She grabbed him and tumbled back toward the bed, her hands everywhere. His hand on her neck, he leaned down, pretending he was about to kiss her. Instead, he exerted pressure on a sensitive point and she lost consciousness almost instantly. He figured he had two minutes, five at the most, before she came to again. But he’d studied the house plans and architectural detail enough that he was confident he could achieve his objective before she woke.

Yanking on a spandex black ski mask and wafer-thin night goggles he had tucked in the inside pocket of his black blazer as he went, he climbed out the window onto the roof. He sprinted on catlike feet to the window for the master bedroom. It would have been quicker to use the interior hallway, but any movement within the house would be monitored by cameras. Those on the outside were unlikely to pick up Ethan’s movements-even if they were directed at the roof as opposed to the grounds.

He’d dressed all in black for the evening in clothes that fit his literary author persona and made darn good camouflage in the dark. Black turtleneck, blazer, slacks, and what looked like designer men’s dress shoes, but had soft soles for stealth.

He affixed the listening device in a mere second and ran back to the guest room, slipping in through the window with silent speed. He closed it as the sound of people coming up the stairs reached him. He had just stripped off the ski mask, tucking it and the goggles back into his jacket, and sat down on the bed beside Celine, when she woozily opened her eyes. She reached for him as the lights were turned on and a man’s curse and woman’s soft gasp could be heard from the doorway.

Ethan looked up and Beth was staring at him like he was a cockroach. She was with Celine’s date; the Frenchman looked ready to kill.

Ethan smiled easily, used to this sort of “cover your ass” maneuvers in the field, but something inside him stuttered at the look of disgust in Beth’s eyes before she masked it. “I was just helping Ms. Fournier. She was feeling faint and I carried her in here. I’m glad you’ve arrived to take over, Monsieur Bernard.”

Ethan patted Celine’s hand and stood up, careful not to adjust his clothing, or in any way make it appear they’d been doing exactly what Celine had intended for them to be doing.

She, obviously knowing a good cover-up when it presented itself, put her hand to her forehead and sighed dramatically. “It is true. Henri…you were too busy in your business discussions to notice my distress, but this gentleman cared for me.”

Skin pale from the enforced blackout and her slightly slurred consonants from too much wine gave her performance realism, but her benefactor still looked suspicious. “The light was off when we arrived.”

“It hurt my eyes.” She shut them, allowing a single tear to escape and turned her head away. “Not that I expect you to notice, or care. Tonight was to be entertainment you said, but you have done nothing but talk business in whispers. You have ignored me.”

The woman wasn’t a bad actress; she played the part of neglected date very well.

Bernard looked at Ethan, as if asking for confirmation.

Ethan stifled a sigh of disgust. “Now that you are here, I will leave you to care for your date’s discomfort.”

Bernard nodded and rushed to Celine’s side. Taking her into his arms, he whispered words of abject apology in French, all the while looking like a man who had to be wondering if having a young mistress was worth the trouble. Considering the fact that Celine made a good stab at being both a lush and unfaithful, Ethan would have said no.

But men who ignored the sanctity of their marriage vows got what they deserved, in his opinion. Dismissing the other couple from his mind, Ethan crossed the room to Beth. “I thought you’d gone into the garden with Prescott.”

“I was going to, but I didn’t realize you knew…so I came back to tell you where I’d gone.” She bit her lip, looking vulnerable and her gaze slid to the beautiful brunette now clinging to her benefactor’s Armani-clad shoulders.

Ethan took Beth’s arm and led her from the room. “I’ll come with you.”

“If you’re sure Miss Fournier doesn’t need you.” There was a bite in Beth’s tone that made Ethan’s smile genuine.

He liked thinking she could be jealous of him, especially considering she was smart enough to realize anything he did with Celine was for the sake of the case only. It made him feel less of a fool for his own reaction to the attention Prescott gave her.

Ethan tugged Beth out the door and down the stairs. “I’m where I need to be. Come on, Sunshine.”

Beth let Ethan pull her along until they went out the French doors and met up with the group on the back patio. Like the rest of the house, it was slightly pretentious with huge cement lions guarding each of the far corners and the furniture wrought iron cast to look like a formal dining set complete with damask cushions and marble tabletop.

Prescott’s ego reverberated in everything that represented him.

She pulled away from Ethan’s hold just as her pseudoboss looked at them. Satisfaction flashed in his eyes and he beckoned her to him. She went, her mind whirling with the single question that she could not dismiss. Had Ethan been kissing the beautiful and exotic Celine Fournier?

Prescott smiled at her. “I was just explaining the difficulties my horticulturalist has faced in growing roses in the salty climate near the ocean.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a gardener.”

“Ah, but a lovely woman is not required to know how to grow flowers, only enjoy them when they are offered in homage.”

“Are you going to offer my Beth some blooms from your garden?” Ethan asked, his tone deriding. “How very cliché.”

Prescott’s mouth tightened. “Alas, it is fall and the roses are not in bloom, but perhaps next summer she will enjoy that particular garden’s delights. I have found that most women do not find flowers cliché at all.”

“I love roses, especially long-stemmed ones,” one of the women in the party offered.

“Don’t I know it?” Her date’s accent was Canadian. “It costs me a fortune to keep you supplied the way you like.”

She wound her arm through his and smiled up at him. “I’m worth it though, aren’t I?”

Beth didn’t hear the man’s reply because he whispered it, but whatever he said made the woman laugh.

One of the others, a dark, stocky man with an accent that could have been Russian or Ukrainian, she wasn’t sure which, asked, “If the roses are not in bloom, what have you brought us out here to see?”

Once again, Prescott’s mouth flattened into a thin line of annoyance, but he quickly smiled, and Beth thought he would have made a particularly adept politician. “The maze is always of interest to my first-time guests. Perhaps you will feel the same.”

The stocky man shrugged. “Let us see.”

Just then, Prescott’s date for the evening came out of the house with the remaining guests, including Mr. Bernard and his girlfriend. “I’ve convinced the rest of the party to join us in the maze, Arthur. Isn’t that lovely?”

“Yes. Quite lovely, my dear.” Prescott led the entire group across the perfectly manicured lawn to a box hedge maze that easily stood eight feet high. “It is amusing to enter by twos at timed intervals. Everyone will be given twenty minutes to find the center, at which point the pathway that leads to the center will glow amber while the rest of the lighting within the maze will remain white. We shall all meet at the center and I will lead you out afterward.”

A couple of the guests made faces at the proposal, but no one disagreed with the plan.

Ethan once again maneuvered himself beside Beth and took her hand. “This should be fun, honey.”

“I thought we could trade partners for the exercise,” Prescott said.

“Since you know the way to the center and your date probably does, what would be the point in that?”