Strip Search (31 page)

"Could you sit down?" Zack rolled his eyes. "You're making the rest of us nervous."

Mark zipped a glare at Zack, who was tapping his foot on the yellowed linoleum. Bocelli, on the other hand, lounged in his chair with an arm draped across the one beside him. A smile flirted at one comer of his mouth. Yeah, he looked stressed, all right.

Before Mark could tell Zack to take a flying leap, Dr. Halstar and Lucia reappeared. She was pale and teary, but wearing a tremulous smile that tugged at his heart.

The doctor motioned at Mark to follow, and he fell in step beside him.

"Lucia tells me you saved Nicki's life."

"I just happened to show up in time." Mark shrugged.

"Lucky, indeed. She's a pretty girl. Very pretty."

"She's taken," he growled.

Mark stopped, stunned by his own assertion. Nicki wasn't his. Somewhere in his head, he knew he couldn't afford to think of her as anything more than a suspect, not while he was investigating her, not when he suspected her of felony behavior. Not when there was any chance he'd be helping to ship her off to prison.

But tonight, when her life had hung in the balance, when his heart had all but stopped as he carried out of her gas-riddled apartment ... none of that mattered.

The doctor laughed. "I figured by the way she called for you that you weren't her brother or a gay best friend."

Doing his best to keep his scowl to himself, Mark followed Dr. Halstar down a series of twisting corridors, through a few double doors, up a story in the elevator.

Finally, they reached Nicki's room. Mark charged in with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. Then stopped dead when he saw her lying there, eyes half open, still pale, tubes sticking out of everywhere. The heart monitor beeped in the background. The IV dripped into her right arm. The sight hit him like a barreling semi to his abdomen.

"I'm alive," she croaked. "So you can stop scowling."

He nodded, feeling his throat tighten. "For a while, we wondered, baby. You okay?"

Sinking down into the chair beside her bed, he reached for her hand, then thought better of it.

"I won't break," she assured him and fitted her hand in his.

He held on tight. "How do you feel?"

"Other than wishing for a whole bottle of aspirin to make my head stop hurting? I'm fine."

He squeezed her fingers in his palm, relishing the warmth and life pulsing under her skin. "What happened?"

"Don't know. I worked in the office when I got up, then went to the gym."

She took a deep breath and wheezed. Mark flinched.

But she went on. "I returned, and Lucia came over for lunch. Then Zack dropped by to talk. I took a shower, laid down. Felt really sleepy."

Nicki had run out of breath, and Mark couldn't stand to hear her tax herself anymore.

"Rest," he ordered.

A tired smile flitted across her face. "Thanks again. My hero."

Frowning, Mark let go of her hand. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt jumbled and torn. Too weak to resist her, too uncertain about her innocence, too committed to ending the criminal behavior that shattered the life he'd once led in Florida to give up investigating her, Mark had no damn idea what to do next.

T
hree long days later, Mark didn't know whether to thank

God that Nicki was back home safely or kick himself for caring so damned much.

Oblivious to his dilemma, Nicki sat propped up in her bed with a bottle of flavored water in one hand, a romance novel in the other.

"Oh," she smiled and brushed an errant strand of inky hair from her face. "Listen to this: 'She raised her slender hips to his every savage thrust, her eyes wide with astonished pleasure as his engorged wand of passion parted her womanly folds relentlessly."' She laughed, and through it continued with, "Desire swirled in her belly as she clasped her long, slender legs around his muscular hips, capturing him deep inside her. Her fingernails raked the strong muscles of his broad back and shoulders. Whimpers of pleasure and frustration escaped her cupid's bow mouth as she climbed ever closer to achieving a woman's pleasure and--"

"Why are you reading this?" Mark asked, frowning.

She'd clipped her hair in a haphazard twist that left skeins of the dark silk caressing the back of her neck. Even with a scrubbed face and simple striped cotton pajama pants and a tank top, Mark couldn't escape the fact she was one of the most beautiful women he knew. And one of the most interesting and vivacious. She lit up from the inside, face glowing with equal parts intelligence, moxie, and sex appeal.

Mark hated how much he wanted her at this moment--at every moment, if he was honest. But it didn't surprise him.

Nicki shrugged. "Bed rest doesn't provide enough mischief. If the doctors won't let me out of bed tonight and you claim you're too busy fixing my books to be in bed with me, well ... A girl has to get her kicks somewhere."

Her smile teased. Mark didn't smile back.

Nicki had to bring up the subject guaranteed to confuse the hell out of him--her books. How could she flash that eye-catching grin if she was involved up to those pretty blue eyes in felony money laundering? It seemed impossible ... but Tiffany had taken him on a similar ride. He knew all too well it was possible.

Shaking his head, he wished it hadn't occurred to him to check her electronic banking and accounting records while she'd been in the hospital. But he'd hoped--prayed, even--that some spark of activity while she was clearly laid up and unable to see to that "business" would at least hint that she wasn't involved. If she had cut Bocelli loose from the operation, as he suspected, and someone else started moving money in her absence, that would say something about Nicki's lack of involvement, maybe even her innocence.

Instead, all records had been more silent than a roomful of monks. Money had been transferred in, and none of the accounting records or real estate transactions had been updated--a definite departure from the previous behavior, where frequent updates had been the norm.

From that, Mark could only conclude that the operation was waiting on Nicki to proceed.

And she was guilty as hell.

"Mark?" Nicki folded her purple prose onto her lap and stared at him.

He forced a smile. "Sorry. I'm tired. I've had a lot on my mind."

"Between your sister and my terrible accounting records and the gas line accident, you've been hopping. Have you talked to Kerry today? Is she all right?"

He wondered why it mattered to her. "She's fine. Bed rest is doing her a lot of good. So is laying off the ice cream."

"I'm glad she and the baby are going be all right. Honestly, when you got that phone call, you turned twenty shades of pale." Nicki grabbed his hand and squeezed. "I'm glad you got to see her."

Mark extracted his hand and settled the blankets around her. "What about you? How do you feel?"

"Much better today. I'm not tired anymore. I have my appetite back. My skull-piercing headache is gone. Must be all this wonderful care I'm getting." She shot him a warm smile, which Mark did his best to ignore.

"Lucia informed me that taking care of you is my job, especially while she's gone to the airport to pick up her friend Ashley."

Her smile wobbled for a moment, then righted itself. "They'll have a nice time together. They've been friends since college. Because college for Lucia started at fourteen, it was hard for her to find friends, but Ashley has been one of the best. I think she kept Lucia from drowning in academia and made my brilliant sister remember that she was still a young woman. I'll always be grateful to Ashley for that."

Mark peered at Nicki, doing his best not to frown. Could a woman care so much about the people in her life, then use others as if they had no meaning or value? With no concrete proof to convict Nicki, no way to absolve her, a slow burn of frustration flared in his gut. Before he said something stupid, something revealing, he rose from the edge of the bed and walked to the window.

"They'll have fun," he said absently, looking at dusk settling over the tourist-drenched street below.

"Mark? Is something wrong?"

The better question was, was anything right? At the moment, he couldn't see it.

"I had a repairman replace the broken hose to your stove while you slept yesterday," he answered. "The gas leak shouldn't happen again. He said you need to be careful not to move the stove too much, particularly not close to the wall. That's an easy way to break those hoses."

"I've cleaned behind the stove before without problems. Guess I didn't do well this time, I'll be more careful in the future."

Sheets rustled, and a moment later Mark felt Nicki at his back. He stiffened as she wrapped her hands around his shoulders and placed a soft kiss on his back. Her lips burned him, even through his shirt, through the armor he fought to trap his desire in.

"Thank you--again. You came to my rescue once more."

"I would have done it for anyone in that situation." He shrugged, turning to face her.

"I know you would. That's you."

Her smile was so genuine and lit with warmth, Mark nearly staggered. How could she seem so caring when she could be so dangerous?

"If you hadn't come to my door when you had and carried me outside ... I wouldn't be here to tell you how much I appreciate you," she murmured.

Mark nodded. Yeah, if he hadn't come by ... He could barely think about the consequences. In the moments he'd seen her pale and limp, heart beating too fast, he'd been more than shaken. The weight of fear had damn near crushed his chest like a two-ton block.

How much would it hurt if he had to put her behind bars?

He wrapped gentle fingers around her wrists, removing her hands from him. He couldn't stand her soft touch, wondering if it was a lie. She might appreciate his rescuing her, but she could still be using him to tidy up her false books so that they'd look nice and legal if the FBI or IRS came sniffing around. And she might be using his desire for her to keep him from the truth about her accounting. Why? Who knew? If she got caught, would she claim the manipulation of the books--and the money laundering--were all his doing and throw him under the bus?

Despite her dislike for Precious Moments dolls, was she as guilty as she appeared and, in the end, just like Tiffany?

Or was she a victim of something sinister?

Releasing her wrist, he stepped around her. "You should get back in bed."

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Come back to bed with me. I missed you."

Mark did his best to shut down, shut her out. Pain seeped in around the edges anyway, mixed with searing desire. He still wanted her, still loved her.

Damn, he was a stupid bastard. Maybe it wasn't that he was attracted to bad women as much as to wounded doves, to women he thought he could save. Maybe he had some twisted hero complex he wasn't aware of and didn't understand. Or maybe deep, deep down, he got off on emotional pain. Mark couldn't think of any other reason he would turn to Nicki, drag her against him, and seize her mouth as if his next breath of air could only come from her.

As he parted her lips beneath his with a moan, Mark sank into her sweetness, tasting, taking, ravaging. This was the one place she couldn't lie to him, couldn't pretend he didn't matter or didn't affect her.

Nicki might have a calculating heart ... but she also had a very responsive body. He planned to make sure she understood just who had the power with only bare skin and shared sighs between them.

And he planned to make his point starting now.

Cradling the back of her head in his palm, Mark kept her mouth captive as he pushed farther inside, swirling his tongue around hers. Not that she was shy--never Nicki. She melted against him, seeming to give everything, as her own tongue slid in a sensual dance against his and, wriggling against him in invitation, set his blood boiling.

Pulling her with him, their mouths still connected, Mark twisted around and lay Nicki down on the bed, then followed her there. If she was going to be his downfall, by damned, then she wouldn't escape the encounter without a scar or two. By the time he was done with her, she'd know what it meant to want until her gut cramped with it, she woke in a cold sweat, aching with need, her heart clutching every time she looked at him and wondered why.

Turnabout was fair play.

Beneath him, Nicki arched, pushing erect nipples into his chest. She parted her thighs in invitation.

"You shouldn't have pushed me, Nicki," he whispered, voice thick. "You offered, so I'm taking. And taking, and taking. This isn't over until you've come so many times, you've lost count."

"Mark," she breathed. "I missed you. Touch me. Take me." Then she stripped off her tank top, leaving nothing but the smooth satin of her olive skin that rolled into the hills of her firm breasts, topped with tight rosy tips.

He swallowed, steeling himself against the sight. If Nicki wanted to control him and drive him out of his mind, she was off to a great start. But not today, damn it.

Not ever again.

"My pace, my way," he growled. "You don't lift a finger unless you're told to."

"But--"

"Not a word, either."

She stared up at him, blue eyes dilated and confused--and aroused. Their blue invited him, like a calming pool. But he knew if he went there, he would drown.

Her arms came around him, fingers smoothing down his spine, leaving a swell of tingles in her wake. Then her palm cupped his ass and squeezed, and she lifted her hips beneath him, grinding her damp heat right against his cock, which began to throb in time with his quickening heartbeat.

Damn her.

"Stay there."

He lifted himself up from the bed and felt her stare glued to his back as he searched the drawers in her dresser. A few moments later, he found a bright red scarf. Then he flung the door of her walk-in closet open and prowled inside, past the miles of clothes and organized rows of shoes. Finally, he found a silky black robe and removed the belt. He turned back to her with a devious smile.