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like streams of shimmering water through her fingers.

    "Fake, of course," Max pointed out.

    She'd figured that, but they were still beautiful. "What if our guy's a jewelry expert?"

    "Good question," he said, and the way things were going, she was surprised he'd conceded something even as small as that. "They're not cheap fakes. They're as good as fake gets, supplied by my client. Unless Carlo has a jeweler's loupe in his pocket, he won't be able to tell. Besides, his thefts are sudden and quick—he doesn't have time to analyze the goods. So we should be fine on that count."

    Kimberly closed the box and handed it back to Max, who returned it to the safe and locked the door. "Practice opening the safe later," he told her, "and familiarize yourself with the jewelry so you'll know how all the clasps work and that sort of thing."

    She nodded, then turned toward the garment bags that lay on the bed. The bed that they would supposedly … share?

    She guessed it was time to bite the bullet, act professional, and ask him just what his plans were for that. "Where … um, will everyone sleep?" She posed the question casually with her back to him.

    "Everyone?"

    "Well, you and me. And Carlo," she added, turning to face him. "And while we're on the subject, just why does he think you've invited him here?"

    "Stocks," Max answered confidently. "Carlo wants to learn about the stock market and I'm just the guy to teach him."

    "You are?"

    "I know enough to fake it. When he expressed an interest, I suggested we get together one evening. I'd been hanging out with him for a few nights by then, so it didn't seem odd to invite him to dinner."

    "And why does he think he's spending the night?"

    "He doesn't necessarily, yet. But according to all the victims I've talked with, he gets chummy fast and then finds a way to prod the invitation."

    Kimberly nodded, then realized she'd never let Max answer her original question. Her chest tightened as she brought it back up. "So, about the sleeping arrangements…"

    "Carlo will sleep in one of the guest rooms," Max said. "You and I, of course, will sleep in here."

    She looked back and forth between him and the bed, half surprised at his answer, and half surprised that she actually thought it sounded like such an awful idea. After all, despite the front she was putting up, in her heart of hearts, she'd almost already admitted to herself that the idea of sleeping next to Max turned her insides to jelly, no matter how much he disliked her. Now, however, faced with doing just that, her muscles tensed and her stomach churned. And if being with Max was something she really wanted, would it make her feel sick like this? So maybe she really was capable of not thinking of him like that. But she could ponder that later. Right now she had to deal with the matter at hand. "Do you think that's … appropriate?"

    "Not particularly," he said. "But husbands and wives generally sleep together. Sleeping apart wouldn't do much to uphold our cover."

    "Well, maybe we could just pretend to sleep together, but then later you could sneak out and use one of the guest rooms." She thought it was a pretty good suggestion.

    Max shook his head. "He might get up in the night and realize we weren't together. It would look too suspicious. What if he were to look into the room while we're sleeping or something?"

    Kimberly grimaced. "You think that's possible?"

    "How would I know? The guy's a creep. Anything's possible. Which reminds me, we need to talk about actually nailing this jerk."

    Well, Kimberly thought with a sigh, it would seem they'd settled that situation—sort of—so on to the next item of business. She lowered herself onto the ornate bed. "I'm listening."

    "The only thing Carlo's seductions have in common is that he moves in for the kill when the husband's not home, and he ends up getting out of the house with jewelry, usually without the woman's knowledge at first. In one case, the woman went to take a