Slow Hands (5 page)

No wonder she'd changed her mind and agreed to help the FBI. She'd do anything to protect her grandfather.

Ostman had played Alec for a fool.

"Your grandfather's going to be just fine," Alec reassured. He needed to change the subject again. Yeah, he and Keira had a lot to discuss, but not until he spoke with Ostman.

He dropped a hand to her hip, pulling her closer as he swung left, then right, fast enough to keep her off-balance. But she didn't miss a step.

"You remember the moves?" he said.

Keira pretended not to hear. She remembered more than she wanted to. Like what a great dancer Alec was. And exactly how tall six-foot-two was; how perfectly her body pressed against his.
How it felt to be in his arms.

She fought to reclaim some space, but he parried, dipping her back on his arm. She watched as his eyes drifted to her breasts.

She knew with his height he could probably see clear to her navel. Never mind the fact she was wearing a platform bra that thrust her already full breasts unnaturally high. Or that she'd dusted her cleavage with body glitter. Or that she'd remembered Alec was a breast man.

At the time, she'd wanted to go straight for his jugular. The one between his legs. She had hoped to entice him, tease him, tempt him. Build up his hopes and dash them.

Except. . . now it suddenly lost appeal. It had never been about the sex.

"Quit staring, Alec," she snapped, straightening. "It's tacky."

"So I'm tacky. Can't help it. It's the dress." He shook his head. "Actually, it's the woman in the dress."

Keira met his gaze. In the dim light his eyes were so dark, so dilated, they appeared totally black. Bottomless. They made promises, hinted at secrets.

The memories came out of nowhere, nearly suffocating her.

She recalled the magic. The heat. The fire. The way he kissed, the way he touched. Alec had been a gifted lover. Wild, daring, demanding. He'd branded her with possessiveness. Spoiled her with tenderness. And so much more.

Damn him for making her remember.

She looked away, torn but resolute.

Oh, she was tempted.

The devil almost had her soul.

Except what had passed between them was beyond talk. It required yelling, screaming, glass breaking.

Once upon a time, she'd been young and stupid and foolish at love. Alec had been a trusted friend. Closer than Franny even. Keira had thought the earth revolved around him. She had entrusted him with her body, mind, and soul. Which made his betrayal all the worse.

She learned the hard way you didn't actually die from a broken heart. It just felt like you would.

And when it was all said and done, nothing changed. It ended ten years ago. She'd chalked it up to experience, got on with her life.

So had he.

Yes, she'd been the injured party, but dissecting it at this point felt. . . futile.

Acknowledging that left her feeling a little freer. And a little sadder.

Alec was here doing a job. Period. When it was done, he'd leave. Again.
But this time without her heart.

"About us," he began. "We need to talk."

"It's too late to talk, Alec. Just let it go."

The song ended, and Scarlet Chambeau materialized at Alec's side. Wearing his tie. She cast an evil look at Keira.

"Dibs on last dance." As if on cue, Scarlet tilted forward, fell into Alec's arms, forcing Keira back. "Wow. What's in the punch?"

Alec held Scarlet upright. "How much have you had?"

"Four or five. You'll have to drive me home, Alec. After breakfast?" Scarlet turned to Keira. "You'll excuse us, won't you? We want to be alone."

Alone? Keira started to tell Scarlet to take a flying leap. Without Alec. With Alec.

Shit, she'd had too much to drink herself.

Not enough.

Keira backed away, hands up, palms out. "Have at it, Scarlet. Good-bye, Alec."

Keira left the dance floor, stopping by Franny's table to tell her friend good night. Then she walked out of the gym alone and didn't look back.

Something she should have done ten years ago.

Once outside the gym, Keira realized she'd given her car keys to Darryl for safekeeping.
Friends don't let friends drive drunk.
Damn it! So much for her grand exit.

The last thing she wanted to do was go back into the gym and see Alec again. With Scarlet.

Or worse, be standing outside when they came out. And she had no doubt they would leave together. It was clear Scarlet had set her cap for Alec.

Sheesh! She was pathetic. Why in the hell did she care what either of them thought? Scarlet was a bitch. Alec was a rat bastard. A match made in heaven.

She looked down the street, hiccuping. Wonderful. She hated hiccups.

With a sigh, she took off walking, reminding herself it really wasn't far. And her pride was at stake. If pride goeth before a fall, she wanted to be home before hers hit the ground.

But what should have been a twenty-minute stroll turned into a thirty-minute hike.

By the time she reached her apartment building downtown, she was miserable. The four-inch heels had her arches stretched to the verge of collapse. Not to mention that in the sticky, eighty-plus-degree weather, the glittery fabric of the tight dress rubbed her raw.

Her apartment building was actually an old, recently renovated hotel. The rooms were spacious, with high ceilings and gobs of ornate molding. Keira's apartment was on the third floor, in the back. Very private.

Limping, but pride intact, she retrieved the hidden key from the plant stand on the landing and let herself in.

She stood in the dark doorway, listening to the faint, welcoming hum of the air-conditioning. The blessedly cold air revived her alcohol buzz.

First things first.

Kicking her front door shut behind her, she reached around and unzipped the dress while still in her foyer. She shimmied, letting the damp dress fall to the floor on a blissful sigh.

Stepping free of the fabric puddle, she closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of cool air against her chafed skin.

She quickly opened her eyes, nearly losing her balance as the room spun.

Ah, the price for liquid courage. She'd had way too much to drink and would pay for it tomorrow.

Not bothering to turn on a light, she carefully snagged the dress with one hand and tossed it toward a dining room chair so she'd remember to drop it off at the dry cleaners in the morning.

Reaching around to wrestle with the clasp on the strapless bra, she headed unsteadily toward the bedroom. Her feet throbbed. As soon as she sat down the shoes were coming off, then—

She stopped, stumbling as her eyes adjusted to the dark. A slight movement through the open bedroom door caught her eye.

Then she heard a soft noise. A different sort of chill ran up her spine, paralyzing her.

Someone was in her apartment.

Chapter Three

Keira
saw a second glimmer of movement in the darkness beyond her bedroom door. She took a careful step backward, then another, retreating.

A glance at the phone on the kitchen wall sent her courage south. The cradle was empty. God only knew where she'd left the cordless. In the bedroom? Bathroom? And her cell phone was in her truck at Franny's.

Only a sliver of ambient light filtered in the living room windows, leaving most of the apartment steeped in shadow.

She grabbed the heavy, lead crystal vase from the kitchen counter, holding it aloft in one hand as she continued backing away. Without a phone to call for help, she'd have to run to a neighbor's apartment.

She glanced down at her scanty underwear, then looked helplessly at where she'd tossed the dress: on the far side of the dining room table, close to the bedroom door.

Another slip of sound, all the spookier for being
hushed,
drifted across the silence, electrifying the fine hairs at her nape. She quickened her retreat. No friggin' way she'd go back after the dress now.

When she reached the front door, she eased it open and backed halfway out into the hall.

Feeling braver with an escape route, she yelled, "Come on out! I know you're in there!"

"Who's in there?"

Keira shrieked.

Alec caught the vase with one hand as he pulled her the rest of the way out into the hall and thrust her against the wall.

His eyes dropped, following his jaw to the floor.

Holy shit.

He'd been wrong about the teddy. She wore a strapless bra, a microscopic bikini, thigh-high nylons, and the sex-goddess heels. All in black. With tiny, strategically located satin bows. And a mile of wild red curls.

"What in the hell are you doing out here dressed like that?" he growled.

"You pulled me out here!" She lifted her chin, indignant. "And someone's in my apartment."

Alec straightened, reflexes alert. A gun appeared in his hand as he pressed a finger to his lips.

"Stay here." Then he disappeared inside.

Keira listened intently, heart pounding. Not a sound came from her apartment. Had Alec walked into danger? Should she go for help?

She crept closer to the open doorway, careful to stay against the wall.

She screamed as Alec suddenly rounded the opening, nearly knocking her down. His hand clapped over her mouth, silencing her as he dragged her against him.

"Shhh. It's okay. They're gone."

As soon as he dropped his hand, she glared at him. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"Why were you right next to the door? I told you to stay back."

"I was worried— Oh no!" A neighbor's door creaked open behind Alec.

Hugging her close, Alec totally concealed her body with his. The cold metal buckle of his belt bit into her abdomen.

Keira felt his fingers splay across the small of her back.
Across bare skin.
His nails grazed her flesh as he pressed her flat, to his chest. She looked up, whispered a swear word.

Alec raised an eyebrow. "Stay close against me, and he won't see you," he whispered back.

Careful to remain shielded, Keira peeked only her head around Alec. "Hi, Mr. Marks. Sorry if I bothered you. Just saying good night."

Her neighbor looked at Alec's back disapprovingly and nodded.

As soon as his door closed, Keira dashed inside her apartment.

Alec followed, cell phone in hand. "Don't go too far. I'm calling the sheriff." "The sheriff?"

"Somebody definitely broke in, but they were gone by the time I got there."

"What?" Keira headed straight for her bedroom.

Alec stopped her at the doorway, preventing her from entering as he flipped the light switch.

She gasped. Her bedroom wasn't exactly vandalized... yet someone had rifled through several of her drawers.

Actually, it appeared they'd only made it through the top two drawers. Brightly colored lingerie—panties, camisoles, nighties—was strewn haphazardly about.

She looked to where the drapes flapped in the night air. The window was wide-open, affording a perfect view of the iron fire escape outside. Obviously, her intruder had left the same way he came.

Keira marched over, slammed the window. When she found out who did this—

Alec's arm looped around her waist as he literally lifted her away from the window. "Don't touch anything. You'll compromise the crime scene."

"Crime scene?" Keira moved back, teetering unsteadily on her feet. "Don't you dare call the sheriff. This is a prank, Alec. It's got
high school
written all over it"

"A prank?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow morning one of my bras will be flying on a flagpole downtown. They'll put out an APB for the owner."

Alec looked unconvinced. "You sure nothing's missing? Jewelry? Cash?"

Keira glanced at the room. Her stereo and VCR were untouched. And the most valuable piece of jewelry she owned—a gold necklace her grandfather had given her—was at Franny's with her work clothes.

"I don't keep cash here." She waved her hand toward the dresser. "And offhand, I probably couldn't even tell you if any underwear was actually missing."

He shook his head. "How often does this happen?"

"Not often. Believe me, Freedom still has the most bored sheriff's department in the state. If it weren't for the high school kids cutting up on Friday nights,
rigor mortis
would set in."

"I still don't like it." Alec knew most people in Freedom still left their houses unlocked.
But most people didn't have to worry about Ian Griggs returning.

He pointed to the window's lever-type lock. "There's part of the problem. Slip a knife between the panes, pop the latch, and you're in. Have those replaced. And keep 'em locked."

The authoritative tone in his voice irritated her. She straightened, riled. "Don't think you can walk in here and tell me what to do, Mr. FBI."

FBI? Alec's jaw tightened at the insult. He was ATF, damn it.

Either Keira had misunderstood Miles Ostman's explanation and thought Alec was FBI... or Ostman had purposely misled her and didn't mention this was a joint investigation. Given the fact Keira's grandfather actively produced moon
s
hine,
he'd bet on the latter.

He needed to tread carefully until he knew exactly
what
Ostman had told Keira. And perhaps more important—what he
hadn't
told her.

Cementing a solid cover was Alec's first objective. He knew Keira hadn't wanted to cooperate to begin with. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize her and blow this assignment before it even got started.

Alec took every job seriously, had a reputation for flawless execution. He wouldn't allow personal issues to interfere.

He met her stare, saw the stubborn set of her chin. He hadn't missed the slight wobble of her step earlier. Nor her slurred words. He'd known she'd over imbibed. But he hadn't realized how badly until just now.

She was snockered. Whoever doctored the punch must have used pure grain alcohol. Maybe even some moonshine.

Now what did he do? Keep arguing? Or give up?

His eyes dipped lower, briefly. Painfully.

Crossing the room, he grabbed a black satin robe off the floor and thrust it at her. "Okay, the half-naked lady wins the first round."

For the second time that night, Keira remembered she wasn't dressed. Damn the man for distracting her.

She snatched the robe and stuffed her arms through the openings as she stalked out of the bedroom.

Pausing in the dining room, she looped the sash, rocking lightly. As the adrenaline rush subsided, the alcohol in her bloodstream spiked upward again, reminding her that sobriety gave him the edge.

It was still her apartment, however. She cleared her throat. "You can leave now."

Alec moved closer. "Don't I get a kiss or something for rescuing you?"

She frowned. "Can the
or something
be a sharp stick in the eye?"

He grinned. "No."

"Rats. Besides, you didn't rescue me. I had the situation totally under control."

"Right. Crystal vase. Sexy underwear. I'd have surrendered."

Keira shrugged, nearly toppled. "They were gone, weren't they?"

Alec caught her chin, raised it. "Admit it. You were scared."

She pulled away, her skin tingling from his touch. "There's a world of difference between fear and surprise. You caught me off guard, sneaking up behind me."

"I should have let old man Marks see you. Next time I won't be so neighborly."

Keira shifted from one high heel to the other, unsteady. "What do you mean, neighborly?"

He tapped his forehead like he'd just remembered something. "Didn't I tell you? I rented the apartment next door. We share the fire escape."

Keira's gaze shot back toward her bedroom. The fire escape served as her private balcony. A perfect place to sunbathe, to think, to relax. She had enjoyed not having to share it, had hoped the other apartment would remain vacant.

"If you think that makes me happy, Alec, you're wrong."

"Still holding a grudge, huh?"

"A grudge?"

He ducked as she took a swing.

"Damn you! I want you out!" She took another swing, tipping precariously.

Alec knew she was mad. Knew she had a right to be. Yeah, he'd purposely provoked her. The ice between them had to be shattered, and Keira's temper was the perfect tool for it. At some point, they needed to deal with their past issues in depth.
When she was sober.

He grasped her wrists, holding her steady as she danced around, straggling to regain her footing. The shoes, sexy as they were, had to go before she broke her neck.

Moving quickly, he swung her up in his arms and carried her to the living room sofa, where he sat down with her.

Outraged, she scooted across the cushions, nearly falling off the edge. He grabbed her legs, and tugged her back in place, thwarting her escape.

Holding her left ankle, he unbuckled her shoe. Snagging her other foot, he removed that one as well.

"Better?" he asked.

Her first instinct was to deny it. Except. . . she grimaced. It did feel better. Keira wore steel-toed boots most days, not four-inch spikes. The soles of her feet were on fire, especially after the long walk home.

Then she remembered the reason she'd walked home and scowled at him. "I thought you were having breakfast with Scarlet."

Alec started to remind her—as part of his cover—the two of them were supposed to be playing long-lost lovers. Except he had a funny feeling Ostman probably hadn't explained that aspect either.

"Scarlet's sleeping off the punch." Actually, Scarlet had passed out in his car, and he'd carried her inside, left her on her couch. "Same thing you should be doing."

Keira squared her shoulders. "Are you insinuating I can't handle my liquor?"

Alec met her gaze. The makeup made her eyes look exotic. Smoky. And they snapped with green fire. His insides quaked. He was the one that couldn't handle it.

"You could handle anything, Keira. I always admired that."

She bit back a denial. He hadn't been around to see how she'd
handled
his leaving ten years ago. The aftermath had been disastrous.