dessert?" Priscilla asked once Ingrid had come to clear their plates after they had finished their entrées.

"Can I offer you a deal?" Emily answered.

Priscilla kept her face neutral and waited.

"Eventually, I will find the painting," Emily continued. "But the longer it takes, the less generous the authorities—and my bosses in Switzerland—will be. Now…you've had your fun. Make it easy on us, and we'll make it easy on you. Besides, with the types of lawyers you have, your life is unlikely to be inconvenienced by even a day in prison."

Priscilla looked to the side, nodding slowly, giving the impression that she was considering the proposal. However, after a few moments, she returned her gaze to Emily.

"I need to ask you a very important question," she stated.

Emily inclined her head ever so slightly.

"Go ahead," she said.

Priscilla leaned closer.

"Do you like pizza?" she asked.

Emily's face displayed her confusion. Now, she shook her head briskly, as though a gnat had just buzzed her ear.

"Do I…?" she began. "That's your very important question? Do I like pizza?"

"Well, do you?" Priscilla prodded.

Emily's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, I guess," she said.

"Hold on…" Priscilla replied. "How do you feel about pineapple on pizza?"

"That it's an abomination and whoever thought of it should be shot," Emily said.

Priscilla smiled.

"Excellent!" she exclaimed. "I would not be able to enjoy pizza with someone who felt it lacked pineapple."

"Is pizza in our immediate future?" Emily asked. She indicated her place at the table where, not too long ago, her dinner plate had been. "Because I just ate."

"I think pizza is in our near future," she said. "I know a fantastic place. I'd like to take you there."

Emily smirked.

"Now, why would I agree to a second date with you when you haven't answered my very important question?" she queried. "You know…the one about a deal?"

Priscilla furrowed her brow.

"In one ear and out the other," she said. "I've already forgotten what you're talking about." She leaned back. "Anyway…dessert? The pannacotta here is to die for."

Apparently, Emily recognized the futility of insisting on an answer about the deal—at least for now.

"Sure," she said. "Pannacotta sounds terrific."

***

Done at Addison, Priscilla had Gordon drive them back to Emily's apartment building downtown. She was impressed. For the past hour, Emily had said nothing about The Young Shepherdess or the investigation. Perhaps she was getting tired of being rebuffed. Perhaps she was busy thinking of her next moves. Whatever the case, Priscilla was realizing that under vastly different circumstances, she and Emily would get along fabulously…maybe even fabulously enough to date. Like, really date.

Not just become occasional and casual sexual partners, but actual girlfriends.

Why not?

Emily was intelligent, cultured, well-traveled, and knew art. She was someone who had left a no-future town like Elm Village, Indiana, and turned herself into a sophisticated woman capable of fitting into the country club set anywhere in the world.

And she was sexy as fuck. What's more, Priscilla—with a talent she had recognized in herself a long time ago—had been able to discern that Emily Bacon's sexiness was not limited to just the window dressing that comprised her fabulous figure, gorgeous face, and stylish clothes.

Emily Bacon, behind closed doors, with a woman she wanted, was an animal, Priscilla knew, and there was probably nothing she wouldn't do in her quest for carnal pleasure.

Just my type…

When Gordon brought the Bentley to a stop in front of Emily's building, Priscilla and her passenger remained where they were, looking at each other.

"I'd invite you up…" Emily began after a moment, trailing off.

"But then they would know," Priscilla said. She turned her head to look out of the back window. She could see the headlights of the unmarked police car about fifty yards behind them.

"Exactly," Emily said, smiling.

"Find out for me if they enjoyed that wine," Priscilla said. "I've never had that particular vintage myself."

Emily laughed.

"I'll be sure to ask," she promised.

"Anyway, enjoy the rest of your night," Priscilla said. "I'll be in touch about our pizza date."

"Mm…I figured you would," Emily said with a chuckle. "I suppose I don't have a say in the matter?"

Priscilla held her eyes.

"You can't catch me if you don't chase," she said.

"Are we still talking about the painting, Ms. Kroyn?" Emily asked, her voice silky.

"You're the only one who's mentioned a painting tonight," Priscilla said. "If there are…other reasons you'd like to catch me, then…"

"We can discuss them over pizza?" Emily finished for her.

"Exactly," Priscilla said.

Without taking her eyes away from Emily's, she pressed a button on the armrest of her door.

"Okay, Gordon," she said. A moment later, Gordon opened Emily's door for her.

"Goodnight, Ms. Kroyn," Emily said.

"Goodnight, Ms. Bacon," Priscilla returned.

Priscilla watched as Gordon escorted Emily to the door of her building and then waited until she was safely inside. That wasn't something Priscilla had ever asked him to do in these circumstances. He was simply a gentleman, and she was glad for that, especially in a world where that was increasingly rare.

Once he had returned to the car and had started driving off, Priscilla reviewed the night.

She had only mentioned the brown Ford that had followed them to the restaurant, and which was following her now as Gordon drove to the mansion.

But there had been another vehicle—a cranberry-colored Toyota sedan that had been keeping tabs on her movements since leaving her home to pick up Emily. However, Priscilla hadn't mentioned that car to her date.

There was no need.

It was Priscilla's guess that Emily was very much aware of the Toyota because it was her people in it. And the poor cops in the Ford weren't even conscious of the fact that Priscilla had two tails because they were so busy keeping their eyes on her.

Priscilla chuckled and then bit her bottom lip.

Let the games begin…