Midnight Jewels

been so busy trying to keep her senses tuned into reality that she hadn't made much of a mental list of the contents of the vault. So much for impressing Croft with her investigative skills. Quickly she ran through the few titles she could recall.
    Then Mercy shook off the unpleasant sensation that still hovered around her consciousness. It was amazing how one's imagination could run wild under certain conditions.
    But it was even more amazing how one could become mesmerized by strange blue eyes and a charismatic voice.
    She hoped Isobel wouldn't keep Croft up in the air for much longer. Mercy decided that if she was going to let herself be mesmerized, she would rather become the willing quarry of Croft's dark sensuality than the unwary victim of a room that was too warm, eyes the wrong shade of blue, and a voice that was too compelling.

    Croft thought he had handled Isobel's pass rather well. Mercy would have been proud of him. Maybe. Actually, it was a little tough to decide just how Mercy would feel about the situation.
    Of course, the process of dealing with Isobel's sensual invitation had been made easier by the fact that the woman hadn't exactly thrown herself at him. Nothing embarrassingly obvious or awkward from Isobel Ascanius. Nothing overly forthright and honest. There was no sign of genuine emotional need. That would have been far too unsophisticated.
    In short, it was nothing like the kind of pass Mercy might have delivered in similar circumstances, assuming Mercy could have worked up the nerve for such a blatant sexual assault in the first place.
    Croft smiled to himself at the thought of Mercy trying to actively seduce a man. She would be very genuine and quite passionate about it, probably even reckless. The man in question would find himself in no doubt about the nature of the invitation.
    He would also know that before Mercy could bring herself to do such a thing she would have to be totally and irrevocably in love. That would make the business of accepting her invitation all the sweeter, Croft thought. Such a pass from Mercy would probably be impossible to refuse. The lure of her complete surrender would be far too tempting.
    But the kind of invitation Isobel had issued was another matter. Very polished, very sophisticated, very smooth. And very easy to ignore without embarrassing either party. On an intellectual level Croft had to admire it. She was one hell of a pilot and it took considerable skill to fly these mountains and try to seduce a man at the same time. On an emotional level he felt nothing. If it had been Mercy sitting next to him right now he would be rock hard already.
    "Erasmus is a fascinating man, very wealthy, very brilliant. But I'm afraid he views me as just another item in his collection." Isobel pitched her voice over the roar of the rotor blades.
    She was giving him one more chance, Croft decided, just in case the first pass had been too subtle. "I gather his main interest is his art and his books."
    Isobel's glance was unreadable because of her mirrored glasses. "I admire him tremendously. But he has certain physical problems. Most unfortunate."
    "Physical problems?"
    "Certain male problems. I'm sure you understand," Isobel said smoothly. "He has suffered such problems for some time. There was an accident, you see. He never quite recovered. It makes life difficult at times for me."
    "I think I get the picture." Croft leaned forward to study the terrain below the copter. He wondered if Gladstone really was impotent as Isobel was implying and whether the "accident" which had caused the problem was related to a fire. "This country is absolutely amazing, isn't it?"
    "Fantastic," Isobel murmured. "The beauty of this machine is that I can set it down almost anywhere. There is a perfect meadow over there." She glanced at him inquiringly, silently asking if he would like her to set down the copter.
    "If we had time, I'd take Mercy there," Croft said, as if he hadn't understood exactly what she was offering. "But it looks like we won't be able to make the trip. We'll be leaving tomorrow."
    "I understand," Isobel said, her voice smoothly masking her twinge of regret.
    Croft rather thought she did. It was always nice to talk to someone who appreciated subtlety. "You're an excellent pilot, Isobel."
    "Thank you."
    "Does Gladstone also fly?"
    "He had me give him some basic lessons a few months ago, but he's not an expert yet. He just wanted to know enough to take the controls in an