André Castile makes a fatal mistake that leads to the theft of the Queen of Hearts, a priceless heirloom necklace he values above all else. Driven by revenge, André tracks the Queen of Hearts to the alpine heartland of New Zealand, and to Grace Summerfield. Determined to uncover the past Grace tries so hard to conceal, the search for the Queen of Hearts, and for the truth, propels André and Grace on a deadly journey through the untamed high country. Fear and danger stalks them at every turn. What will they do, how far will they go, which lines will they cross, to find what matters most? What will it ultimately cost them understand what is real, and what is just a shoddy approximation?
He lifted the garment bag off the bed and tried the door to the closet; found it locked. There was no key. It was only a minor thing, but tiredness made him irritable. Stifling a flash of annoyance, he looked at her and notched an eyebrow in inquiry. “Is there a way to open this, or is it a quaint local custom around here to toss clothes on the floor, caveman style?” he asked, his smile tight, “Unless, of course, you prefer I break it open?”She took a hurried step forward and tested the lock. “Sometimes the household staff put it on top of the closet, so it doesn’t go astray.” Suiting her actions to her words, she reached up and felt along the ledge with her fingertips, locating the key. She turned, holding the silver-plated key pinched firmly between finger and thumb, as though it were a rare treasure worth finding. “Here it is.”“Thanks.” André stepped forward at the self-same time Grace moved closer and they collided, breast to chest.She made a stifled sound that could have meant anything and dropped the key. He reached out to steady them, caught her hand and held it. Odd sensations rippled over him when her breath stirred against his cheek warming his skin. She was so close, he sensed her heat, felt each jerky move she made. The details, down to the delicate perfume that surrounded her, even the unassuming gold stud earrings she wore, etched themselves into his mind.Hot blood pooled in his groin. If he wanted, he could angle his head and taste her neck, trace his mouth across the frantic pulse beating beneath her skin. He didn’t know which would be softer, the tantalizing touch of her skin or the feel of her pouty mouth.