Hidden Gems. Carrie Alexander
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assault on the senses. He wanted to try her again, taste her, with a thinking brain this time.
She resisted for a moment, then gave in with a low, inviting moan. Her lips opened to the first flick of his tongue. Her mouth was hot, salty. And so sweet.
This is right.
His palms stroked up and down her arms before locking on her hips, fingers spreading across her tight little ass and pressing her hips snug against his. Their heights were close, and her legs long enough to make up the small difference. Their bodies were in perfect alignment. All the appropriate parts matched up. The soft weight of her breasts pressed to his chest, the long, lean curves of her waist and hips melding to his lower body, where the hard bulge of his erection sought her warm hollow. He wanted to press further into her, he wanted the hot wet clasp, the intimate connection of a complete joining.
So much for the thinking brain. He was operating on pure animal need.
At first, the small noises of a pedestrian approaching barely penetrated his consciousness. Not until he
felt a body stealthily brush by did he realize that something was wrong.
“Hey, you!” Jamie whirled around, wrenching Marissa out of his arms with more force than he intended. She cried out, stumbling toward the curb as she lost her balance. He turned back to grab her by the elbow, seeing that she was set safely on her feet before he went to confront the stranger.
His instincts had been right. The man had targeted the suitcase on the stoop, crouching low as if he was about to snatch it.
Jamie made a desperate lunge to yank the bag free. Doing so was easier than he’d expected. The thief hadn’t gotten much of a hold.
With a yell, Jamie toppled over backward, the bag clasped in his arms. The other man didn’t make another attempt, only raced off without a backward glance.
Jamie was stunned. Like most New Yorkers, he’d been confronted on the streets by a few crazies. But he’d never experienced a mugging, even in snatch-and-run style.
And so he was surprised by his reaction. Adrenaline had pumped through his body, shooting him full of aggression and bravado. He was a pacifist, and yet suddenly he wanted to fight.
Marissa knelt at his side, filled with feminine concern. “Are you all right? You took a hard fall.”
Jamie put a hand to the gritty sidewalk as he found his breath. “Sure. Are you?”
“Yes. It was only—” She glanced over the empty street. “Only a pitiful attempt at a mugging. Not even an armed one.” She made a dismissive sound, but her voice was shaky. “Takes more ’n that to scare a couple of tough New Yorkers, right?”
Jamie set her suitcase on the sidewalk and jumped to his feet. He was charged, ready to chase down the itchy-fingered stranger. But the would-be mugger had vanished like smoke.
Jamie moved restlessly up and down off the curb, sucking air through his nose. “Did you get a look at him?”
“No. I was trying not to land in the gutter.”
“He wore a hood,” Jamie remembered. “He was about five-eight or nine. Skinny. I didn’t really see his face.”
“Should we call the cops?”
After a moment of consideration, they looked at each other and shrugged. Not worth the time and trouble, especially when the theft hadn’t been successful. “Let’s just get home,” Marissa said with a quiet voice. “This has been a helluva day.”
Of course. She had to be burned out. Jamie wrapped his arms around her. “Poor baby.”
She hugged him tight. “Is this a good idea?”
“What?” He jerked away. Was she afraid he wanted to take up where they’d been interrupted? He did, of course, but that wasn’t his first priority. Only the second through tenth.
“Distracting ourselves.” She averted her face. “Inviting another mugging.”
“Yeah, right. We should go.” God only knew that if he started kissing her again, a tornado could whirl up
around them and he wouldn’t notice until they’d landed in Oz.
He left his arm around her the rest of the way home, whether or not she wanted the protection. She didn’t demur, but stayed tucked under his wing, now and then leaning her head on his shoulder and letting out a very quiet sigh.
He remained hyperalert to every sound and motion up and down the street. His body thrummed with excess energy, but he kept that under wraps as best as he could. Strange how the surging endorphins produced by the theft attempt and their astonishing kisses were so much alike. He suspected that something had been kick-started inside him. And he was damned if he’d go back, even if that were possible.
When they arrived at their brownstone, he took charge with the keys and luggage. “I’m going to collapse,” Marissa announced at her apartment door, forestalling him even before he attempted to get inside.
He tried not to let it bother him that she was so certain about ending their experiment that she’d given him not even the smallest opening to delay. “Let me check the place out,” he said, sliding past her without waiting for permission. What the hell. He turned on lights, glancing into the bath and bedroom, even her closet. Every room was in its usual state—topsy-turvy. Housekeeping was not one of Marissa’s talents.
“Find anything?” she called in a tone that said he was being overprotective.
“Hold on.” He swept aside a lace curtain and tested the window that opened onto the fire escape off the bedroom. More of the lace was draped over the bed. The faded rose wallpaper, white iron bed, scattered clothes, shoes and books gave the bedroom the look of an overturned Victorian wastebasket.
“It pays to be cautious,” he said, leaving the doors open behind him. “You’ve been gone for three days.”
“Is that all?” She blinked at her living room as if it were a street person’s cardboard box. Her shoulders were slumped. “I thought it was longer.”
Marissa rarely drooped. Jamie wanted to bust Paul for doing that to her, but he had to keep it cool or she’d know how deep his feelings truly ran. “You’re done in.”
She took one look at his face and moved away, masking the rebuff by lifting her arms and rubbing at the back of her neck. Avoiding looking at him again.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
He returned a minute later to find her curled up in her comfy armchair, her head tipping over. He dropped her cat into her lap. She said, “Oh-hh, Harry,” and clutched the beloved pet to her chest so gratefully that he couldn’t stay irked by her wordless withdrawal.
“Thank you for taking care of my kitty while I was gone,” she said, practically purring herself as she rubbed cheeks with the blue-eyed Angora. They were a pair— pampered, elegant, aloof, but affectionate under the right circumstances. “You’re too good to us.”
Too good? Jamie shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t touch her.
Too bad.
THREE A.M. on the fire escape outside of the apartment of Marissa Suarez, and Allard was huddled against the cold drip of a misty rain. The shallow warmth of the day had dissipated from the building’s stones hours ago. He huffed a breath into his turned-up collar to warm his face. Patience and precision were a thief’s stock in trade. Acting rashly was never wise.
A droplet fell off the tip of his nose. His mouth puckered. Resorting to an attempted snatch on the street had been a foolish mistake. He’d been seduced by the couple’s distraction into thinking he could slip the amulet from the bag before they realized what was happening.
Flimsy as it was, the plan had almost worked. The alluring White Star had been at his fingertips when Marissa’s boyfriend had torn the