Propositioned?

He drained his glass, aware once again that the Wolff fortune proved both a blessing and a curse. He had more money than he could ever spend. Unlimited opportunities. Yet, just like his grandfather, he could never afford the one thing that every person on the planet sought. Love. Because he’d never know for certain if a woman truly loved him or just his well-padded wallet.

That didn’t mean he’d given up on women entirely. He definitely enjoyed female companionship, especially in his bed. As long as they understood that sex didn’t equal love or commitment. He always made that perfectly clear before embarking on any new relationship, though most women still believed they could trap a Wolff. So far, he’d proven them all wrong.

Two minutes till midnight.

His wolf costume prickled against the bare skin of his back. He resisted the urge to squirm against the wall, desperate for relief from the agonizing itch that had been aggravated by the heat-inducing dance with Red. He’d stared into her mossy green eyes—eyes as lush and mysterious as a virgin forest. And he’d been the one in danger of getting lost there.

He longed for another slow dance with Red. A private slow dance.

Michael let his gaze wander around the ballroom, but he didn’t see her scarlet cape anywhere. What kind of body did that cape hide? What color hair under that hood? What secrets behind her smile?

One minute till midnight.

Michael pushed himself off the wall and headed toward the bandstand, slipping unobtrusively through the raucous crowd of guests. He wanted to see her face during the unveiling. To formally meet the woman who had turned down the invitation to his lair. He’d been half joking at the time, but her refusal had enthralled him. Maybe she truly didn’t recognize him. Or she simply wasn’t impressed by his wealth. Maybe money didn’t matter to her.

Michael wished he could still believe in fairy tales.

At last the clock struck midnight. He turned in a slow circle, his heart beating double time. Colorful balloons and confetti floated down from the ceiling to celebrate the dawn of the New Year. Couples embraced around him. Champagne corks popped. He removed his mask, but he couldn’t see his Red anywhere.

Maybe she’d gotten lost in his woods after all.

MIDNIGHT.

The first deep gong reverberated through the mansion. Sarah froze, her hand on the doorknob of the room containing the safe. Michael would be in front of the bandstand now, watching for her. Waiting. But how long would he wait?

The second gong sounded a heartbeat later and Sarah knew she didn’t have time to waste. She bent down to jimmy the lock, a trick taught to her by her grandfather. On the third gong, she slipped inside the room, quietly closing the door behind her. She locked it, then turned around, her pulse racing.

Her leather boots sunk into the deep, plush carpet as the fourth gong rang out. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood, but the room itself was pitch-black, without even a hint of moonlight.

The thick darkness unnerved her as the sound of the fifth gong echoed through the mansion. She fumbled inside the picnic basket for the miniature flashlight she’d purchased just this afternoon. At last she found it and switched it on.

The sixth gong drowned out her groan when nothing happened. She rapidly flipped the flashlight switch back and forth, hoping for a miracle. But no such luck. Either the new flashlight or the new batteries she’d purchased for it were defective. She wanted to kick herself for not testing it before now.

At the seventh gong, she skimmed one hand blindly along the wall for a light switch, then turned it on for the length of the eighth, ninth and tenth gongs, just long enough for her gaze to sweep along the wall, taking note of the small marble table and the chaise lounge shaped like a chariot underneath the window. In the middle of the room stood a gold tent. Odd. But Sarah didn’t have time to satisfy her curiosity by taking a closer look.

At the eleventh gong, she flipped off the wall switch, fearing someone passing by might see the light filtering under the door and become suspicious. She was probably more paranoid than necessary, but Sarah simply couldn’t stand the thought of discovery.

The twelfth gong rang out as she considered the consequences of what she was about to do. If caught, she’d not only lose her job, but the publicity would be humiliating. She’d lose the respect of her friends. Her co-workers. Michael.

Especially Michael.

It was silly, perhaps, since they’d never even been formally introduced. All they’d shared tonight was a dance and a kiss. A wonderful kiss.

Still, she didn’t want to imagine the expression on his face if he discovered his Little Red Riding Hood had broken into the family safe. Her best bet was to get moving so she’d be gone before the party broke up.

Gripping the picnic basket more tightly, she began to slowly walk along the wall, running the fingers of her free hand along the crevices. According to her grandfather, the safe was located somewhere between the window and the door, with a telltale fissure in the seam of the panel walls to indicate the hidden steel compartment underneath—a fissure that a person could only discern by touch.

Her grandfather had shared every detail of his diamond necklace heist, with a little prodding from Sarah. She’d felt a little guilty about it, especially since he was so darn proud of his success. So thrilled to give her what he truly believed to be her rightful legacy.

But Sarah couldn’t keep the necklace. Her conscience wouldn’t allow it and her grandfather’s growing bitterness over the years simply blinded him to that fact. He was so certain that the necklace could change her future. That it could have changed the past. That it could have saved her grandmother.

Sarah knew she could never convince him otherwise. So she had given up trying. And if her grandfather ever asked her about the diamond necklace, she’d simply tell him she’d put it in safekeeping. That would be the truth. The Wolff safe was the only place secure enough to keep Bertram Hewitt out of prison.

Her wandering thoughts made her forget about the small marble table in her path. She bumped her knee against it, causing the lamp on top of it to teeter precariously. She caught it just in time to prevent it from crashing to the floor.

She could just picture shattered glass on the carpet, a sure indication that someone had been in here. Sarah would prefer the Wolffs never suspected an intruder had entered this room. She didn’t want anything possibly leading the police to either her or her grandfather. Bertram had assured her that he hadn’t left any fingerprints behind a week ago, but with the sophistication of DNA testing, she couldn’t be certain he hadn’t left some identifying physical evidence in this room.

Carefully setting the lamp upright again, Sarah heaved an impatient sigh. The room was too big and she simply didn’t want to take the chance of bumping into something else. Despite the risks, she had to turn on the lamp to get her bearings.

Running her fingers along the lead crystal base, she found the switch and turned it on. Soft light spilled across the room and she saw now what she hadn’t the time to see before. It was a bedroom. The tent was actually a round canopy bed with heavy gold drapes concealing everything but the ornate sandalwood headboard.

The room resembled a desert oasis, with the thick carpet the color of sand and a trickling limestone fountain in one corner. Potted palm trees lined the far wall and the ceiling was painted a serene sky blue. The walls themselves were made of bleached pine paneling, with hieroglyphics painted on various portions. It truly was the oddest bedroom she’d ever seen.

Turning back to the wall once more, she moved her hand swiftly along the paneling until her fingers finally detected a grainy pattern in the crevice of the wood different from the rest.

Sarah pressed hard on the crease and the secret wall panel popped open, revealing the safe underneath. She set the picnic basket on the floor, then took a deep breath, preparing to disconnect the alarm wire. This was the trickiest part of the whole process. If she tripped the alarm…

“Don’t go there,” Sarah chastised herself. Just as in any other profession, to be successful, a safecracker had to think positively.

A moment later, she breathed a sigh of relief. The alarm wire was disconnected. All she had to do now was open the safe, place the diamond necklace back inside, then leave by the back entrance of the mansion. No doubt the party would still be in full swing, so no one would be the wiser.

Was Michael still waiting for her? Or had he already moved onto someone else?

Sarah turned the dial, grateful her grandfather had revealed the combination when he’d bragged about his heist. He’d taught her how to crack a safe, a skill he’d learned from some of his more unsavory customers at the pawnshop. But that would take time that she simply didn’t have.

“Fifty-four,” she murmured under her breath, her voice sounding odd to her ears.

She reversed the direction of the dial. “Thirteen.”

So far, so good. But at the sound of heavy footsteps out in the hallway, she hesitated, her entire body tensing. They stopped right outside the door.

She silently closed the secret wall panel, her heart beating so fast she thought she might pass out. But the sound of someone jiggling the brass doorknob shocked her enough to remain conscious. She looked desperately around the room, wondering where she could possibly hide. The sound of keys jingling told her she didn’t have much time to decide.

Someone was coming in.

3

MICHAEL JAMMED the key into the lock, the incessant itching almost driving him to the point of madness. He slammed the door open, then tore off the top half of the costume before he even turned on the light. Buttons popped and hit the wall, but he didn’t care. He flung the furry shirt halfway across his bedroom.

Frustration roiled inside of him. He’d looked everywhere for her—combed every inch of the ballroom, then broadened his search to include the entire first floor. He’d even interrogated the doorman. But it was no use.

She was gone.

It was these stupid costumes. Never again. He didn’t care if it was tradition for the host of the Wolff Ball to dress as a wolf. If Seamus didn’t want the role next New Year’s Eve, they could damn well forego the costumes and dress in tuxedos like normal people. He’d always thought the masquerade part of the ball was ridiculous anyway.

He never should have let her go. Now he had no way of identifying his Little Red Riding Hood. His only option was to go over the guest list tomorrow and try to establish her identity by process of elimination.

But that wouldn’t change the fact that she’d stood him up for their midnight rendezvous. Michael wasn’t used to chasing women. They usually came to him.