Annie on the Lam: A Christmas Caper (16 page)

Frustration swept through her. Why had the tone between them changed? He was holding back, pulling away from her.

“You shaved,” she said.

“Yeah. I found a razor in the medicine cabinet. Must've belonged to your aunt's really old boyfriend.”

Or one of her new ones, Annie thought smugly.

“I was thinking,” Joe said as he set the olive jar aside unopened. “Maybe I should take a look at the files now, see if I can spot something you missed.”

“We have plenty of time for that. Harry won't find us here.”

“We shouldn't put it off. We—”

“Did my father say something to scare you away from me?”

His flinch was subtle and quick. “No, why?”

“Before you talked to him, you were more interested in me than in the files.”

“Aren't you ready to get to the bottom of this?”

“Yes, I'm anxious. But I'm anxious to do some other things, too. Such as…” Annie leaned over and whispered in his ear.

Joe's brows shot up. He blinked at her, cleared his throat, lifted a tin of caviar and said, “I've never had caviar.”

A slap of humiliation stung her cheeks. He regretted last night. That's what this was all about. He didn't want her.

Out of nowhere, the memory of the look of longing Lance and the wedding planner had shared, of finding them together only minutes before she and Lance were supposed to become man and wife, rushed back to Annie, bringing insecurities she didn't know she possessed. She had convinced herself that because she hadn't really loved Lance, his betrayal hadn't affected her. But now the hurt feelings and self-doubts she'd suppressed surged over her like a tidal wave, sucking her under.

“Annie,” Joe said with a tinge of nervousness in his tone, “We need to talk.”

She stood abruptly, knocking over the olive jar, embarrassed and disgusted with herself for wearing the revealing robe. Crossing her arms over her breasts, she walked to the dresser and leaned against it, unable to meet her own gaze in the mirror. “You don't need to explain. I misunderstood. After last night, I just—” Her voice caught. She was making an even bigger fool of herself. Annie wished she could shrink, slither beneath the rug like a worm. “I guess I should've paid more attention to what Lance and the wedding planner were trying to tell me.”

“Annie.” Joe was behind her so fast that the touch of his hands on her shoulders startled her. “It's nothing like that. I want you so much I can't breathe.” He pressed his face into her hair. His fingertips brushed her collarbone. “You deserve someone better than me.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Her voice faltered again. “Why is it so hard for everyone to let me decide what's best for me? I'm a full-grown woman. I know what I want.” She lifted her head, met his gaze in the mirror. “I want to be with you, Joe. If you don't want to be with me, say so now and I'll accept it. But if you do…” She blinked at him, took a breath. “If you do, stop questioning it.”

God
, yes, he wanted to be with her.

Joe's conversation with Milford Macy hadn't changed that fact. But it had caused him to take a step back and remember he was here to work a case, not to have his way with the old man's daughter.

Macy's concerns about Annie's safety had also brought back that promise Joe had made to himself after Emma Billings was scared half to death on his watch. The promise he'd broken the minute he laid eyes on Annie.

Yet despite all that, she still made it easy to push promises to the back of his mind, to forget about everything except the feel of her against him, the scent of her hair, the sight of her wide blue eyes staring back at him in the mirror. He wanted her hands on him, her sweet, full mouth kissing him all over. He wanted to see her naked in the light of day.

Joe wasn't sure which one of them led the other to the bed, but that's where he found himself, both of them naked on the warm comforter, surrounded by deep plush pillows, his skin afire and Annie whispering his name. He found himself kissing her slow and deep, drawing it out, found her above him, watching his face as they moved together, her gaze burning into him, his hands skimming over her silken skin.

And then something happened he never expected, emotions he couldn't begin to name crept in without warning, tangling with his physical need, and he was lost…caught up in a mindless twisting cloud of sensation and longing. He felt his self-control slipping, everything moving too fast…an invisible force pushing him close to the edge.

He rolled so that Annie was beneath him now. She moved with him perfectly, driving him mad with her hands and her mouth and her eyes. This time was different somehow. Explosive. Brain-boggling. A dream. The room became more and more hazy until his only focus was the friction and heat of their bodies, the sounds they made, the taste and scent of her skin. Those baffling emotions inside him.

Joe felt it the second she let go, felt the force of her climax as she clung to his shoulders and cried out. And then there was no holding back. His own release was a blazing flash fire of pleasure.

Minutes later, as he lay exhausted on top of her, his face in her hair, his thoughts scattered and lazy, three facts hit him like a triple punch to the gut. He was content. Comfortable. Happy.

Another first. Usually he only wanted up and out after being with a woman, to avoid the awkwardness that inevitably followed. But he didn't want to leave Annie. He wanted to hold her as long as she'd let him. He couldn't get close enough to her. He felt like he'd wither and die if he ever had to let her go.

Stunned by those facts, Joe rolled to one side, stared down into her face. Her eyes were half-closed and she looked drowsy and tousled and irresistible. He reached to touch her, saw that his hand trembled, pulled back.

Whoa.

This wasn't supposed to happen
. Not to him. Not now. He was forty-one years old, for God's sake. He wasn't some kid with his head in the clouds, looking for something that didn't exist. The first time he'd thought he was in love, the time he'd married, that's the way it had been.

But he didn't
think
now. He
knew
.

Whoa.

This wasn't supposed to happen
. Especially not with her. The after-effects of the greatest sex ever were playing games with his mind, that's all. That had to be all there was to what he felt, what he was thinking.

But nothing between him and Annie had ever been like it was supposed to be. Not from the moment she'd jumped into his cab. He was supposed to simply watch her, not protect her, especially not
want
to protect her. Yet a fierce desire to do just that swelled in him now. The thought of anything happening to her, of anyone hurting her, even himself,
especially
himself, made him want to hit the wall, tear it down.

She was supposed to be a spoiled, snooty rich socialite. The kind of shallow woman he couldn't stomach. Instead she was caring and funny, smart and independent. Despite every effort not to, after they quit arguing and had their first real conversation, he had liked her immediately. Not just the way she looked, though he liked that a lot, but
her.
The way her mind worked. Her courage and humor. Even her insecurities and impulsiveness.

And the sex? It was supposed to be “just sex,” not…

“Whoa.” Joe said the word aloud this time, and sat up abruptly.

“Whoa?” Annie shifted, looked at him, blinked. Grabbing a pillow, she bunched it beneath her head.

“That was…” He swallowed and stared at the wall. “Wow.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

When he found the nerve to look into her eyes, Joe saw that they were a little smug. She slid her hand down his back, up to his neck. Afraid she'd see the truth if he looked at her too long, he glanced away. “How about I start a fire and we finish that picnic that never got started?”

Annie's stomach growled. “Does that answer your question?”

 

H
ARRY
L
ANDAU
pressed his palm against the phone's mouthpiece and jerked his head toward his office door. “Beat it, Lacy.”

His sister gave him that wounded puppy look that always made him want to kick her.

“Didn't you hear me? I know you're dumb, but I didn't know you were deaf, too.”

Her lip quivered.

“Now!” he yelled.

Lacy jumped. He could almost imagine a tail between her legs as she turned and scampered from the room.

“Close the door behind you,” he called after her. “Easy. Don't slam it.”

He moved his hand away from the phone's mouthpiece and talked into it. “Brady's in Pinesborough. She's with him.”

“Good. That's not far from where I am. How'd you find them?”

“Never mind.” Harry drummed his fingers on the desk. “How long will it take you to get there?”

“An hour, maybe less. Me and Prine will check out of the motel, then—”

“You've been sleeping?” Harry cursed, then clamped his jaw together hard. Having to rely on Willis and his idiot partner was playing hell with his blood pressure. He couldn't afford it any more than he could afford for his uncle to find out about this slipup. The doc had warned him if he didn't keep his temper in check he might bust a vein. “If you'd stayed after them, we might be drinking Bloody Marys and having a good laugh about all this right now.”

“Cut us some slack, Landau. We were in the middle of a whiteout. The roads were slick as snot. Took us a good two hours just to go thirty miles.”

Harry took deep breaths and counted to ten. “I don't know where they're staying, but you shouldn't have any trouble finding out. Pinesborough doesn't sound like a metropolis.”

“Don't worry. We'll find them.”

“Don't waste time doing it, either. I want that briefcase back. And I want you to see to it that Anne Macy and her new boyfriend have an unfortunate accident. You hear what I'm saying?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Brady's not just helping her because she's got a hot little body and a pretty face. Knowing what I do now about his history, you can bet he smells a rat and the odor's a little too familiar. It won't take him long to sniff his way to the truth.”

And if that happened, Harry would wish he'd been born into another family.

 

“O
PEN WIDE
.” Annie popped a caviar-topped cracker into Joe's mouth and watched him chew. “Well, what do you think?”

He swallowed, licked his lips. “I prefer sardines. What can I say? Poor schmucks have poor taste.” He slanted her a sly look and added, “Except in women.”

They had moved the picnic to the center of the bed where it lay spread out between them.

“I feel like a sneaky sixteen-year-old girl sitting here stark naked in my aunt's house with a guy.”

“You did this sort of thing a lot when you were sixteen, did you?”

“Hardly. I was a good girl. But if I'd known how fun it is being a naughty girl…” She wiggled her brows.

“You are definitely a naughty girl now. Naughty—” he leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder. “And very, very nice.”

Annie giggled like a sixteen-year-old, too. A shiver skipped through her. She was nuts about him. Gaw-gaw, as her Aunt Tess would say. When he stopped questioning his desires and followed them, he did it with gusto. And after they'd made love, just for a moment, she'd seen a flicker of something in his eyes, something that startled her. She thought she recognized it, but she was too afraid to form the word, even in her mind. Too afraid to hope. Too afraid of saying the wrong thing again.

So she changed the subject.

“Speaking of naughty,” she said, “What are we going to do about Harry?”

“Where's the briefcase?”

She nodded toward the closet. “In there.”

He climbed off the bed and walked to the closet, then brought the briefcase back.

Annie took it when he slid it across the bed. She popped the latches and pulled out a stack of folders. When she reached the bottom of the case, her hand stilled. “What's this?” She frowned. “I didn't feel this before.”

Joe leaned in to look. “What is it?”

“It feels like a lighter…behind the case's lining.” She looked closer, noticed a barely discernible small line of stitching along the edge that didn't match the rest. “Look, someone has sewn up a tear here.”

Reaching over the side of the bed, Joe scooped his jeans off the floor and retrieved a pocket knife from his pocket. He pulled out a blade and ripped into the briefcase lining. “It's a computer flash drive.” He held up the plastic cylinder for her to see. “Maybe this will explain why Landau's so desperate to get this case back. Does your aunt have a computer here?”

“I don't know. If she does, it's probably in the room at the end of the hallway. She used to have it set up as a sort of combination office and library.”

“Let's go.” Joe grabbed up his pants again.

Annie snatched them from his hand. “Not necessary. I'm the only one looking and I do love the sight of you in the buff.” She wiggled her brows. “You have a very cute butt, Brady.”

“And I'm going to freeze it off if I don't cover it up. It's five degrees outside.”

In a Mae West voice, she said, “Honey, if you get too cold, let me know and Annie'll warm you right up.”

Shaking his head as he started from the room, Joe said, “Baby, you've got the naughty thing down to a fine art.”

Tess's makeshift office was really a small converted storage room with a desk in one corner and a computer on top of it.

“That's not a computer,” Joe said, “That's a dinosaur.”

“Aunt Tess isn't exactly high-tech.”

He crossed to the desk, searched a slot for the flash drive.

“We're out of luck. It's too old a machine. It only takes floppy disks.”

“Now what?” Annie asked.

“You know anyone in town with a computer we could use?”

“I don't come here often enough to know anybody. I think there's a public library, though. Pinesborough is pretty small. You think the library would have computers?”

“There's one way to find out.” Joe started out of the office. “Let's get dressed. Guess I'm not as naughty as you. I draw the line at going into town in my birthday suit.”

 

T
HEY DROVE ALONG
a desolate road that wound through tall trees with icicles dripping from the branches, past frosted meadows where deer lifted their heads to watch them pass. Evergreens dotted color across the canvas of white and tan and tarnished silver.

Joe rounded a bend. A farmhouse, tucked cozy and warm into the rolling hillside, peeked back at them through glowing windows. He could count on one hand the number of times in his life that he'd been in the country. New York City's rapid pulse set the pace for his heartbeat. But as he drove through the serene countryside with Annie beside him, he felt the beat slowing and an unfamiliar yet welcome sense of peace seeping into his bones, weaving through him like the frozen stream that curled like a silver ribbon through the fluffy white blanket of snow alongside the road.

The village of Pinesborough looked as if it had frozen a hundred years ago and never thawed, a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. Twinkling white, green and red Christmas lights brightened the overcast morning. Strings of them hung in the trees along the streets, trimmed the rafters of quaint old buildings, surrounded every window. Bundled up in hats and coats and gloves, a group of small boys carried round plastic sleds across a small park, their boots trailing footprints behind them.