Midnight Jewels

find out…" Croft let the sentence trail off as he paced to the window and stood looking out. He sipped his tea. "That book is still the key to this mess." He looked at Mercy over his shoulder. "And we've got it because you had the guts to go back into the vault and get it last night. Thanks, Mercy."
    "Don't thank me," she told him waspishly. "I didn't have any choice. You refused to leave the pool room without it, remember?"
    His smile was rueful. "Vaguely."
    Mercy's brows came together. "How are you feeling? Any sign of a hangover?"
    "No. Whatever it was seems to be gone from my system."
    "It's amazing you could function at all last night, let alone handle Dallas and Lance. You were on the point of collapse."
    "You were the one who got me out of the pool and got us out of the house."
    Mercy set her back teeth. "So you owe me, right?"
    He nodded seriously. "Right."
    "Oh, goody. I can't wait to collect."
    He surprised her with a fleeting expression of mischief. "I thought you already did. Bright and early this morning."
    Mercy lost control over the blush that had been threatening her since he had walked into the room. She tried to brazen her way through the embarrassing little scene with a deliberately lofty smile. "I'll admit you make a very interesting sex slave."
    "Thank you. My only goal is to please. Tell me the tram. Do you still respect me?"
    She wasn't sure what to make of his provoking banter, but her pride wouldn't let her back down. She felt obliged to hold her own. "There are certain aspects of you that definitely command respect." She let her eyes drop to a point below his waist.
    "So help me, Mercy, one of these days—"
    She didn't see him move, but suddenly he was across the room. His hands closed around her shoulders and he hauled her lightly to her feet. When she jerked her startled gaze up to meet his she found herself staring into hazel depths filled with a combination of laughter and exasperation.
    There was no sign of the too-familiar remoteness in Croft's eyes, no evidence of detachment. Mercy was entranced.
    "About this little matter of respect," Croft began warningly.
    Mercy smiled, her eyes brilliant. "I want to assure you, Croft, that you have my sincerest respect."
    The laughter faded from his gaze to be replaced by an unreadable expression. The look he gave her wasn't remote or distant this time, just enigmatic. He leaned down to kiss her slowly and possessively.
    "I guess mat's a start," he said.
    "Croft?"
    He released her and went back to the window. "We have to talk, Mercy."
    "I know."
    He threw her a narrow glance. "About Gladstone. Or Graves, or whoever he is."
    She sighed. "I know. What happens now?"
    "You're going to phone your bookshop and alert the woman who's covering for you that someone will be trying to reach you through that number. She's to take the caller's number and then give it to you when you check in with her. Keep it casual. No need to alarm her. But make sure she knows she's not to give the number here to the person who calls her looking for you."
    "What are you talking about? Who's going to call Dorrie looking for me?"
    "Gladstone will call her," Croft said with absolute certainty. "It's the only contact point he has."
    "But why would he try to reach me?"
    "Us," Croft corrected absently. "He'll be trying to reach us and he'll figure we're waiting to hear from him."
    "But why, damn it?"
    "Because he wants the book back, of course. By now he'll have realized it's gone again. He went through too much, risked too much, took too many chances to get that copy of Burleigh's
Valley
. He'll want it back."
    "He's a collector. Collectors will do a lot to get an item for their collection."
    "Not Gladstone. He wouldn't risk exposing his new identity. None of the other books in that vault are duplicates of the ones he collected when he was known as Egan Graves. He's not trying to rebuild his old collection. In fact, judging from what you saw in the vault, he's deliberately avoided picking up the kind of books he wanted when he was Graves. He's smart enough to know he shouldn't do anything that might make someone suspect his old identity. Trying to duplicate his old collection of rare books would be too big a risk. If someone were watching and waiting for him to reappear—"
    "Okay, I get the point. He's not trying to duplicate his old collection, but he went through a lot of trouble to get
Valley
."
    "
Valley's
an expensive book, but it's not exactly priceless. It's valuable