held her arms out and turned around. “Satisfied?”
Far from it. “It’s a start. Hungry?” He picked up the tray of food he’d prepared and walked past her into the living room.
She followed him, filched a piece of cheese and started pacing. He couldn’t help but admire the way she moved. Even with his shirt hanging down to her knees, he was acutely aware of the way her slender body moved with unconscious grace.
She stopped and sent him a sly sideways smile. She knew exactly the kind of effect she was having on him and loved it. Damn it. If he could get his libido under control, he might actually be able to learn something important. He owed Gage for pulling him out of Paris, and he wouldn’t mind helping him.
Up to now, he and Gage hadn’t exactly bonded, and now with Sophie pregnant feeling well, it wouldn’t hurt to try mending that particular fence. If anything, it would make Sophie happy. And although he didn’t particularly like his brother-in-law, he did respect him.
And, okay, he felt sorry for Bridget. It was possible she wasn’t guilty of anything but being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe.
“Why were you at the show?” He popped a grape into his mouth as he watched her halt her prowling and look at him over her shoulder. She had gorgeous hair. A shocking red with curls halfway down her back. He’d love to sink his fingers into it.
“I wanted Dejarnatt to remember that I know he stole Darcy’s designs. I’m not the only one who knows, either.”
“What makes you say that?” Rafe picked up another grape and rolled it between his finger and thumb.
If Gage could find another person to corroborate Darcy and Bridget’s story, maybe Darcy would have a chance to beat down his sentence. It seemed to Rafe that everyone was a little too quick to believe the O’Neills were guilty. When he’d tried to talk to Gage about what he thought, Gage had laughed at him, then got that pissed-off look on his face and told him he was better off thinking about his wardrobe.
Rafe didn’t know his brother-in-law well enough to decide if he really was that big of a jerk or if Rafe had hit a sore spot with the agent. He suspected the second.
“Most everyone in the trade would recognize Darcy’s older designs. But…”
“What?”
She shrugged an elegant shoulder. “He worked for Dejarnatt for almost two years. You don’t get to put your name on any of the designs you make for a big house like Dejarnatt.”
“What are you saying? No one knows what Darcy designed and what he didn’t? It all goes into the same pot?”
“They know. Darcy was…is brilliant. But there’s no proof. No paper trail. You have to give everything to the house, all your preliminary sketches, everything.”
“So it comes down to his word against Dejarnatt?”
She nodded.
“Why work for him to start with?”
She raised her hands, palms up. “Paris. Money. Lots of money. We were going to leave after our three-year contracts were done and start our own business. That wouldn’t have been possible years ago, but with the Internet, you can make a good living selling your own line of jewelry. Not millions like Dejarnatt, but enough for both of us to be happy.”
“No doubt, Dejarnatt realized what you planned to do.”
“We didn’t keep it a secret.”
She made her side of the story sound so believable—except he had firsthand knowledge of how cunning she could be.
“So, what’s the deal? He set your brother up for theft to…what? Stop both of you from starting a business? There are lots of jewelry designers. What’s one more to Dejarnatt?”
“We wouldn’t have just been designers with their own line of jewelry. Dejarnatt used Darcy’s designs almost exclusively for his collection. We would have been in direct competition with him.”
Rafe frowned. “With Darcy in jail here, why did you stay in Paris?”
He stared at her generous mouth as she smiled. Her lipstick was as red and alluring as the