Hot Rocks

have it already?”
    “Nope. My mother does. Happens it’s one of her favorites, too.”
    It pleased her to hear it. “I imagine she was fond of Maxfield Parrish’s work or she wouldn’t have named her son after the artist.”
    “She has a few of his prints. This one’s in her sitting room. What’s it called again?”
    “ Lady Violetta About to Make Tarts ,” Laine told him as they both studied the framed print of a pretty woman standing in front of a chest and holding a small silver pitcher.
    “She’s pretty hot. Looks a little like you.”
    “She does not.”
    “She’s got red hair.”
    “That’s not red.” Laine tapped a finger against the model’s reddish-gold hair, then tugged a lock of her own. “ This is red.”
    “Either way, I’m going to think of you every time I look at her. Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome.” She took the picture from him and laid it on the kitchen counter. “All right, now for the explanation as to why I decided I was in love with you and decided to give you a present to commemorate it. This couple in my shop today,” she continued as she set the shopping bag on the table. “Upper class, second- or third-generation money. Not wealthy but rich. They worked as a team, and I admire that. The signals, the rhythm. I like that. I want that.”
    “I’ll give you that.”
    “I think you will.” She lifted the package out of the bag, retrieved scissors and went patiently to work on the wrap.
    “While they were in the shop, buying some nice glassware, a gorgeous display table and a very unique chess table, the wife part of the team spotted this other piece. Completely not her style, let me tell you. But apparently her sister’s. She got all excited, brought it to the counter while I was ringing up. She wanted it, but it wasn’t priced. I hadn’t priced it because I’d never seen it before.”
    She saw the jolt of understanding run over his face. “Christ, Laine, you found the pooch.”
    She set the unwrapped statue on the table. “Sure looks like it.”

CHAPTER 12
    He picked it up to examine it, just as she had. Shook it, just as she had.
    “It looks like an ordinary, somewhat tacky, inexpensive ceramic dog.” Laine gave it a quick tap with her fingers. “And just screams Big Jack O’Hara to me.”
    “You’d know.” He hefted it, as if checking weight while he looked at her. “You didn’t just bust it open and see for yourself.”
    “No.”
    “Big points for you.”
    “Major, but if we stand here discussing it much longer I’m going to crack, scream like a maniac and smash it into lots of doggie pieces.”
    “Then let’s try this.” Even as she opened her mouth to protest, he smacked the statue smartly on the table. Its winsome head rolled off so that the big painted eyes stared up in mute accusation.
    “Well.” All Laine could do was huff out a breath. “I thought we might do that with a little more ceremony.”
    “Quick is more humane.” He dipped his fingers into the jagged opening and tugged. “Padding,” he said and had her wincing as he smashed the body on the table.
    “I have a hammer in the mudroom.”
    “Uh-huh.” He unwrapped the layers of cotton, pulled out the small pouch. “I just bet this is a lot more upscale than anything I ever got out of a cereal box. Here.” He handed her the jewelry pouch. “You do this part.”
    “And major points right back at you.”
    The buzz was there, that hum in the blood she knew came as much from holding something that belonged to someone else as it did from discovery. Once a thief, she thought. You could stop stealing, but you never forgot the thrill.
    She untied the cord, pulled open the gathered top and poured a glittering rain of diamonds into her open palm.
    She made a sound. Not unlike, Max noted, the one she made when he brought her to orgasm. And her eyes, when they lifted to his, were just a bit blurry. “Look how big and shiny,” she murmured. “Don’t they make you just want to run out and dance naked under the moon?” When he lifted an eyebrow, she shrugged. “Okay, just me then. You’d better take them.”
    “I would, but you’ve got them clutched in your fist, and I’d rather not have to break your fingers.”
    “Oh, sorry. Obviously, I still have to work on my recovery. Ha ha. Hand doesn’t want to open.” She pried her fingers into a loose curl and let the diamonds drip out into Max’s open palm. When he continued to stare at her with that lifted brow, she