Eine reizende Diebin (German Edition)

figured that she would use sex to get what she wanted. And he’d made it easy for her too. Volunteering even. If he was that stupid, he didn’t deserve any better.
    He’d wanted to teach her a lesson, and instead, she’d taught him an even bigger one: never trust the woman in your bed!
    Marcus swung his legs out of bed and reached for the phone to report the theft to the police, then stopped in mid-motion. He could feel every single cell in his aching body. Aching, yes, but in a good way. The night and everything they’d done flashed in front of his eyes. What a woman! Sensual, adventurous, tender, hot, insatiable, and just plain amazing all in one.
    He picked up the phone and dialed.
    Just over an hour later, Thomas was at his front door.
    “What are the police doing about it?” Thomas asked instead of a more conventional greeting.
    Marcus waved him into the kitchen and sat back down to finish his breakfast.
    “Tea?”
    “Sure. So, what did they say? Is she a known entity?” Thomas took his cup and added milk before he took a sip.
    “I haven’t called the police.”
    Thomas involuntarily spewed tea from his mouth. “You what ? Are you crazy? She could be anywhere by now!”
    Undeterred by his friend’s outburst, Marcus used his napkin to wipe up. “I’m not going to involve the police. I gave my word.”
    “Have you gone bonkers? You gave your word to a thief?”
    Thomas looked at him as if he’d gone off the deep end. Marcus hadn’t, at least not yet. He had an axe to grind with her, but he wanted to be the one doing the grinding, not the police.
    “You know what she looks like, so you’ll be helping me find her.”
    “And how do you propose we do that? We have nothing to go by.”
    Marcus shook his head. “Au contraire. She has an art history degree. We’ll start with the colleges in London. With your connections to practically every academic in this town, it shouldn’t be too hard to find out who she is. She’s young, probably under thirty, so we won’t have to go further back than seven or eight years. She said her name is Olivia.”
    Thomas exhaled pointedly. “Quid lucrum istic mihi est?”
    “Does there always have to be something in it for you?” Marcus answered.
    “You know what I’m after.”
    Marcus knew all too well. Thomas coveted a particular artifact connected to the ruins of Machu Picchu, which Marcus owned. Thomas had been trying to convince him for months to sell it to him.
    “Deal.”
    “Let’s get to work then,” Thomas replied.
    Thomas called in favors to get them access to alumni records, and they went to work. They split the possible campuses in London between them and jumped into their respective cars.
    What Marcus didn’t tell his friend was that while he certainly cared to have his precious artifact returned to him, there was something else he wanted back. The thought that she’d just ditched him after the amazing night they’d spent together didn’t sit well with him. Neither did the desire to have her back in his bed, naked, underneath him.
    After a night of sex with her, he should be sated. Instead, he craved more. Unfortunately, no other woman would do. It had to be Olivia.
    ***
    Olivia tried for hours to get the darn armband off her arm. To no avail. She could not open the clasp. And because it fit too tightly around her upper arm, had in fact tightened even more over night, she couldn’t slide it down her arm either.
    Frustrated and perspiring, she dropped back onto the couch.
    Getting the armband off wasn’t even her biggest problem. Or maybe it was. The armband was to blame. What else? Why else would her mind go back to the night with Marcus? It was the most plausible reason.
    When she’d woken in his arms, she’d been tempted to stay, but for once, her brain had won over her tired body. But ever since returning to her flat, she felt a strange emptiness. It was unusual for her. After each heist, she normally was on an adrenaline high, which took days to come down from. Not this time.
    Something was wrong, seriously wrong.
    Like any self-respecting criminal, she was superstitious. The fact that she couldn’t get the armband off, coupled with the legend which surrounded it, made her feel uneasy. She had a strange feeling of not being complete, as if something was missing, when she knew everything was normal.
    She’d gotten away with the artifact that she’d come to steal. And despite the fact that she’d been caught, so far the police