Breathless

by Nancy Warren

  Behind her, she felt Blake stiffen, felt his teeth sink into her shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, more, she thought, to muffle his own groan. Then he shuddered, pumping his life force into her as the waves of passion and music crested and slowly ebbed.

  Blake’s thrusts followed the same instinctive rhythm, bringing her down gently through all the aftershocks that rocked her body.

  Spent and shaken, she leaned against the metal wall then felt him leave her. She heard him straighten his clothing and zip up then he turned her until she was facing him. Only when he touched her face did she realize it was wet with tears. She couldn’t look him in the eye, didn’t want him to see inside her, to where she’d laid herself bare for him. Not now. Not yet.

  So she kissed him. But the kiss was almost as intimate as the loving and she felt he could see all the way inside her to her deepest self even though she had her eyes tightly shut.

  His kiss was so gentle and sweet that fresh tears stung her eyelids. When he finally let her go, he looked at her for a long moment, but all he said was, “I’m getting out while the coast is clear. I’ll see you back at our seats.”

  She took some time to clean herself up. Then she dried her tears and fixed her makeup. But nothing could cover the shattered expression she saw in her own eyes.

  Applause. The sound made her jump. The audience was clapping, loud, then louder as enthusiasm built for the performance.

  She stood there, surrounded by the sound, realizing she’d finally done what she thought she was incapable of. She’d fallen completely and forever in love.

  17

  “YOU’RE GETTING A reputation at the bank as an aggressive backstabber,” Sophie informed Blake after another fruitless day of digging for leads.

  He shrugged. “I’m trying to follow in Phil Britten’s tracks. The best way I can think of to track down bogus money is to pretend to be poaching the business from my colleagues.”

  “Well, some of our legitimate clients are telling their own account managers about your calls, and they complain to me.” She shot him a grumpy look. “Of course, they tell me unofficially. Maybe I could slip a word in your ear, they say with that smug expression that means they think I’ll whisper cautions in your ear after a bout of hot sex.”

  “No, really. You should try that,” he said, then laughed as she launched a shoe at him.

  He looked to be ready to retaliate when his cell phone rang. Not the cell phone she’d seen him carry at work, but a smaller, more high-tech-looking gadget. She knew it was his “real” cell, the one he used for his police work. His voice, his entire manner took on a more serious aspect when he answered. He spoke softly and rapidly, checked his watch. “I’ll meet you at the usual place. An hour.”

  “Isn’t it easy to be overheard on a cell phone?” she asked when he folded his and returned it to his pocket.

  He seemed miles away. “Hmm? Oh, it’s secure.”

  “I guess that means my phone’s insecure. Maybe it needs therapy.”

  Her weak joke couldn’t keep the flutter of nerves from her stomach.

  “I’ve got to go out for a while.”

  “Meeting with your female snitch?”

  Disconcerting humor flashed briefly in his eyes. “An informer. Yes.”

  She didn’t know what made her do it, but she crossed to him. Putting her hands on his shoulders she stared deeply into his gray-green eyes. Into the eyes of the man she’d gone and fallen madly and hopelessly in love with. “Be careful,” she said, and kissed him.

  “Did Tanya put you up to this? I had a feeling you and my sister would hit it off, but not that she’d turn you into a worrier.”

  In spite of their unconventional meeting—or maybe because of it—she and Tanya had indeed hit it off, and Sophie felt as though she had a new friend.

  “I like your sister a lot. She’s like you, only tougher.” She grinned at his expression. “But she didn’t start me worrying about you. I just got a weird feeling when you took that call. I can’t explain it.”

  She would have pulled away, but he didn’t let her. She felt one of his hands push into her hair while the other held her lower back, warm and sure. First he mimicked the soft brush of her lips against his, giving her back the caress. But she felt the building storm of desire swirling dark and dangerous just below the surface. “You going to wait up?” he asked, softly teasing, but somehow she knew the answer mattered.

  “Yes,” she whispered back. She would wait up for him, just like an anxious police wife. It felt natural somehow. As though it were part of her destiny.

  Then he deepened the kiss, letting some of his passion and need off the leash, so it nipped and jumped at her.

  Oh, yes. She’d be waiting up for him all right.

  When he let her go they were both shaking. “Don’t cool off,” he said, brushing her lips lightly one last time.

  Minutes later, he was gone.

  He hadn’t paid any attention when she was salvaging clothes from her apartment, so he hadn’t seen her tuck the midnight-blue silk nightgown into the bag. Because it was her favorite, and had been ridiculously expensive for something so small, she stored it in a padded, scented silk bag the lingerie store had sold her, and the bag had protected the gown from the smoke.

  It wasn’t much to salvage from an entire apartment, but the simple fact that one of her treasures had survived unscathed lightened her heart considerably. And visions of how her nightgown would affect Detective Barker had a smug smile curving her lips.

  Maybe it was time to stop running in new directions. Maybe it was time to stop and settle down. The first thing she needed to do was let Blake know she loved him. And she knew exactly how she was going to do it.

  She spent the evening in humming anticipation, bathing, shaving her legs, getting her hair just right, so it tumbled in sexy curls round her face, then she slipped on the nightgown.

  The silk whispered against her skin like seductive promises as she waited for Blake, trying to tamp down the nerves skittering in her stomach. It was ridiculous to feel nervous. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d made love.

  She sighed as she brushed out her hair and repositioned the candles one more time. It would be the first time they’d made love when she knew she was in love with him. That was an extremely significant event for Sophie, since she’d never felt this way before. Somehow, she knew it would be different this time. Sweet and tender as well as hot.

  He’d been gone for two hours. A flutter of worry snuck in among the nerves. He hadn’t said how long he’d be, but surely two hours was plenty.

  She hung freshly ironed blouses in the closet, poured herself a glass of wine, and, gritting her teeth against unreasonable fear, turned on the gas fire. Nothing exploded, but still, her hand shook slightly as she picked up a newspaper to pass the time.

  The minutes continued to tick by and she made a lot better progress emptying her wineglass than she did consuming the news.

  She’d gone from pretending to be relaxed on the couch to out-and-out pacing—and she figured she was about one minute from hand-wringing when she finally heard his soft knock and then the key in the door.

  Without any thought at all, she ran through the apartment to the front foyer and, satisfied at a glance that he was still in one piece, launched herself into his arms.

  “Hey.” He half laughed, but still scooped her into a tight embrace. “What’s all this about? You’re trembling.”

  “I was afraid something had happened to you. You were gone so long.”

  He buried his face in her hair and she nuzzled in closer, inhaling the warm comforting smell of him. Somewhere he’d encountered cigarette smoke, for she smelled that, too, and the faint whiff of beer. She pulled back slightly, wondering if she’d worried for nothing. “You met your source at a bar?”

  He shook his head and then sighed. “A cheap hotel room.”

  She could tell from his wary expression that he wasn’t sure how she’d take the news, but she
discovered she trusted him completely. “Your snitch is a hooker?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was it worth it?”

  His smile gleamed as lethal as a hunter’s blade and sent an involuntary shiver through her. “It was worth it. An unknown person will be meeting with my friend Wai Fung Li to buy a new identity.”

  “But, I thought you were after the triad for drugs?”

  “He’s already wanted for murder and drugs.”

  “Murder? I thought those big shot mobsters had their henchmen do the killing?”

  “He does, but Li also enjoys killing people.” He rubbed his hands together. “We know where he’ll be tomorrow, and I can identify him. Sophie, this is it.”

  He kissed her, but instead of desire, she felt fear. Her heart bumped uncomfortably in her ribs.

  Taking her hand, he led her into the living room. He blinked when he saw the gas fireplace blazing, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he flopped back on the couch, taking her with him so they both tumbled against the soft leather and she ended up with her head resting on his chest.

  “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

  “No.” He ran a hand through her hair and she sighed with pleasure, feeling the individual pads of his fingers pressing lightly against her scalp until she rubbed her head against him, resisting the urge to purr.

  “When’s the meeting?” she asked, fighting the nerves that tightened her muscles.

  “Tomorrow at six.” He tweaked her ear. “Don’t worry, Ms. Human Resources Manager. I won’t miss a minute of work.”

  She tried to smile, but the nerves were tightening. She couldn’t explain why, but she had a bad feeling about the meeting. “You’re undercover. Can’t someone else go in your place?”

  “I’ve been working this case for two solid years, nothing’s keeping me away from the biggest break we’ve had. Besides, I’m the one who can identify him.”

  “But your leg…”

  “I’m a fast healer. It’s fine.”

  Running out of logical arguments, she went with the truth. “Please, Blake. I can’t explain it, I just have a really bad feeling about this.”

  “Women’s intuition?”

  “Maybe.” Or maybe this unreasoning fear was a normal byproduct of loving a man. If so, it was a heavy burden to carry, worrying so much about his safety.

  “I’ll wear a bullet-proof vest just for you. How’s that?”

  “Bullet-proof head-to-toe armor would suit me better. You not being there would suit me perfectly.”

  “Hey, what’s got into you?”

  You. She wanted to tell him. She’d been smart to stay away from love all these years. She must have known deep down how painful it would be to care this much for another person. And when that person was a cop chasing the deadliest criminals, she could have smacked herself upside the head for her own stupidity.

  Instead she asked another question. “Where is it?”

  “In a club in Chinatown.”

  “Which—”

  “I’ve already told you too much. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “I love you.” The words were out before she could stop them. Once again she cursed her own impulsiveness. This wasn’t how she’d planned to tell him, it had slipped out.

  His entire body went rigid. “Huh?”

  “You wanted to talk about something else. It slipped out. I love you.”

  “If you love me how come you sound so miserable?” There was a glimmer of a smile in his eyes.

  “I am miserable. You’re the last person I want to love. You’re not my type. You’re pushy, bossy and arrogant. Half the time I don’t even like you. You work in a dangerous job. You could be killed.” She started out strong, but her voice was shaking by the end.

  “I’m a cop. But I’m a careful cop. I won’t get killed tomorrow.” He brushed her hair back off her forehead. “I promise.”

  She snorted, fighting the wetness gathering in her eyes. “And if you break your promise, I’m going to have a tough time collecting. You can’t say ‘I told you so’ to a dead man.” She hated the way her tone wavered as she tried to get the words out. “I’ve never been in love before. I hate it.”

  He kept a soothing rhythm, brushing the hair off her forehead and down the side to her neck then he’d start the process over again. Somehow he seemed to understand she needed the physical contact.

  “Sophie,” he said softly and gently, in a tone she’d never heard him use before. Her heart held its beat. Her lungs held their breath. It was coming. He was going to admit he loved her, too. Somehow she’d talk him out of going into danger tomorrow. And they could start planning a future together. “You don’t love me.”

  Her breath expelled as though her lungs were spitting. Anatomically incorrect, but that’s just how it felt. Her heart began beating again, too. Hard and fast, pushing angry blood into her cheeks. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Pardon?”

  “It’s this crazy situation—the danger, losing your apartment, you staying here. It’s making you irrational.”

  This time she didn’t even try to stop the tears pooling. He didn’t love her. Worse, he didn’t believe she loved him. “You may not love me back, I understand that. But do me the courtesy of letting me know my own feelings. I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with you. It’s very inconvenient, but I’m stuck with it. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine.”

  She tried to struggle off the couch, but he held her back, turning her face to his. “I feel a lot of things when I’m with you. We’re both bewitched.” Then he pulled her into a kiss.

  And not just any kiss. A kiss of such intimacy and sweetness she felt as though it were a different Blake kissing her.

  She ought to pull away and go to bed alone. But tomorrow he was going into danger and that made tonight doubly precious.

  It was time for her to stop playing games.

  She pulled away, breaking the contact with regret and rose, but only to reach her hand down to grasp his and pull. He got to his feet and followed her.

  The nerves playing jump rope in her belly went at it double time as she followed her instincts and her heart. Right into his bedroom.

  The bed was already turned down and she’d placed candles and matches about. She began lighting them, focusing her attention on each flame as it sprang to life.

  She heard him behind her, but didn’t turn. Couldn’t. For the moment she felt utterly vulnerable.

  When all the candles were lit and candlelight danced upon the walls and bed, she turned.

  He was leaning against the wall, watching her, his eyes unreadable in the wavering candlelight. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I’m saying, this time it counts,” and, putting both hands on the hem of her nightgown, she pulled it slowly and deliberately over her head.

  18

  BLAKE DIDN’T THINK HE’D ever seen a sight quite as beautiful as Sophie naked in candlelight.

  No. It wasn’t just that. It was Sophie, naked in candlelight, in his bedroom. Her crazy pretense that their sex didn’t count had begun to rankle. Now, she was willing to admit it did matter. And he found that as erotic and exciting as the sight of her limbs, naked and luscious in the wavering silver-white candle glow that spun her hair gold, tipped her nipples with deep rose and drew his eyes to the dark mystery between her thighs.

  She said she loved him, but he knew that wasn’t so. She’d become carried away, that’s all. Homeless, chased by killers, she’d turned to him, both sexually and emotionally. They were even living in the same apartment, no wonder she was having fantasies.

  Once this was over and she was back in control of her life, she’d feel a little awkward that she’d fallen into the common trap of falling in love with her protector. He’d seen it happen dozens of times—more than once to him.

  The things a woman said in times of crisis were like the cries she made at climax. Not to be taken seriously—and words a gentle
man tried not to remember.

  Still, if he’d ever come close to making the same foolish mistake himself, it was with Sophie. She got to him as no woman ever had. Thank God he was trained to recognize the signs of a temporary infatuation caused by stress.

  Her declaration he’d ignore. But her naked body, moving toward him with long-limbed grace, he couldn’t dismiss. Probably this affair was the product of stress and temporary infatuation, too. There were probably men in the world who could have resisted becoming intimate with Sophie.

  He was not one of those men.

  He needed her in his bed with a fierceness that surprised him. And because his hunger was so fierce, he vowed to treat her gently.

  He reached out and touched her hair.

  She nipped his lower lip and made him gasp.

  Slowly, slowly, he reminded himself, as with restrained gentleness he let his fingers skim the underside of her breast.

  She grabbed the neck of his shirt and, grunting with effort, ripped it open, sending buttons flying. She clawed at his jeans in her haste to get him naked and it took all his self-control not to give in to the raging hunger he felt radiating from her body.

  He wanted to make this special for her, after her surprising announcement. Even a woman only temporarily in love deserved to be treated like a wedding-night bride, so he reined in his own need while she stripped him bare, nipping him wherever she felt like. His belly, hip, thigh, even his pale, recently freed leg. The lady wasn’t being all that delicate. She chomped on him as though she were starving!

  Her speed and lack of finesse only made him more determined to hold back before they both combusted. It crossed his mind to take her right there, up against the wall with the moonlight fluttering over her body making her look like a provocative Greek statue. But there was nothing in the Parthenon that could hope to compete with flesh-and-blood woman.

  He wanted her in bed, damn it, and in bed he would have her. Since she was acting half out of her mind with lust, he had to manhandle her a little which she didn’t seem to mind at all.