Nemesis in Disguise

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“I’m sorry, but this section of the museum is closed until further notice.”

The female voice drifted over Nathan with the same softness as the jasmine scent wafting down the tiled hall of the Wellington Museum. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes skimming the curvy figure of the brunette standing behind him. Polished, his sister Sheila would say; bordering on stylish from her tailored button-down white blouse and snug, knee-hugging black skirt, all the way to her sharp-toed patent black pumps. Every inch of this woman said collected and professional. Had it not been for the suspicious glint in her curious brown eyes and the fact he needed to get into that display room, Nathan might have let his gaze linger—and enjoy—longer.

“Yeah.” He pushed away from the door frame and turned on the double-dimpled smile that had sent numerous women tumbling into his bed. “The crime scene tape kind of gave it away.”

Her deep red lips didn’t curve. They didn’t even twitch. Instead, she tapped long, manicured fingers against her waist, kicking out a hip as she arched a brow. Her hair fell down her back in soft waves, hints of copper catching the recessed lighting of the museum’s ceiling. Sable, he thought. He’d bet her hair would feel like sable sliding between his fingers.

Nathan resisted the urge to clear his throat, something he tended to do when uncertainty descended. He prided himself on being able to read people; it was after all, part of his job as a security expert and thief. Looking at this woman, however, filled his mind with an odd kind of static that prevented him from pinning her down. Appearances aside, there was something electric yet unreadable about her. One sparked his blood. The other . . . well. Nathan grinned. There was little he enjoyed more than a challenge.