“Did you know your front door was open?”

“The paintings,” Clea said, reaching for them.

Tilda held the package away from her. “There’s a condition.”

Clea frowned at her in disbelief. “You’re in no position to make conditions.”

“Yes I am.” Tilda walked past her and sat on the bed. “You can’t turn me in because if you do, these paintings are worthless and you lose Mason. Oh, and you might want to make sure he doesn’t get a good look at the signatures until after the wedding.”

Clea clenched her jaw. “Did Mason propose to your mother?”

“Yes,” Tilda said. “But it’s not going to happen. She was momentarily confused. You’re still in the game. If you have the paintings and if nobody knows they’re fakes. It’s in both of our interests that these stay out of sight.”

“Okay.” Clea realized she was frowning and smoothed out her forehead. Honest to God, these people and their conditions, it was enough to make a woman turn to Ronald. She held out her hand. “So I’ll take the paintings and never see you again.”

“I like that,” Tilda said, not handing over the paintings. “But there’s one more thing.”

Clea sighed. “What?”

“You have to give Davy his money back.”

“What?”

“The money you had Rabbit embezzle from him,” Tilda said patiently.

“Who?”

“Clea, don’t play dumb. If you want these paintings, you have to give Davy his money back.”

“He has it,” Clea said. “He took it Thursday night, the night of the gallery preview.” Tilda’s mouth dropped open, which was satisfying. “So there you go,” Clea said. “Give me the paintings.”

“I don’t believe you,” Tilda said. “He stayed so he could get the money. If he had the money, why did he stay?”

“You’re sleeping with him, right?”

“Uh,” Tilda said. “Yes.”

Clea nodded. “He puts up with a lot for sex. Give me the paintings.”

“Wait a minute,” Tilda said, but the door rattled again, and this time, Mason called out, “Clea?”

“Under the bed,” Clea said to Tilda, trying to get the paintings away from her.

“What?” Tilda said, holding on. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want him to know I got the paintings from you.” Clea yanked the case out of her hands. “I don’t want him to know there’s any connection to you and that damn gallery at all.”

“Hey,” Tilda said, but Mason called out “Clea?” again. “Okay, but I’m not going under your bed. I’ll go in the closet.”

“No,” Clea said, but Tilda had already opened the door and Mason was calling to her, so she gave up and went to let him in.

THE CAB HONKED out front, and Simon headed for the gallery door, grateful to be leaving a madhouse, but just as he reached the door and freedom, he heard Louise say, “Wait a minute, damn it.”

Only when he turned around, she was Eve.

“I have nothing to say to you,” he said.

“Well, I have something to say to you,” she said, and hearing Louise’s sharp, red-lipsticked voice coming from Eve’s soft pink lips was so disconcerting he stopped. “Listen, bucko,” she said as she came toward him, a spun-sugar angel channeling a dominatrix, “You owe me.”

“I’ll send you a check.” He pushed on the door, but she slid between him and the glass, and she was too short to be Louise, and too fresh-faced to be Louise, and too blonde to be anybody he’d spend carnal time with, but she definitely felt like Louise against him.

“My sister is giving away her paintings to your best friend’s ex-lover so she can get his money back for him,” she said, fixing him with pale blue eyes that made him dizzy. “And you are a thief.”

“I’m not seeing the connection,” Simon said, beginning to reconsider his position on mothers.

She leaned toward him, lovely as Eve, hot as Louise, lethal in combination, and fixed him with those weird eyes. “Steal them for us,” she whispered, and for a moment, Simon felt light-headed. Get on that plane, you fool, he told himself.

“Certainly,” he said to Eve, and pushed the door open for her.

TILDA PUSHED her way to the back of the closet, still coping with the realization that Davy had stayed when he hadn’t had to. Maybe-

A hand pressed over her mouth and made her jerk. “I need you to be very quiet,” Davy said in her ear, and her body melted into relief as she turned to face him.

“I thought you’d left,” she whispered back, trying to keep her voice steady. “I thought you were on your way to Australia.”

“We have to work on your concept of me.” Davy bent and kissed her, all that heat on her mouth, in her mouth, everything she was afraid she’d never have again, and she grabbed onto his shirt and said, “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going to.” He bent to kiss her again, and she gripped his shirt tighter.

“I mean ever, don’t ever leave me.” She tried to swallow some of her desperation. “I’m sorry, I know this is a huge turnoff-”

“Yeah,” Davy said, close to her mouth. “I hate it when women want me.”

“-but I really need you forever, the whole thing, for always-”

“You got me,” Davy said and kissed her again, and she breathed him in and felt lust and relief and gratitude, all at once, and wrapped herself around him.

“Maybe I’ll just take short trips,” Davy whispered, coming up for air, “so we can do this again.”

“We can do it without the trips.” Tilda went up on her toes to reach his face. “Anytime.”

“How about half an hour from now, your place?” Davy slid his hand down her back.

“How about now?” Tilda shuddered because he felt so good. “How about here? Oh, God, I can’t believe you’re here, I want you now.”

“Right, you and closets,” Davy whispered.

“We should build a closet in the attic,” Tilda said and bit his ear.

“Ouch,” Davy said, and tightened his arms around her.

“You are moving in, right?” Tilda whispered, pulling away a little. “We are living in the attic? You’re okay staying with my family?”

“Yes,” Davy said, but he seemed distracted. “I’m okay with the attic, the family, and you. Can you hear what they’re talking about out there?”

Tilda moved back to him. “The hell with them. Take me now.”

He leaned toward the closet door. “Believe me, I want to, but I think that’s Mason out there with Clea, so if you could-”

“Do we care?” Tilda whispered, pressing closer.

“I don’t, but there may be some stuff going on out there I’m not getting.”

“I’ll give you some stuff.” She kissed his neck.

“Yes, you will. But-”

“Do me now, against this wall,” Tilda whispered, only half-kidding.

“Do you mind?” somebody whispered, and Tilda jerked in surprise just as Davy tightened his grip on her.

“Rabbit?” Davy said, turning around in the dark.

“Your financial manager’s in this closet?” Tilda whispered.

“It’s bad enough I have to listen to what’s going on out there,” Rabbit said, his voice bleak with betrayal. “I don’t need to listen to people talking dirty in here.”

“You think that was dirty?” Davy said. “Rabbit, you have no idea-”

“I heard everything you said to her,” Rabbit said.

“I didn’t say anything dir-”

“That woman is a gold digger,” Rabbit said.

“Considering where her hand is, I don’t think my money is what she’s after.”

“He’s talking about Clea,” Tilda said to Davy.

“That’s all she ever wanted was the money,” Rabbit went on, pain in his voice.

“Oh, Clea,” Davy said. “Hell, yes, she’s a gold digger. You’re just noticing that now?”

“I loved her,” Rabbit said.

“Well, then it doesn’t matter,” Davy said. “Now could you leave? Because-”

“She just wanted the money,” Rabbit said sadly.

“Rabbit, you only want sex,” Davy said. “And God knows, Clea can deliver.”