Mad About You

still make your flight." She pushed open the door and turned, smiling brightly. "Thank you for dinner." She stuck out her hand.
    He studied her hand for a few seconds. "No good-night kiss?"
    "That's not necessary," she said quickly.
    His smile was slow and nerve-racking. "Speak for yourself," he said, then pulled her to him and lowered his mouth to hers, his tongue urging her to open to him.
    Kat did, allowing him a deep, slow exploration. Her mind spun and her knees weakened as his tongue conquered hers. He held her body against his, and she tentatively fingered the wall of muscle across his back. But when she felt his arousal against her stomach, she stiffened.
    James lifted his head and released her. "I apologize." He cleared his throat. He gave her a proper smile, then nodded curtly. "Thank you for a lovely evening. I sincerely hope our paths cross again sometime."
    Still stunned at the desire flooding her limbs, Kat could only blink and right her glasses in response. When he strode down the hall and disappeared around the corner, she touched her swollen lips and expelled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
    Turning, Kat stumbled into her apartment and closed the door. Under a lone glowing lamp, Denise had left a note to call tomorrow with all the details. Kat sighed and walked into her bedroom, then sank onto the bed in the darkness. The clock glowed ten twenty-five. Hesitant to part with the heady feeling of James's electric kiss, she lay back on her bed, fully clothed, and closed her eyes to troubled dreams of a cigar-smoking, smooth-talking foreigner.
    The peal of her cell phone startled her from a deep sleep. Kat sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling for her glasses on the nightstand. "Who in the world would be calling at two in the morning?" she croaked into the darkness. She squinted at the unfamiliar number, then connected the call. "Hello?"
    "Kat, this is James Donovan." His voice sounded grave. "I skipped the flight, then I couldn't sleep, so I drove by the gallery. You'd better get down here."
    Suddenly she was fully awake. "What's wrong?"
    "From what I can see, three unconscious guards, and if my instincts are correct, one missing letter."

Chapter Three

    JAMES SCANNED THE motley crew assembled before him in the brightly lit hallway of the museum. Guy Trent was extremely agitated, running his fingers through his sparse hair. Six security guards, including the two men and one woman who had been out cold when he arrived, were talking and gesturing among themselves. Two police officers were gazing at the high ceiling as if the perpetrator might still be lurking up there somewhere. And the fat detective who had just arrived was snapping a wad of gum in a most irritating manner.
    He had just shaken hands with the snappy Detective Tenner when a buzz sounded and Kat emerged through a rear door, then jogged down the hall toward the group. A long, grubby white cardigan flapped around her. She was still dressed in her dinner clothes, slightly worse for wear, but she'd taken time to yank her hair back into an eye-stretching ponytail.
    "What happened?" she asked breathlessly as she came to a stop before him.
    James introduced her to the detective and the police men, then started at the beginning. "When I drove by around one-thirty this morning, I noticed a flashing light inside, but I couldn't rouse a response from security. A few minutes later, two relief guards came on duty and we discovered their three comrades unconscious at their posts."
    He motioned toward the group of guards, who quieted at his gesture.
    "Carl, what happened?" Kat asked the groggy looking veteran.
    The guy shrugged. "Don't know—something made us all fall asleep."
    A police officer cut in, holding up a foam cup. "We've taken a sample to be sure, but we think someone may have drugged the coffee."
    Kat's boss shifted uncomfortably, his bald head shiny with sweat. "The Maya display is intact, as well as the Navajo exhibit. The Twila paintings are still in the vault, thank God. If anything besides the King's letter is missing, it's small."
    "It could have been much worse," Kat said, puffing out her cheeks in a relieved exhale.
    "I doubt Lady Mercer will agree," James felt obliged to say, faintly chafed that Kat seemed unconcerned.
    She threw him an impatient frown.
    Guy's uneasiness seemed to be growing. Detective Tenner turned to Kat's boss. "So we're dealing with a premeditated crime—and the thief had a