Sweet Revenge

rate I’m sure we’ll meet there eventually. Personally, I’d like to put that moment off.” Giving in, he grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “Are you out of your mind coming here alone, dealing with? man like that?”
    “I know precisely what I’m doing and how to do it. You can attempt to arrest me here and now, but I’ll make you look like a fool.”
    He considered her a moment. Even with the makeup he could see the woman he knew beneath. “I believe you could. We’ll take my car.”
    “I’ll drive myself.”
    “Don’t push it.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “First we’re going back to the hotel so that you can get rid of that ridiculous wig. It makes you look like a tramp.”
    “Thanks so much.”
    “Then we’re going to put those pretty rocks back where they came from.”
    They were halfway across the square when she stopped, jerked out of his hold, and stared. “Now
you re
out of your mind.”
    “We’ll discuss it. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to be several kilometers away before your friend recovers.”
    As he gave her a shove toward his car, the clock in the square struck midnight.

Chapter Seventeen
    The drive back to the El Presidente hadn’t calmed her. If possible, Adrianne was only more furious when she slammed into her room. Losing her temper was a rare treat for a woman who was used to strapping down any sign of her true feelings. But there were times, and there were people, who rated exceptions.
    “Goddamn you, Philip. You’ve given me nothing but trouble since the first time I saw you. Poking around, interfering, following me.” She jerked off the wig and hurled it in the vicinity of the sofa. It fell, gaudy as a stripper’s G-string, to the carpet.
    “And this is the thanks I get.”
    “If you were trying in your own limited way to play hero, I can tell you I detest heros.”
    “I’ll bear that in mind.” He closed the door gently at his back. He’d always thought there was little more fascinating to watch than a woman in a temper.
    After unclipping cheap gold loops from her ears, she hurled them against the wall. “I hate men!”
    “All right.”
    Seething, she began to pull off fake fingernails, letting them fall, in dime store grandeur, to the floor. “And you in particular.”
    “I always prefer being singled out by beautiful women.”
    “Can’t you find something more interesting to do than screw up my work?”
    “Not at the moment.” He watched as she shook her hair loose. The beauty mark she’d painted at the corner of her mouth didn’t suit her any more than the lavender eye shadowshe’d troweled on. “Adrianne darling, what have you done to your face?”
    With a sound of frustration, she wheeled away into the bedroom. “Go away, will you?” she demanded as he strolled along behind her. “I’ve had a long day.”
    “So I’ve noticed.” He sniffed at her. The perfume, Rose’s—or now Lara’s—perfume, definitely had to go. He only smiled when she swatted him back like an annoying fly. “Was that a cousin you had drinks with this afternoon?”
    Setting her teeth, she began to rip off face putty. “You’ve been spying on me. I can’t think of anything lower.”
    “Then your imagination needs work. I favor the red bikini, but there’s a lot to be said for the blue one with all those tiny little stars.”
    “You’re disgusting.” Dabbing her fingers in cold cream, she removed traces of putty and spirit gum. “But that’s not surprising. What did you do, sit at your window with binoculars?” When he only grinned, she began to pull out tissues, one by one. “You must love your work.”
    “It’s had its moments lately. You’re very good at that,” he commented when she’d removed the last traces of Lara from her face.
    “So glad you think so.” Expertly, she popped out electric-blue contacts. He was surprised that the fury behind them hadn’t caused them to melt. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to change.”
    “Darling, as long as the St. John jewelry is in question, you’re not, getting out of my sight.” He chose the arm of a chair and made himself comfortable. “I’d suggest something in black. Replacing jewels requires the same precautions as taking them.”
    “I’m not putting them back.”
    “No, you’re not,” he agreed. “I’m putting them back, and you’re coming with me.”
    She plopped down on a chair. She was very close to sulking, a luxury she rarely indulged in. “Why