Reluctant thief Baz Barret is tasked with stealing from the formidable archaeologist Rei Collingwood--who happens to also be his college crush and rival--but when Rei goes missing after the burglary, Baz must find her before he's blamed for her disa...
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Chapter Ten: The Estate
Baz found Gwen cradling a glass of wine on the steps of a house that looked like it had been transplanted straight out of the Tuscan countryside.
"Took you long enough," Gwen said, tugging her sweater around her. It hardly looked like it was keeping her warm, considering the way it slipped delicately down her shoulder. Even when her hair fell away from her messy bun in wispy tendrils, Gwen looked like she stepped out from the pages of a minimalist lifestyle magazine. Eat healthy, grow plants, look cozy but still chic.
"Not all of us have chauffeurs," Baz replied. He'd actually taken a cab. The gated community of Ironwood was too far from the grid of reasonable public transportation. Who needed convenient bus stops when every five-car garage on the lane had the choice of Porsche or Mercedes Benz within?
It was strange to walk through the neighborhood. Gwen's family home nestled into the same kind of closed communities Baz usually had to sneak into. It was strange to be invited in, like he was a reverse vampire, only permitted to enter if no one saw him come in and no one saw him leave.
He couldn't keep being the roguish outsider if he kept stepping into the upper class like he belonged there. Or rather, he couldn't keep being the roguish outsider if he wanted to be part of that world, like Ariel lusting for legs in the middle of the Atlantic.
Gwen only drew herself up from the steps of the porch when Baz climbed up them. She led the way through the arched front doors, opening into the practically cavernous entryway. Dual staircases mirrored each other up to a second-floor landing. Baz's footsteps echoed off the tiled floor into the wide, empty space.
Gwen gave Baz no time to admire any of the intricate details of the house.
"I've been wondering something," Gwen said, leading Baz from the foyer into the kitchen.
"And what were you wondering?" Baz asked, stepping behind Gwen into the rustic stonework glory of the room. It truly was like stepping into an Italian vacation. He was half-convinced that if he threw the French doors open, he'd step out onto a balcony overlooking a vineyard.
Gwen busied herself with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. How could a kitchen feel like a holiday to someone who must've seen the real thing?
"How many glasses would it take before you'd get into the hot tub with me?" Gwen asked.
Red crept up Baz's neck and splashed into a second wine glass. Gwen looked up at him, feline eyebrow arched.
It struck him that it was the first time he'd ever seen Gwen without heels. She didn't quite meet his eye level without them.
"Are we making wagers?" Baz asked, taking the glass. Did he really want to know the answer? Did it suit him better to hold out on her or to give in?
"No," Gwen said, "it's more like an experiment." Her lipstick left a perfect mark on her glass when she drank.
