Page 15 of Undercover Star
NEVER IN A MONTH OFSundays had Josh expected to be invited to Matisse's home. But he much preferred to have Matisse to himself rather than share him with a crowd, so he'd left to make plans and arrived at Matisse's Chelsea apartment with two huge bags loaded with everything he needed to make dinner.
"This doesn't look like takeaway." Matisse stood in the open doorway as Josh stepped from the lift. A stray beam of light lit his indigo eyes and reminded Josh of the suit Matisse would be wearing the next day. It was a million miles from the tight jeans and sleeveless T-shirt Matisse sported right then, and yet.... Nobody should look so effortlessly sexy. It wasn't fair.
"Josh? What's up? This doesn't look like takeaway."
Matisse's voice recalled him to the present. "No. If you don't mind, I feel like cooking."
"You can cook?"
"I can iron, too."
"Don't mention this where Lynn can hear you. She'll either challenge you to a contest or she'll rope you in to help."
"Extreme ironing?"
"Mock all you want. You've never woken up to the papers bemoaning the state of the shirt you wore the previous night, have you?"
"I really can't say I've had that experience."
"Then don't even go there."
"Alright." He lifted his bags. "Kitchen?"
"This way."
And this was where being a star was handy. Matisse's kitchen was a dream. An exceptionally good one made from dark wood, deep red tile, and stainless steel. "Wow. Nice place."
Matisse rolled his eyes. "It's a kitchen. Cooker, fridge, coffeemaker, storage. The rest is just decor."
"Do you cook?"
"Not a lot. I mean, I can. Sorta. My mum taught me before I left home, to make sure I wouldn't starve. I just don't do a lot of it these days."
"Italian okay? I should have asked before."
"Italian is fine. Red wine to go with?"
"Why not?" He watched Matisse find a bottle and glasses, then started on his own little tour to locate a chopping board and knife, frying pan and saucepan. Moments later he had a pot of water on the stove and was busy chopping bacon forpasta alla carbonara con i funghi.
"Cheers." Matisse set a wine glass beside him on the counter before he settled himself at the breakfast bar to watch. "Why did you think I wouldn't want to know about your case?" he asked when the pasta was boiling and the bacon sizzled in the pan.
"Tim press-ganged you. It's not as if... I mean, you didn't volunteer or anything."
"And you didn't think I'd want to know what I'm getting mixed up in? Josh, this could have all sorts of knock-on effects for me. Of course I'd want to know."
Josh sometimes wondered about his boss. Now was one of those times. He'd found it strange that Montgomery could produce a star of the right pedigree just when Josh needed help to get into Kilbride House. Did Montgomery also know what he could and couldn't ask Matisse to do? Or was there a chance this all could have a negative impact on Matisse's career?
"Does it sound silly when I say I have no idea what's involved in being a singer?"
"Why should it sound silly? I have no idea what's involved in catching a thief. Does he always steal jet ornaments? I mean, jet isn't that fancy. You can get some in Whitby if you're desperate." He scrubbed his hands through his hair and thought. "Did these cameos belong to someone famous? Queen Victoria?"
"Why Victoria?"
"Because the Victorians were dotty about jet? Because she wore cartloads of the stuff after her husband died?" He glared across the breakfast bar. "You didn't think I'd even know who Queen Victoria was, let alone what was fashionable during her reign. Right?"
"Mat? Can we please not do that right now? Yes, I've been a jerk and I've judged you by a job I know nothing about. I'm happy to apologise later. Right now, I want to get my hands on this guy. And, no, he doesn't just steal jet. He's a professional. He steals what his customers want him to steal."
Matisse contemplated the idea. "I could phone him up and tell him I've seen a Turner at someone's house and I want it?"
