Eine reizende Diebin (German Edition)

moment his eyes had met hers, she’d felt an unknown sensation in her, but had attributed it to anticipation. His dark hair was a little shaggy, with waves suggesting it naturally curled under the hot steam of a shower. Eyes the color of moss implied hidden depth. Even in his elegant suit, he couldn’t hide his athletic figure, his broad shoulders, and his muscular chest.
    Yet, despite his elegant clothing, there was something rough about him. He was a self-made man, not like his blue-blooded friend. Without a doubt, Marcus was attractive. More than that. He oozed sex appeal. She hadn’t seen a man in quite a while who looked this potent. Almost as if he was forbidden fruit.
    Not that Olivia was going to sample any of it. She never did when it came to business. It was too risky. The only thing she had allowed herself was to touch his lips. The sensation had almost overwhelmed her, especially when he’d sucked her finger into his mouth. His tongue had played with her in a most seductive way.
    Coupled with his hand brushing lightly against her breast, it had made her virtually forget her modus operandi: never mix business with pleasure. At that point, she’d almost regretted that he was the one who’d bought the artifact. Had he not, maybe she would have spent a night with him and satisfied the hunger in his eyes. A mirror image of her own for sure.
    But as it happened, he had bought the artifact, the same she’d been hired to steal. And she would do it tonight while he was waiting for her at the restaurant for a date she would never have with him.
    A kiss she would never give him.
    His London residence was a two story home on a quiet Mayfair street. By the time she reached it, darkness had already descended upon the city, and foot traffic was at a minimum in the residential area in the center of London.
    Olivia had no problem breaking into the property despite the security system. She’d learned from the best: good old Dad. Picking a lock was a task she’d mastered at the age of twelve, and disabling a security system had followed five years later.
    One of her specialties became opening safes. She was old school. Anybody could open a safe with explosives, but to tease the lock open the same way one teased a lover? Now, that was finesse.
    By the tender age of eighteen, she was a pro. Now, at twenty-nine, she was close to retirement.
    Olivia had even squeezed in four years at the University to obtain a degree in art history—something she found came in handy when negotiating her fee with the various art enthusiasts who engaged her services.
    Her decision to become an art thief had not been a conscious one. She’d simply followed in her father’s footsteps and joined the family business. Just as her school friends joined their family’s accounting firms or clothing stores.
    She was good, she was efficient, and she was a professional. Her real life and all the fun would start once she retired from her profession. In the meantime, her spotty sex life didn’t bother her too much. What were vibrators for? At least they didn’t ask her what she was up to when she left the house at night all dressed in black with a small backpack of tools slung over her back.
    Olivia’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness in the house. She knew she was alone. A glance at the clock told her that Marcus would be arriving at the restaurant right now. He would wait for her. All men did. At least for thirty minutes, but most likely longer. By the time he was back at the house, she would be gone, and with her the vestal armband.
     

3
    (Home) (to Chapter 3 in German)
     
    Marcus cursed the driver of the black cab as it almost ran him over when it swung around the corner of the narrow street. He lost his footing on the slippery street and fell against a heap of old household items somebody had left on the sidewalk for the rubbish collector.
    Perfect, now his immaculate outfit was dirty. As he lifted himself from his undignified position on the sidewalk, he heard a rip that sounded suspiciously like a piece of cloth tearing. He twisted his head.
    “Bloody hell!”
    That was just what he needed. With ten minutes to spare to meet his hot date, his trousers had ripped along his thigh. A wire sticking out from a discarded mattress was the culprit.
    Now what?
    Looking the way he did, there was no way he could show up at Claridge’s, particularly since the lovely Olivia was there waiting for him. It would be too embarrassing. If he