Annie on the Lam: A Christmas Caper

by Jennifer Archer

  “The blizzard seems worse.”

  “I thought about walking to the last little town we passed through. It’s not far, but I’m not sure I could see two feet in front of me.”

  “That’s a terrible idea. It’s too dangerous. You could get lost out there and freeze to death. Someone will drive by and help us.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that. Not on this road with the weather like it is.”

  Her frown deepened. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “According to the map, we were getting close to your aunt’s place.”

  She sighed. “What now?”

  “You take the wheel, and I’ll try to push us out.”

  Ten minutes later, Joe gave up. Their efforts had only dug the tires deeper into the snowbank. He instructed Annie to turn off the engine and give him the key. Then he trudged around back and opened the trunk where he kept a blanket. He’d never been a Boy Scout but when it came to safety, his police training had taught him to always be prepared.

  Panting from exertion and the cold, he slid in and closed the door. Annie had climbed up front into the passenger-side bucket seat. He lifted the blanket between them for her to see. “I’m afraid we have a long, cold night ahead of us.”

  Her gaze strayed to the frosted window where the wind whistled and howled. Then she gave him a sleepy-eyed smile. “I’m not worried. We Georgia girls know how to generate heat.” With a nod of her head, she motioned toward the back seat. “We should get out of these bucket seats and in back so we can share body warmth.” She shifted to crawl between the seats.

  Joe knew she was right; sharing body warmth would be the smart thing to do. He also knew she was trying to make the best of a bad situation with all that lighthearted talk about “Georgia girls.” But he wasn’t fooled. Annie was as conflicted as he was about crawling into that back seat together.

  He’d meant it earlier when he said she didn’t seem the type to have flings. But Joe had also noticed the way she studied him sometimes. When they looked at each other, he wasn’t the only one who liked what he saw. Still, he was pretty sure Annie was giving priority to rationality rather than sexuality by inviting him into the back seat with her. But he wasn’t certain he could do the same with her beside him all night long.

  After a tormenting back-and-forth with himself, Joe finally joined her.

  Annie ran a hand across Harry Landau’s coat. “This is big enough for both of us to cover up with.”

  “Right now, I’m pretty thankful to the poor creature who gave up its life so Landau could look pretentious,” Joe said. He reached over into the front and retrieved the blanket, his pulse kicking up as they unfolded it together. Shifting, they spread it across the seat. He willed himself to behave like a responsible adult as Annie shrugged out of Landau’s coat then pulled off her boots.

  “Nice argyles,” he said, teasing her about her wool socks.

  “My feet are like ice blocks all winter. I have a feeling my proper southern ancestors have turned over in their graves a time or two because of me.”

  “Argyles are a crime?”

  She fluttered her eyelashes dramatically. “A proper southern lady always looks her best, doesn’t blow her nose in public and absolutely never, ever sweats.”

  Laughing, Joe eyed the narrow seat, wondering how he would ever get any sleep with Annie stretched out so close to him. “How do you want to do this?” he asked her.

  “Why don’t you lay with your back to the seat, and I’ll lay with my back to you?”

  He didn’t have to look down at his lap to know that having her backside pressed against his frontside was not a good idea. “I’m kind of claustrophobic. You mind if we switch that up?”

  “No, that’s fine.”

  Annie stretched out, and Joe lay down on the seat beside her, teetering on the edge, facing the front of the car. He pulled the coat over them both.

  She draped an arm across his waist.

  He felt her breasts press against his back.

  “This isn’t going to work,” she said with a sigh. “Our heads are downhill.”

  The position of their heads was the least of Joe’s concerns. Still he said, “Let’s turn around then.” He sat up, scooted to the opposite end of the seat, perched at the edge.

  Annie lifted her feet, swung them to the floorboard, held onto the coat and scooted down beside him. “Sorry to be such a pain. You must think I’m high-maintenance.”

  Joe stared straight ahead, afraid if she saw his face, she’d read what was on his mind. “Not high-maintenance, just uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not.” She cleared her throat. Cleared it again. “Uncomfortable, I mean. I’m not, Joe.”

  He felt her breath on his cheek and turned, met her wide gaze.

  “Joe,” she whispered.

  In that instant, every argument about why this was a bad idea dislodged from Joe’s brain and began to fly out his ears along with his good sense. He kissed her, leaned his head forward slightly and gently touched his mouth to hers. Her lips weren’t cold at all. They were warmer and softer than he had even imagined. He deepened the kiss, tasted her, and her quiet moan wrapped around him and squeezed. Coming up for air, he murmured, “Annie.”

  Anne. Annabelle Macy. Macy, as in, Milford P.

  Jesus, what was he doing?

  Joe tensed and leaned away suddenly, caught hold of the last thread-thin remnants of his self-restraint before they exited his brain, too. He reached for the coat on the seat beside them. Time to put an end to this before it went too far.

  “Here. Cover up,” he croaked.

  Annie caught his gaze, held it. “I think what we were doing was a much better way to stay warm,” she said in a throaty voice that turned him upside down and inside out.

  Before he could think of a rational response, she reached up and grasped his shoulders, slid sideways onto his lap and kissed him softly again, just once, before easing back to look at him.

  His last thread of sanity snapped apart. Joe pulled her closer, tangled his fingers through her hair, tilted her face up. This time, he didn’t dip gently toward her mouth, he dove. And before he knew how it happened or who initiated the move, she was straddling his lap and they sat face-to-face with her knees pressed gently at either side of his hips. They stopped kissing and blinked at each other.

  “Annie…are you sure about this?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His heart bounced around in his chest like a pinball. Smiling, Joe asked quietly, “Doesn’t it break some kind of proper southern belle rule?”

  She smiled back. “I’ve never been a very good southern belle, anyway.” She unzipped his jacket and reached for the hem of his T-shirt.

  “Annie…I’m no different than those losers from your past. Only with a lot less to offer.”

  “Don’t say that. It’s not true.” She shook her head. “Please don’t ask me to think twice about this. I don’t care if it’s crazy. I’ve imagined being with you since you dropped my purse last night and I opened the bathroom door. Maybe before then. The way you look at me…” She averted her eyes briefly, met his gaze again. “I don’t think I’ve ever been with a man who wanted to make love with me just because…” Her brows tugged together and she looked down.

  “Because you’re beautiful? Exasperating and sexy and vital and—?” Joe frowned. “A man would have to be crazy not to see those things.”

  She met his gaze again and the desire in her eyes sucked the breath from Joe’s lungs. Suddenly, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He wanted her. For all those reasons and more. The rational, professional side of him screamed no. Big mistake. But the part of him that was simply a man—not an ex-cop, not a private investigator—screamed louder. And it screamed yes. He wanted her more than his own self-respect. More than the money her father owed him. More than he wanted Frank Reno’s head on a plate. He wanted to show her just how special she was, prove to her that all men were not like the idiots from her past, make her feel the w
ay she deserved to feel. He swallowed again. “I don’t have any protection with me.”

  She sent him a hesitant smile. “Can you reach my purse?”

  He leaned over, felt along the floorboard until he found it. “I forgot about your stash. You want to explain that, by the way?”

  “It was a gag gift from Lacy at the Christmas party last night.” Annie took the purse from him, opened it. “Private joke. She thinks I’m a nun in disguise. Lacy’s forever trying to ‘get me some action,’ as she puts it.”

  Joe kept his eyes on her as she placed a condom packet on the dash behind them. God, she was something else. Not even close to what he’d expected when he took this case. His nerves hummed and his heart drummed a wild beat when she slid her hands under his shirt and up to his bare chest.

  He had convinced himself he could resist her, told himself he didn’t have any other choice. From the moment she climbed in his cab for the first time last night, he had known that being with her like this would mess with his mind, make him so crazy he couldn’t think straight, place them both in more danger than they already faced.

  He was a grown man with a lot of years behind him, not some testosterone-crazed kid. But with her sweet round bottom settled atop his lap, her soft breasts pressing against the smooth fabric of her satin blouse, and her vulnerable expression twisting him up inside, Joe felt all those initial good intentions peeling away like old paint.

  He swept hair from her face, cradled her cheek in his hand. “Be sure, Annie. Once we start this—”

  “Shhh.” Smiling, she touched a finger to his lips. “Too late. We’ve already started.”

  He let her help him out of his coat and shirt then tossed them to the floor of the car. “I love the way you smell,” he whispered, taking hold of her shoulders and drawing her against him. “So sweet…” He nipped gently at her lips, teasing, tasting, then deepened the kiss, skimming his palms up satin from her waist to the swell of her breasts.

  When she moaned quietly into his mouth, he inched farther down in the seat, reached for the hem of her skirt, tugged it up around her waist and grasped hold of her hips. With his fingers pressed against the silky panties covering her bottom, he forgot the cold and the blustering storm outside, forgot their precarious situation and everything else except Annie and his own driving need.

  “Joe…I…” She fumbled with his belt buckle.

  He helped her unclasp it, slid his zipper down, brushed his knuckles against her inner thighs. She arched her back in a way that thrust her breasts closer to his face. “God,” Joe breathed, “look at you. Lift your arms for me, Annie.”

  She did, and he pulled the shirt over her head, then fumbled with the bra clasp between her breasts. She reached up to help him and their gazes collided, held. Their fingers bumped. Annie’s breathless laughter scattered goose bumps up his spine.

  Finally, the bra came free and Joe whisked it off and looked at her. “You’re more than I ever dreamed, Annie. So much more. So beautiful,” Joe said, his voice a low smooth rumble that rolled through her like thunder, shaking her. He leaned forward and kissed her, cupping her breasts in his hands, caressing and teasing, sending a rush of pleasure through her so intense she almost stopped breathing.

  Lowering one hand to her panties, he slid his fingers inside and stroked her until she begged him not to stop.

  “Wait, honey,” he whispered, then he leaned back, said, “Lift up a second. Let me get out of these jeans.”

  Annie moved to one side and slipped off her clothes while he shoved his jeans and briefs to his ankles. In only seconds, he was out of them. She drank in the sight and feel of him from his beautiful eyes all the way down. Incredible. Gorgeous. There weren’t enough words to describe what she thought of him. She loved looking at his broad shoulders, the dark dusting of hair on his chest, his flat stomach. He was every inch male, every inch beautiful, so blatantly sexy she almost couldn’t breathe.

  He pulled her onto his lap again. She held her breath as she looked down, blinked and stared, then met Joe’s gaze with an appreciative smile. His dark eyes gleamed, and when she touched him, his quick intake of breath only encouraged her. Annie imagined what he would feel like inside of her, filling her, moving, easing the mindless unbearable ache between her thighs.

  “Tell me what you want, Annie. Tell me what you imagined last night.”

  When she did, he reached back with one hand, and then he was tearing into the small packet that held the condom. Seconds later, he leaned her against the fur coat and settled himself between her legs, holding his body slightly above her with his arms.

  Annie heard the hiss of the wind, felt the car rock and sway and a tiny draft of cold air at the edge of the door. The brush of Joe’s chest tickled her breasts, making her nerve endings sing, her stomach clamp tight, the yearning spread. Then there was only his weight on top of her, his mouth at her breast, sucking and soothing, a hot rush of pleasure as he thrust inside of her.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, rocked against him, matching the rhythm he’d started, losing herself in the sounds and scents and sensations of their lovemaking. Sighs and moans and murmured words, Joe’s musky smell mingling with her own, his hands and mouth everywhere, building an overwhelming pressure within her that grew and grew until she thought she’d scream. And his eyes…they looked down at her…dark and hot and heart-stopping.

  “Let go, Annie,” Joe said in a low voice. “It’s just you and me.”

  And then she did scream, closed her eyes and cried out as spasms tore through her body with a shattering force. She held on to him, felt his shoulders tense, felt his answering shudder of release before he went lax on top of her.

  They clung to each other as they spiralled back down, and when Annie could think again, she was in total awe of what had just happened, the way he’d made her feel with a perfect combination of tenderness and passion. When Joe touched her, kissed her, looked at her, he convinced her she was all those things he’d proclaimed her to be. Beautiful. Sexy and exasperating. Vital. She smiled lazily, amazed. He’d said she was ‘vital’. Who knew how sexy that description would be? How much she’d needed to hear it?

  Joe had known. He’d known.

  “Joe…I never—”

  “Me, either.” He lifted a hand, stroked her hair. “Not like that. Never like that.”

  Annie laughed. “Joe?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “If we get out of this mess alive, remind me to thank Lacy for her Christmas gift, would you?”

  “Only if you thank her for me, too.”

  He lifted his head, smiled down at her with heavy-lidded eyes.

  And just like that, Annie felt it, that elusive, mysterious zing Sara had described. That feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she just had to have this man, that she wouldn’t survive if she ever had to let him go.

  CHAPTER 10

  Annie lay with her ear against Joe’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. She was naked and warm stretched out on top of him now, beneath Harry’s coat. Except for her nose. Her nose was numb. She scooted up, nuzzled her face into the crook of Joe’s neck.

  He played with her hair while his other hand rubbed the small of her back, her hip, her bottom. They hadn’t said much for the past half hour, just held one another. Annie was half afraid to speak. Too many words might break the spell, the simple perfection of what had happened between them.

  “My feet are warm,” she said finally. “They’re never warm. Not in the winter. It’s a miracle.”

  “I have that effect on women.” Joe’s voice was a low rasp in the darkness. “We should get dressed before the heat wears off.”

  She lifted her head and smiled down at him. “I think we have a while before that happens.”

  He traced a fingertip down her jawline, touched her lower lip, lingered. “I’m having a hard time figuring out why all your fiancés let you slip away.”

  “Oh, they didn’t want to. But the truth is, I don’t thin
k they were really after me. They were after the fringe benefits that came with me. Did I tell you my father’s filthy, stinking rich?”

  He didn’t answer that question, just watched her, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger. “I think you sell yourself short. How do you know it was only the money they wanted?”

  She shrugged. “They were all considered good catches, you know? They could’ve had their pick of women who would’ve been happy to stay home and run a household and entertain, and all that. And then, with the last two, I was older by then. Chuck and Lance had plenty of twenty-somethings panting at their heels. Why else would they have chosen me?”

  Joe sent her a bemused narrow-eyed look. “Who wants a girl when they can have a full-grown woman?” He squeezed her bottom.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Annie said with a laugh. “I didn’t want them.” She looked into his eyes. “They weren’t my type. I realize that now.”

  The moonlight reflecting off the snow illuminated Joe’s face. Annie touched her lips to the discolored skin beneath his left eye where she’d hit him with her shoe during the scuffle in her apartment. In the space of an instant, he had gone from satisfied and smiling, to troubled. She could feel it, see it in his expression, sense the sudden tension in him.

  She shifted a bit to her side, lifted onto her elbow.

  He glanced away.

  Why had she said that? Insinuated that he was her type. Obviously, Joe wasn’t ready to take what they’d started a step further. Maybe he never would be. He hadn’t promised her anything. She shouldn’t take it for granted that had had felt what she did when they’d made love.

  “I don’t expect anything from you, Joe. I understand if what just happened didn’t mean anything.”

  “It meant something, Annie. This shaky self-image thing you have goin’ on—”

  “I don’t have a shaky self-image,” she protested, but she thought to herself, he can see right through me.

  Joe scowled at her. “You told me people have always said you’re like your mother. Are you afraid that’s true?”