Midnight Crystal (14 page)

They both fell silent again, gazing into the fire. Marlowe felt the pull of what she knew would be a deep but troubled sleep. She fought it with a little pulse of psi. That proved to be a dangerous move. When the small burst of energy flashed through her, it became impossible to ignore the electricity in the atmosphere. Adam was close; very close.

“Moving right along,” he said softly.

“Right. Now that Vickie is okay, we need to get serious about saving the underworld. I spent today putting out a lot of feelers to my contacts in the antiquities community. Tomorrow I should get some response.”

“I’ve already tried the dealers,” he said. “Waste of time. Got zip.”

“I doubt very much that you have the kind of connections that J&J does, especially in the underground market. We’ve been collecting paranormal artifacts for generations. There’s an art to it. When Jones & Jones lets it be known that it is looking for a particular relic, seldom-seen dealers who work the very bottom depths of the black market come to the surface.”

“Why is that?”

“For one thing, we pay well, no questions asked.”

“Always an asset in business,” he said.

“But in addition, we’re what you might call specialists. We go after the more bizarre items, artifacts that have been infused with a lot of weird psi. Not a lot of collectors in that market.”

“Probably because those kinds of relics aren’t pleasant to have around.”

“People get nervous in the vicinity of powerful relics,” she agreed, “even people who don’t think they have any real talent. They pick up the disturbing vibes. Dealers who work the market that handles those kinds of artifacts are as odd as the relics, trust me. Very low-profile. They tend to be not only secretive but extremely paranoid. It takes years, sometimes generations, to build up business relationships in that world. Arcane has those kinds of connections.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

There was more silence. The energy level was not going down. If anything, the atmosphere was getting hotter, and the heat had nothing to do with the fireplace. Marlowe tapped her finger against the cushion beside her left thigh and wondered in a dreamy sort of way how Adam would react if she threw herself on top of him and started tearing off his clothes.

Bad idea. They were working a case. Firing up a sexual relationship at this stage would not be wise. In an effort to break the spell, she stirred and made a show of looking at her watch.

“It’s getting late,” she said.

“I should go,” he said.

She turned her head to look at him, intending to say something polite in the way of agreement. But he was right there, so close, watching her. His eyes burned.

The smoldering fire between them flashed into high-rez flames. Adam wrapped one hand around the nape of her neck. His mouth closed over hers. And then she was burning, too.

HE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR THIS TO HAPPEN SINCE THE moment he had met her, Adam thought. He had known it was only a matter of time. And now the time had come. He was thrilled. There was no other word for it. Thrilled in a way that was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Marlowe wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, fiercely. The atmosphere in the firelit room got hotter.

She managed to tear her mouth free from his for a few seconds, sucking in a breath.

“Do you think we’re going to regret this?” she asked.

“I’m not.” He had never said anything with more conviction, he thought.

“Guess we’re on the same page here, then,” she whispered.

“A joint executive decision.”

He eased her down onto her back and sprawled heavily on top of her. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. His whole body felt tight and hard. He succeeded in dragging the black silk turtleneck off over her head and went to work removing her bra.

He looked down at her breasts, chills of wonder and excitement sweeping through him. The gentle curves fit perfectly into his hand, as if she had been made for him. When he lowered his mouth to one tight nipple, she twisted beneath him. He felt her nails dig into the muscles of his back.

She got his shirt partway open and pushed her hands inside. He reached down and tugged her skirt up to her waist. Her panties were already damp. The scent of her arousal was more intoxicating than the Amber Dew, a bigger rush than alien psi.

He groaned against her breast. “You’re wet.”

She found him through the fabric of his trousers. “You’re hard.”

“Talk about coincidence.”

“We at J&J believe there are no coincidences.”

“You may be right.”

He managed to free himself long enough to sit up on the side of the sofa. He yanked off his low boots. With an effort, he made it to his feet and got rid of his trousers and briefs. He didn’t bother to remove his shirt. He just wanted to get back to Marlowe as quickly as possible. The urgency sweeping through him ignited all of his senses.

She opened her arms for him. He settled between her legs and stroked her small furnace. She raised one knee and reached for him with one hand. When her fingers closed around him, it took everything he had not to climax then and there. But he forced himself to pull back from the brink. He needed to be inside her.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice very tight. Her fingers sank into his shoulders, pulling him closer.
“Now.”

The feminine command was more powerful than any siren song. He pushed himself deep into her moist, snug channel. She clenched around him. He’d had some good sex in his life, he thought. But he’d never experienced anything like this.

The energy level in the room climbed even higher. He could have sworn that both of their auras were going to combust. When Marlowe screamed softly and convulsed beneath him, he opened his eyes to watch her face in the moment of release.

She was incredible.

She was his.

He could not wait any longer. His climax stormed through him in racking waves.

 

 

SOMETIME LATER, WHEN HIS BREATHING AND PULSE had slowed to normal, he untangled himself from Marlowe’s warm body and looked down at her again.

She was sound asleep.

 

 

MARLOWE AWOKE TO THE LIGHT OF A GREEN-TINGED dawn. The glow of the ancient Dead City wall was fading rapidly in the first pale rays of the sun. She was breathing too quickly. Her pulse was racing. Gibson crowded close, mumbling anxiously, both sets of eyes wide-open. She knew it was a sure sign that he was concerned.

“It’s okay,” she said. She sat up cautiously and cradled his small, furry body close. “Just the usual aftermath crap. Been here before. Thanks for the company.”

Reassured, he closed his hunting eyes and chortled a morning greeting, hopped out of her arms, and tumbled off the bed. He headed for the kitchen.

Memories of the passionate encounter on the couch came back in a torrent, followed by hot-and-cold chills. She looked down and noticed that she was wearing her nightgown. She was quite sure that she had not put it on all by herself. In fact, she had no recollection of much of anything after the lovemaking until the dream had awakened her.

“And they say it’s men who go to sleep afterward,” she announced to the room at large.

Another alarming thought jolted her senses. Where had Adam slept? Where
was
Adam, come to that?

She glanced uneasily at the pillow beside her. There was no way he could have spent the night with her. She wouldn’t have slept a wink. But, dear heaven, what if he had? What if she had actually slept with him?”

The pillow was still smooth and pristine.

She did not know whether to be hugely relieved or terribly disappointed. Of course Adam hadn’t spent the night in her bed. That was impossible. If he had slept next to her, she would not have been able to sleep at all, even in her exhausted state. But he had put her to bed after she had more or less passed out on him. How embarrassing.

A tiny frisson of energy whispered through her. She shivered, recognizing her Jones intuition. Something had happened between Adam and herself last night, something more than an episode of passion. She had the eerie, deeply unsettling feeling that some kind of bond had been established. Adam was different from the other men she had known. When the end came, she was not going to be able to walk away as easily as she always had in the past. This was not good, she thought.

But it had never happened quite like that, she thought. Not to her.

She climbed out of bed, found her robe, and wandered into the kitchen to put the water on for tea. The note was on the kitchen counter. She had never seen Adam’s handwriting, but she was pretty sure she would have known it anywhere. Besides, his dreamprints were all over the paper.

She crumpled the note and looked at Gibson, who was on top of the refrigerator, awaiting breakfast.

“What do you know?” she said. “Looks like Adam Winters is the perfect date for me. Always gone by dawn.”

But for some reason that did nothing to lift her spirits. She did not want Adam to be the perfect date, she realized. She wanted something more. She wanted him to be Mr. Right.

She rezzed up the computer while she waited for the tea water to boil. The message from Tully popped up instantly.

“I was right. Tully found the lamp.”

She switched off the tea water, opened the refrigerator long enough to grab a chunk of cheese and some bread for Gibson, and ran for the shower. She didn’t need the caffeine now.

A short time later she emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet, and pulled on a pair of jeans, a black turtleneck, and biker boots. She grabbed her leather jacket and headed downstairs to the parking garage with Gibson tucked under one arm.

“Could be just another fake,” she told Gibson, who was still munching cheese. “But Tully is the best in the business when it comes to this kind of thing.”

Gibson downed the last of the cheese and chortled. She dumped him into the saddlebag, rezzed Dream, and drove out of the garage.