Fortunes Fool

by Gale, Eva; D'Arc, Bianca; Kent, Cassidy; March, Selah

  Miss Gypsy turned to meet his gaze and a look of confusion flashed across her eyes. What a brilliant actress. He almost fell for her look of innocence.

  Matt walked the expanse of the room, inspecting the various tainted machinery. Stained ink bottles and empty bleach containers lay around in a haphazard mess. Dark stains blotted the floor like a Jackson Pollack painting. He turned to the right side of the room and noticed the stacks of crisp white paper tightly shrink wrapped and piled high on industrial shelves along with additional supplies.

  Matt whirled and gave her a suspicious stare. "I hope you've got one good alibi."

  "This isn't what it looks like…" she sputtered defensively. "I'm not involved in…whatever this is," she said, gesturing helplessly to the evidence.

  Matt looked her squarely in the eyes. "I thought that's what you'd say." He frowned at the tears brimming at her eyes. God, she was good. She made him feel guilty for what he was about to do.

  Reaching behind his back, he pulled out the handcuffs tucked away in the waistband of his jeans. Matt reached for her hand and held firmly to her wrist.

  "I'm sorry about this," he said before flipping the cuff open and securing it around her wrist. "But you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be held against you…"

  Miss Gypsy shrieked in alarm, "Wait. Who are you? What are you doing? I haven't done anything. There has to be something I can do to fix this."

  "Lady, from the looks of things, you've done more than enough already."

  "For your information, my name is Miranda. Not 'lady'! And I've never committed a criminal act in my life. Except for the time when I was five and stole a Tootsie Roll from Marvin's Short Stop and my dad made me go back and pay for it. Otherwise, you can do a background check on me and I swear it'll come up clean."

  He reached for her other wrist and Miranda didn't try to resist when he pulled her hand in front of her before snapping the cuffs together. Matt couldn't believe she was cooperating with him. He had imagined she'd try her best to get away.

  "I'm telling the truth! I just got this job. I know I'm not a real psychic…" "You don't say…" Miranda gushed, "But I needed the money! I needed the research for

  work or else my landlord was going to evict me." "And what kind of con job are you researching here?" "I'm a women's fiction author." He quirked a brow and she frowned. "All right, I write romance for a living. I spin tales of love and, and, and…adventure! And I needed to discover the inner workings of a psychic for material on my next novel." He wasn't convinced in the least. "Grasping for straws, are we?" Miranda blew away a loose tendril of hair that fell across her

  forehead and the frustration on her face made him bite back a smile. "It's the truth. You can find my books on Amazon.com. The Seaman's Concubine, by Miranda Franklin! And Wrangling the Rancher's Daughter comes out this summer!"

  Matt let out a rip-roaring laugh. "Somehow I don't think they'll be making it to my must read list." He quickly stifled his enjoyment at the spark of annoyance in her expression.

  "I'll have you know Concubine has gotten a number of five star reviews."

  "Impressive. I'd love to continue this idle chatter, but I actually have a job to do. I'd advise you to stay still for a few seconds."

  Wanting to document the evidence before her back-up returned, Matt withdrew a palm-sized digital camera from his front jeans pocket and proceeded to snap pictures of all the faux loot. His eyes caught sight of several large trash bags hidden behind the door. He walked over and untied one of the bags and a slew of scrapped bills spilled onto the floor.

  He bent down and scooped up a handful of the papers, tossing the misprinted bills aside after taking snapshots of the counterfeit proof.

  Matt turned around and Miranda collided against his chest. "What the hell?" The nosy twit, she appeared to be just as eager to see what he had discovered.

  "Do you mind, Miranda?" Her name rolled off his tongue all too easily and the slight tingling fired up again. His stomach squeezed at her nearness and he had the urge to kiss those lush lips. Don't look at me like that! Those big round eyes were begging for it. She licked her lips and his cock jolted to life. He gnashed his teeth together, not comprehending why his body flared up at the very sight of Miranda. There was something absolutely surreal about his lust for her and it puzzled him.

  She wasn't his type. Or was she? A spark of memory captivated him. Miranda naked before the mirror, touching herself in all the places he ached to taste. Matt wanted to feast on those perfect breasts and explore every inch of this Gypsy who put a spell on him.

  That's it. It had to be it. Shit! All that mumbo jumbo she did must have worked. "You're in enough trouble as it is," he barked at her in frustration. "I'm going to have to ask you to step back."

  Miranda didn't budge. Her sudden look of innocence took on a wicked gleam. She peered at him through thick, dark lashes. "What do I need to do to get out of this…trouble?" Fuck. It couldn't be. Miranda was trying to trade sexual favors to get out

  of this mess and he was salivating to take her up on the proposition. Matt swallowed hard at the thick lump lodged in his throat. Think, damn it, think. He was on suspension, so technically, he wasn't on the clock. Which left him to consider his options. Was he fool enough to fuck her blind and deal with the consequences later? Or should he just turn her in and get her out of his hair once and for all? Bad time for him to gain a conscience. Matt had always chosen the right path, or at least not the deadwrong one, so why did he suddenly find himself compelled to let his cock dictate his choice? And why in the name of hell did he find himself believing her far-fetched alibi?

  God, she had begun running her mouth again while he deliberated with his conscience.

  "…can't have my name blemished by an arrest. I can't ruin my reputation as a writer when I've worked so hard to promote myself." "I suppose there may be one way…" "Anything. I'll do anything! I swear I'm innocent of whatever you

  think I'm involved in," she pleaded with hope-filled eyes. Was it just him or did the room suddenly grow warmer? Matt couldn't stop staring at her luscious lips as she spoke, her face filled with passion, the steady rise and fall of her chest. Perfect mounds he would quite enjoy feasting on. "Anything?" He quirked a brow in interest. "Anything." Matt crossed his arms and heaved a deep sigh. "Well, perhaps there is something you can do." He dropped his arms and stepped in closer to Miranda.

  He watched her ecstatic expression drop as a blush of alarm spread over her fair skin. She stammered and took a quick step back. "I…I didn't mean that kind of anything."

  He found this little game immensely entertaining. He took a step forward and trapped Miranda against the wall. Leaning in close, Matt practically purred against her ear, "So which

  is it? Your freedom or your reputation up in flames?" What? His mind screamed. What the hell did I just say? He felt a warmth surround him, growing hot and fast as a light perspiration beaded across his forehead. What was going on? Matt couldn't explain his attraction to this woman. Miranda had a sexual hold over him and he didn't know what to think any more. Maybe the minx had put a spell over him. For fuck's sake, he was starting to fall for the mumbo jumbo. Even if she was a fraud.

  He held his breath when she bit her lower lip, milling over the decision in her head. She flicked her tongue over her lips and his cock saluted in attention. When she finally spoke, his heart nearly lunged out of his chest. "Yes. Yes, I'll do it."

  * * * * Miranda felt like a fool for believing that he wanted her to trade her body for freedom. Boy, was she wrong. She had been as bold as to close her eyes and lean in for a kiss that never came. Moron! All he wanted was for her to cooperate with him.

  A part of her had been relieved, but the other half felt a deep disappointment. She had to admit the thought of hot, sweaty sex with this man was just the thing she needed to add to her novel. Sex with a stranger in a dark and forbidden place. It would have been perfect!

  Instead, they were sprawled
on the floor sifting through mounds of paperwork and comparing findings against the books. How lame was this? She blew out a frustrated breath. It seemed like hours. Every time he shifted, his thigh would brush up against her and she felt the world whirl on its axis. Once, he reached over and his arm connected to her breast. Her nipples had hardened to pebbled peaks and her thighs tingled from the contact.

  He had unlocked one side of her cuffs to make it easier for her to review the papers, but she still felt the subliminal incarceration.

  Miranda was beyond frustration. Why don't you touch me already? Why don't yourip off my clothes and ravage me with kisses?

  She didn't realize she had been grumbling under her breath until he gave her a questioning look, his mouth quirked into a smile. "Something you wanted to say?"

  Her brows drew together at the hint of laughter in his voice. "How would you feel if the roles were reversed? I don't think you'd enjoy being handcuffed like a common criminal."

  His rich laugh added to her brewing anger. "Based on the evidence, Miranda, you are a criminal until proven otherwise."

  She gripped a receipt in her hand and felt it crumple in her palm. "Ooh, I really don't like you."

  "I don't need to be liked. Look, I want to find the evidence I'm searching for and wash my hands of you. I'm sure you want to be rid of me, too."

  Miranda scoffed. "Oh, I want to be rid of you all right. I am so going to kill you off in my next novel. You'll be immortalized forever." The thought cheered her up.

  "I will definitely expect an autographed copy, then." Archer's smugness only enhanced her growing disdain for him, but her rebellious body seemed to find him extremely attractive. Unhappy with her reaction to him, she realized her only course of action was to find the proof he had wanted on Farra's Fortunes and get far,far away from him. The sooner the better. "I said I'd help you, but I never said I'd engage in conversation." Her perverse mind wouldn't leave those words alone. Thoughts popped to mind of engagement in several positions, with handcuffs intact. She felt her cheeks flush and hoped he didn't notice.

  His face softened as he stared at her for a long while. "Hey, you all right? Are the fumes getting to you?"

  She saw the genuine concern on his face. Miranda shook her head. "Everything's fine, although it's kind of hot in here." She only wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Never had she been so magnetically drawn to anyone as she was to Archer.

  "All right, then. Let's go through these last set of ledgers." He grabbed several black, leather bound books and handed them to her.

  His fingers brushed against hers and that familiar tingle worked its way through her body and stirred every nerve ending to arousal. Miranda made the mistake of looking at him and their eyes connected. In those brief moments, she fell victim to the fiery lust blazing within those intense hazel depths.

  "Ma?" a husky, male voice called from the foyer. Archer froze, his hands wrist-deep in the filing cabinet. "Oh, shit…" Miranda hissed. "I hope you're packing heat." "Ma?" came the voice again. "You back there?" "Oh, sh—" "Quiet," Archer commanded. He wordlessly pointed to the small

  cabinet embedded in the wall. Miranda knew he wanted her to hide there, to wait out the ensuing showdown between Ma Edith's dopey son and Sheriff Archer. He didn't even have the proof he needed and he had no plausible story for being there that would allow him to continue to collect evidence. If for some bizarre reason Archer didn't have a gun, he could wind up dead. Or worse. The sounds of the visitor's loping gait grew closer, moving in from the foyer to the main room. Seconds from the sound of the curtain swooshing aside, Miranda shoved Archer back against the wood paneling of the wall. She threw her arms around his neck and looked up into his shocked face. "What are you—" Miranda put a finger to his supple mouth. She didn't bother to deny to herself that she enjoyed the sensation. With a grin, she grabbed two fistfuls of his white t-shirt and hauled it over his head. She kicked off her shoes and threw a leg up around his waist, her skirt riding up her thighs.

  "Quiet," she mimicked. Her mouth closed over his just as the curtain brushed aside.

  A short, rotund man in his mid-thirties stood in the doorway. The dusk of night behind him outlined his face, the bare, hanging bulb of the backroom illuminating, yet harshly shadowing his features. "What the hell is going on here?" Miranda broke from Archer's embrace with heaving breath. She hoped her lipstick had smudged from the kiss and that her eyes slanted with passion. She hoped the man saw all of these things, earmarks of one hot night of clandestine ardor. "What the hell do you two think you're doing?" the man asked. "I—" Miranda blushed. "Christening my new work place?" She laughed, gesturing with Archer's t-shirt. "My boyfriend, Bobby, just got back into town and I guess we got a little excited.

  Archer faked a bumbling hick persona. "We're real sorry. It's just that I'm on leave from the Army and me and my girl here wanted to make the most of our time together, if you know what I mean." He squeezed her against his side and Miranda nearly laughed at his goofy grin. The steel vise of a warning grip on her arm made her think twice.

  Edith's son chuckled and folded his arms. "Didn't Ma just hire you? I doubt this was one of the job requirements."

  "Yes, she did…" Her tone changed from guilty admission to pleading. "Please don't tell her. We're just having a little fun. I promise we'll get out of here." She gave him a wink and a naughty smile, sliding an arm up around Archer's neck again. "You know how it is."

  The man gave her a slow, leering smile. The exchange felt a bit creepy, but mostly harmless. "Sure, lady. I know all about it." He nodded to Archer, who grinned again in mock embarrassment. "Just lock up when you two kids leave."

  Cold air blasted into the shop as the doorbell jangled behind the man's exit. Miranda sighed in relief.

  "You think that was pretty clever, do you?" Miranda felt his heart pound against the thin cotton of her peasant blouse. As if he had held himself in check during those crucial moments. "You could have just gotten us shot, you know that?"

  She smiled and ran a finger down his naked chest, delighting in the feel of his sinuous muscles beneath her caress. "Relax, I just saved your investigation. Now you have a reason to be here."

  Archer scoffed, his eyes narrowed slits of cool anger. "You think this is all some game, inspiration for that book you're supposedly writing."

  Miranda knew it would irk him that she didn't appear sufficiently chastised. She loved it. "I thought you had to play games sometimes to catch a criminal. Didn't they teach you that in training, Special Agent Archer?"

  He cinched his arms tightly around her waist. "Maybe you're the one who needs a lesson."

  Ever the writer, Miranda had a good idea of what she was about to get into. They stared at each other, eye to defiant eye as she reviewed the past scripts of her sexual encounters. Kiss mouth. Fondle breast. Fondle cock. Oral (hopefully). Fuck, fuck, fuck. Done. So far, this encounter had exceeded expectations. After all, she'd already been arrested and outwitted a criminal. Her fantasy life was always richer than her reality ever could be, which is why she took such pleasure in pleasing herself. Now that the handcuffs were on, all bets were off in terms of reality and the usual.

  Besides the interesting details, there was something strange between them, something ethereal and predestined. This same sizzling connection made her feel as if she had little choice about the course of events. That each small movement was supposed to happen. Had to happen.

  "This is some fantasy to you, isn't it? Something zany to put into a silly book?"

  She blushed, genuinely this time, for it seemed he could read her thoughts. Sure, he had belittled her work, which she did not take lightly, but the idea that he could know her mind made her shiver. She wanted nothing more than to escape him now. Good luck, what with your hands cuffed behind his neck. He took the momentary fracture in her defenses as an opportunity to break her. Archer swung her around by the waist, pinning her against the wall. His unsmiling mouth came down hard upon hers, as if he wa
s about to undergo the most serious of tasks.

  The kiss was like a sigh of relief, a dam breaking after relentless pressure. It had been a while and Miranda was hungry. Archer's mouth was firm and insistent as it closed over her upper lip. A warm gush of liquid heat wet her panties when his tongue slipped into her mouth to touch hers. He slid his tip over the side of hers and she relished the slow, sensuous stroke.

  That pacing couldn't last for long, and the tempo quickly built to a frenzy as they battled for dominance over the heated kiss. With lips swollen and wet, they explored each other's mouths like uncharted territories. Miranda lost herself in the kiss until she heard a metallic click from behind Archer's head. He had freed her hands. And she could only guess why. His mouth left hers and she felt suddenly bereft without the connection, left with only the loud, throaty sound of her own gasping breath. He trailed kisses across her cheek and throat, following a slow, delightful path to her hairline. Archer then bit down on her earlobe, holding it firmly between his teeth as he tongued it back and forth. Unable to escape without pain, she silently endured the sweet torture.

  "Fantasies are all right," he whispered into her ear, "in a lonely bedroom…in the darkness…but what if we made them real?"

  The suggestion effectively knocked every coherent thought out of her head. He smelled like pure sex, a fragrance she had noted the moment she'd pulled his shirt over his head. The scent mocked her now, practically begging her to lick every exposed inch of his torso. The handcuffs still hanging from her wrist, Miranda slid her hand down between them and grasped his cock through thick denim. She outlined its tantalizing swell with her palm.

  Archer groaned and Miranda wrapped her free hand around him, grabbing his tight ass to pull him against her. She spread her legs, rubbing herself all over his hardened length. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed, as if he had given himself over to the idea that she had pretty much lost her mind. Miranda agreed, but she could do nothing to help herself except ride the wave of lust to shore.