Catch Me if You Can

by Christine Bell

  "And when will you step out of the room to return the stuff I nabbed?"

  "We'll give it an hour or so, for sure, but I can't pin it down more than that for you. When I see a window of opportunity where everyone is preoccupied, I'll give you a sign. You give me one back to let me know you’re comfortable, and I'm off. I think I'll need about three or four minutes. All you have to do is keep him busy during that time."

  She pursed her lips and nodded, clearly deep in thought about their shared mission. It must have been nice to be able to focus so intently on her objective without the kind of maddening distraction he had to deal with. Like the way her perfume fanned out every time she shook her head, or the enticing line of her outstretched finger up that toned arm all the way to the swell of her breasts again.

  "I think I can handle that."

  He had no doubt. She was a chameleon and he was pretty sure she could handle anything he threw at her.

  "Okay,” he said, regrouping to continue the task at hand. “So we go in, and you pour on the charm and the drinks. Get him loose and a little unawares. We play for a while, and you use that time to slowly build up a nice little score. It's not uncommon for one of the guys to walk away with forty or fifty grand, so I think you can definitely get away with doubling your money without anyone even looking twice at you."

  At least, not for that reason, at any rate. There was no question the rest of the guys would be looking at her more than twice that night, and probably again later in their dreams. Especially if she wore anything even remotely as sexy as what she had on now.

  "That kind of money would be a godsend for us," she murmured, staring down at the blueprints.

  An icy ball formed in his stomach at her words. “Us?” Did she have a child whose well-being she was risking with this lifestyle? He couldn’t be party to that. Or maybe “us” meant a husband…

  "Me and my sister, Clarissa. She’s…sick. From the time I can remember, we were taking her to the hospital or waiting for the ambulance to come. I was five when she was born. The day they brought her home, she wouldn't stop crying. I thought it was the worst sound I'd ever heard."

  Her lips tipped into a little smile that was bittersweet and twisted him up in knots.

  "I laid in bed and covered my head with a pillow, but that didn't work. So I made a little tent out of sheets in my closet and tried to sleep there, but that didn't work either. Finally, I got so mad, I climbed into her crib with her. Who knows what I was planning? Something horrible, probably, because I was a bossy little shit.” She let out a hollow little laugh. “But then I looked at her face and she looked at me and something...broke open inside of me. So I curled up next to her and patted her little round belly for a while, and eventually, she stopped."

  Her eyes took on a faraway look and she paused for a long moment before she continued. "So strange, that cry. It was so strong, it seemed like she could bring the walls down if she wanted to. As summer turned to fall and fall to winter, that cry got weaker and weaker, and the fevers started. When she was two we got the definitive diagnosis. Leukemia. I lay awake at night praying that I'd hear that cry again. Clarissa, wailing her heart out."

  Tears sprang to her eyes and he wished like hell he knew what to say, what to do to ease her pain.

  "Sadie, I'm so sorry to hear of her suffering. It’s a terrible disease."

  "It is. But she’s getting better. We had some good years mixed in with the bad.” She swiped a hand over her eyes and sucked in a breath. “And after a bone marrow surgery and this last round of treatments, she’s now cancer free. But all that cost money we didn’t have, so…" she shrugged and pursed her lips.

  So she stole things from bad people. He got that. Hell, if he’d been in her shoes, he’d have done it a thousand times over if he had to.

  "What about medical insurance? Can they turn her away if-"

  "My father never even graduated high school and my mother waited tables my whole life until she died. They made ends meet, but he was just a handyman and when money was tight, our insurance lapsed. Her diagnosis came during one of those lapses. You can imagine how hard it would be to get an insurance company to take a person on with a pre-existing condition that cost in the neighborhood of a hundred thousand dollars a year to manage. So my dad started picking up…night work.”

  He could imagine exactly how that had gone, and swallowed the litany of curses that flew to his lips at the thought of it. The idea of leaving a child to the mercy of an illness like that, over money, sickened him.

  "It was enough to get by for a few years, until my mother was coming home one night after working a double shift at the restaurant. A drunk driver hit her head on and she was killed instantly. We did get some insurance money from the driver's policy, but Clarissa's health declined after my mother's death. The money was gone within a year. We were left with a choice. Work hard at school and hope Clarissa managed to hang on until I graduated and found that great paying job to support her, or I start working with my dad to pick up the slack."

  "For a while, it was a straight up hustle. We ran the local poker circuit. Then we moved to pool, hustling all over the city, and we racked up quite a bit of dough. Eventually, though, people catch on. You start to get noticed, and the jig is up. We had to make the leap from hustling to out and out stealing. It was a tough transition. My father's family was broke, but they always worked their asses off. The thought of taking money from someone who had worked that hard didn't sit right. We picked pockets for a while, but eventually, the guilt ate him up inside. He died of a heart attack when I was nineteen, and I decided to do things differently.”

  "You decided to become a female Robin Hood."

  "No,” she shook her head and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Don't romanticize it to make me feel better. It wasn't like Robin Hood at all. I stole from the rich, all right. And then I kept the money."

  He wanted to argue. To remind her of why she did it, and tell her that she’d done the right thing, but he knew it was pointless. Unless she believed it herself, his words wouldn’t help.

  “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a wonderful sister,” he said softly.

  Apparently, it was the right thing to say because she smiled at him, her eyes filled with quiet gratitude. “Thanks.”

  They stood there in silence that felt entirely too intimate until he broke it.

  “So, what do you say I make the call for some takeout and you can impress me with your card mechanic skills while we wait? Let me in on some trade secrets.”

  She stepped away from the table and pinned him with a gaze that pierced right through him.

  “We could do that.” Her elegant throat worked as she swallowed audibly. “Or we could do…something else instead.”

  His muscles tensed, as much from her words as from that husky tone of her voice, and he took a step toward her. “Just to be clear, are we talking about eggs again, Countess?”

  Her slow smile sent his blood running hot as she met him halfway. “I think I am. If you’re interested, that is.”

  Nothing had changed. Sleeping with her was still a terrible idea. He was right on the cusp of seeing all his goals realized. Now wasn’t the time to take his eye off the ball. Not to mention that she was a thief and a con artist, and for all he knew, he could’ve been her real mark all along.

  But somehow, none of that mattered. When her still haunted eyes locked with his, and they finally stood, toe to toe? He was lost.

  “Are you sure, Sadie?”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered. “I’m sick of watching life pass me by. I want to dive in and feel for once.”

  Her words echoed through him and he dipped his head to press his lips to her. She wasted no time in kissing him back, meeting his fervor with an insistence all her own. The kiss was deeper than he'd expected, and when her teeth closed over his bottom lip, he growled against her mouth.

  He dropped his hands from where they’d found their way to he
r hips, and pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were hooded, and her breathing came in shallow, ragged drags.

  There was no faking this. Sadie wanted him. And he'd be damned if he could muster the strength to turn her away again.

  Chapter Nine

  It went from zero to sixty in five seconds flat. One moment, they were exchanging soft, sensual kisses, and the next? It was off the rails and that was exactly how she wanted it.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and plastered her body to his, loving the way his touch made her mind go blank and her body catch fire. There were no shitty apartments or eviction notices. No hospitals or prison fears.

  There was just Jake, and right now, that meant everything.

  He crushed his lips against hers again, gripping her hips and giving back everything he got, tenfold. One hand trailed around to grab her ass, anchoring her to him, and she gasped. The thick bulge in his pants hit her right in the sweet spot, and sent a bolt of heat through her.

  Jesus, he smelled good. Like Irish Spring and worn, expensive leather. Her head spun as his feet began to move, walking her backward toward the sofa until she bumped into something cold and hard on the back of her knees. The end table? She couldn't tell until their kiss deepened and she bumped into it again. There was a crash and the light danced around them until the room settled into semi-darkness. The lamp. They must have knocked it over, but neither of them even paused.

  All she could think about was the way his fingers kneaded her breasts, tweaking her nipple through her shirt. Teasing her until she was ready to rip the damn fabric off herself. Why wouldn't he undress her already?

  "Christ," she breathed, and finally did the thing herself, pushing his hand away momentarily so that she could yank her halter over her head.

  He groaned his approval before diving back in. When his lips found hers again, his teeth closed over her bottom lip and she arched into him, hoping that he'd finish the job she’d begun for him. His fingers toyed with the front of her strapless bra, flicking against the clasp before skimming away to trace her nipples again until she moaned into his mouth.

  "Why?" she pleaded. It was just the one word, but with the blood pounding in her ears, she was surprised she’d even managed that much. Besides, it seemed to have gotten the message across. He smiled against her mouth and then nipped her lip again before answering.

  "Because you look hot when you’re mad," he said.

  "I must be irresistible right now, then." She unhooked the bra herself and then tossed it to the side.

  He cupped one breast in each hand, his gray eyes going almost black. "Jesus, you have no idea."

  He bent low, his warm breath washing over her chest before he sucked one tight bud into his mouth, drawing on it gently. The ache between her thighs was building and if she didn't have him soon, she was sure she'd burst into a million pieces.

  She pushed the end table aside with her calf and leaned her backside against the arm of the sofa.

  No sooner had her ass connected with the leather, than he was gripping her hips and turning her around. He didn't bend her over. Instead, he fisted the back of her hair and pulled her close, placing one hand flat against the plane of her belly while his lips tickled her ear.

  "I think about this every time I see you," he said. “Being inside you. Touching you like this.”

  She’d already bared so much of herself to him that, for a moment, she wished for the wherewithal to come back with a witty response, but she had nothing.

  "Me too," she whispered. He laid her hair over her shoulder to trail sucking kisses over her nape and then she felt it. The movement behind her, followed by the oh-so welcomed sound of a zipper and the rustle of his jeans. The sound of tearing foil and harsh breathing as he sheathed himself. Her whole body went tense with anticipation. And then there he was, pressed against the seam of her skirt, hot and hard and ready.

  She closed her eyes and squeezed her thighs together. God, if only he would just bend her over and end this teasing...

  She should have known better.

  Every move made her think the time had almost come. The drag of his hand along the outside of her thigh until he'd pushed her skirt up around her hips; the hooking of a finger around the crotch of her already-soaked panties, pulling them to the side to make room for him.

  It was right there. The promise was made. All he had to do was plunge in deep and fill her up the way she needed him to so badly...

  With one hand, he cupped her breast, circling her nipple with his thumb while he guided himself between her quaking thighs with the other.

  One thrust and he'd be buried deep. Instead, he slid forward, pressing himself against her clit and teasing her legs open wider, sending her every nerve-ending screaming to life.

  "I want you inside me.”

  He responded by running the edge of his teeth over her nape before planting a gentle kiss there. She arched her back, tried to bend to entice him, but it was all too clear that he wasn't playing by her rules.

  Just as desperation began to mingle with desire, he pulled back and slid deep, filling her. For a moment, her world tilted on its axis and her vision went dark while she stretched to accommodate him. God, it felt like he went on forever. She sucked in a breath and willed her muscles to relax. The shock at his size was wearing off in a hurry as fresh waves of desire pulsed through her.

  “Okay?” he murmured, kneading her hip gently.

  She nodded, flexing back against him and gasping at the resulting sensation. “Way better than okay.” Pure magic.

  He curled a hand around her torso and cupped her breast, drawing back before thrusting forward. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to suppress a shiver.

  “You feel so good. So tight,” he groaned, the bridled power of his controlled movements making her pulse race even faster.

  Riding her slow and steady with long strokes. Yet another layer of torment. She wanted fast and gritty, in a headlong rush to the finish line.

  But that wasn't Jake.

  He worked her body like he was executing a long-awaited master plan. Every move played off of the next. He traced a finger down her spine in the softest of caresses, a study in contrasts as his hips drove her relentlessly toward a frenzy. When her walls quaked against him, he would push deep and hard inside her, once, twice, three times, and then slow to a gentle rock again. It was the most amazing torture she'd ever experienced, and with every thrust she was torn between wanting it to go on forever and wanting to put it to a permanent, screaming end.

  Her fingernails dug into the leather so hard that she thought she might tear it open, but she couldn’t stop. The ache inside her built like flood waters, threatening to burst through and drag her under. She bit her lip to hold back a moan, but couldn't stop it. So close. She could see the point of no return…

  And then the world burst into a thousand tiny pieces and shattered around her. The tingling spread from her toes to her fingertips to the top of her head. Her ears rang as his body stiffened and his cock pulsed inside her. She pushed back, anchoring her ass to his hips, driving him deeper, wanting him to fall with her.

  “Jesus,” he groaned, his fingers closing over her hips in a punishing grip.

  She cried out as his hips moved liked pistons, sending her body rocketing straight from one climax to the next. His cock twitched and jerked inside her as he came, her name a murmured chant on his lips.

  When it was finally over, she sagged against the arm of the sofa, breathing deep as the world slowly began to right itself. He gently pulled away from her and she waited for the regret to come flooding in, followed by the urge to run, but it never did. Instead, she had to quell the need to face him. To wrap her arms around his lean waist and press her face into the crook of his neck and breathe in that comforting scent that was all Jake.

  And that? That was even scarier than prison.

  ***

  Jake held his finger over the dial button and finally depressed it with a muttered oath. What
was the big deal? He and Sadie were partners --at least in this, at least for now-- and if they wanted to do it right, it made perfect sense that he’d touch base again before the big day.

  Only that's not why you're calling her, is it, ya' stupid git?

  Nope, he was calling her because, in the three days since they'd slept together, he hadn't been able to get her out of his head. Hell, if he was being honest, that had pretty much been the case since he'd first laid eyes on her. He'd been in such a dark place for so long and as confounding as she'd been the majority of the time, she was also the bright spot in his day. Whether she was leaping from balconies, kneeing him in the balls, or screwing his brains out, he found himself thinking of her after the fact, and smiling.

  How twisted was that?

  But when she’d gone tear-assing out of his house the other night not ten minutes after they’d had sex, he could only assume she wasn’t on the same page.

  "Hello?" She sounded frazzled and out of sorts, and he cleared his throat.

  "Jake here, how's things?"

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Um, good. Good. You?"

  She sounded nervous now but decidedly less irritated than when she answered, which gave him hope.

  "Good, thanks. Only a couple more days until the big night. Wondered if you wanted to get together, go over the plan one last time, maybe get a bite to eat."

  "Tonight?"

  "If you're free." He offered the easy out in an effort to avoid putting her on the spot. The last thing he wanted was to pressure her, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t at least let her know that he was very interested in spending more time with her.

  "I am but...well, sort of. I was going to hit some secondhand shops for a new dress. The only Countess-wear I have was that dress I wore to the gala. I've got to get some designer duds for poker night so I don't look out of place."

  "We can go together. I've got a great eye for fashion," he lied smoothly. "And then, when we're done, we can eat and do a quick run-through."