Talent to Burn (Hidden Talent #1) (11 page)

We moved in slow motion, down the fire escape, into the alley, and out into the street. Jamie took my arm by the elbow, steadying me as we walked back toward the car.

No more than twenty feet from the corner, a police car pulled up in front of us, lights flashing.

“Keep walking,” Jamie said.

Detective Jackson climbed out of the car and adjusted his tie. “Miz Wilson,” he said. “What are you doing in this part of town?”

All the blood drained out of my stomach and into my face. “My, er, fiancée and I were out on a date.” Jamie’s hand tightened on my arm. “This is Jamie.”

“I know who he is.” Jackson turned to Jamie. “Murphy. Haven’t seen you for years. They’ve been good years.”

They knew each other?
Oh. Aha
. While Jamie had talked about his less-than-legal past, I hadn’t imagined he knew the local law enforcement personally. Now I knew why he’d sent me into the police station alone.

“You’re a detective now, I see.” Jamie’s voice sounded easygoing but his fingers were still tight on my arm, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I am. I see you’ve moved up in the world too. Or maybe you’re out of your league.”

The two men stared at each other, Jamie dark and the detective as beige as before but somehow much more menacing. I could see their hackles rise.

“I wonder, Miz Wilson, how a nice girl like you came to be tangled up with a scumbag like this.”

I laughed, and it came out high and louder than I intended.

Jackson said, “I don’t suppose you know anything about a break in.”

“Not a thing,” Jamie said, not taking his eyes from the detective’s.

“I had a report of breaking glass and the sound of voices in the apartment of a person of interest.”

“Really.”

“I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that.”

“’Fraid not.” Jamie’s eyes glittered.

Jackson looked away for a moment, down at the pavement, then back up at Jamie. “Then I won’t need to worry about finding your fingerprints up there.”

“That’s right.”

I ran my memory of the break-and-enter back through my head. The only thing I could think of that we’d touched had been the window lock and sill, and Jamie had his hand wrapped for that. Had we touched anything else? Had he cut himself on the window glass and left DNA?

Jamie had his easy smile back, and his shoulders had lowered back to the regular position. He looked completely relaxed. “I guess we’ll be on our way, then, Detective.”

“I’m not going to tell you not to leave town, and not because I know you’d ignore me. If this turns out to have anything—anything—to do with you I’ll extradite your ass out of that mansion you live in these days and throw you back in the lock-up where you belong.”

Totally different detective from the one I’d spoken with. He didn’t exactly mince his words, either.

“Nice seeing you, Detective.” Jamie started to turn and I went with him. Jackson stepped in my path.

“Miz Wilson, if you’re as smart a girl as I think you are, you’ll take my advice.”

I had no snappy comeback, so I nodded, watching the detective watch Jamie while he spoke to me.

“Don’t trust him even for a second. Murphy’s only in it for himself, and you’d do well to remember that.”

That was the second person who’d warned me off Jamie in less than twenty-four hours. “Thanks for the advice,” I muttered. “Can we go now?”

The cop stepped out of the way and we walked away, Jamie striding, me scurrying along beside him, into the night.

The hotel door swung shut behind me. A rush had powered me all the way home—from the near miss, or the kiss, who knew? I realized I’d been babbling about nothing the whole time. Or at least I couldn’t remember a word I’d said.

Bedside lamps lit the room. The bed had been turned down and gold foil squares lay on the pillows. Chocolates, I guessed. It was still a big bed.

Jamie looked at me in the silence. “Run out of things to say?”

I nodded. He took one step toward me.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to ask me?” He started to lift one hand in an echo of entreaty.

“About the police?”

“That, or…”

“Have you been in jail?” I found myself asking, instead of the question I wanted to ask.

“No.” His face was neutral, eyes unreadable above those high cheekbones. “Well, not really. I’ve been arrested plenty of times, spent the night in jail more than once. They never had enough evidence to hold me.”

“That’s good,” I said. On some level. An awkward silence fell.

We both started to speak at the same time, and then stopped. I giggled. It wasn’t funny.

“Jamie, I…”

In a couple of quick strides, he crossed the room and seized me by the shoulders, lifting me up and pressing his mouth to mine. I pushed back against him, trying to kiss him and gasp for breath at the same time.

Every contact point between our bodies was electric—his hands sliding down my arms, his mouth hard and hot, and the warmth of his chest against mine through our shirts.

I fought to get my hands between us, and Jamie broke off the kiss, breathing heavily.

“You want me to stop?” he said.

“No, I just—” I pulled at the front of his shirt, fumbling with buttons, yanking at the hem.

“Okay,” he breathed and took my face between his hands and kissed me again. His mouth tasted fresh, masculine, amazing. He tasted as good as he smelled. At last, his shirt opened and I ran my hands over his chest, something I’d wanted to do since that first night in the motel. His skin ran smooth under my hands, firm and soft over his lean, muscular body. I wanted to touch more of him.

He paused in kissing me to pull my T-shirt over my head. Leaning back, he looked down at my chest, and then reached out a single hand to stroke the upper curve of my breast. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said, lifting his eyes to my face. His pupils were dilated, huge and dark and full of wanting.

“You too,” I said. “I want you.” My body didn’t care that I’d known him less than a week, neither did it care that he represented the opposite of everything my rational brain knew I wanted. All it knew was that he smelled and felt and looked good, and I wanted him against me naked, now.

I put my hands behind my back and undid my bra, then shrugged out of it and tossed it aside. Jamie made a sharp intake of breath and then he stepped in close to me, cradling a breast lightly in each hand.

He dropped a snowflake-light kiss onto my collarbone, then began to kiss his way down the center of my chest, between his hands, tickling my cleavage with his lips, then turned his head and breathed a stream of cool air on my nipple. I shuddered, my skin glowing with heat and desire.

Jamie growled and moved his mouth over the peak of my breast, closing his lips on me, kissing my nipple as if it were my mouth, stroking it with his tongue, sucking it gently. A groan came from deep in my throat.

I slid my hands around his shoulders, pulling him closer to me, wanting to feel his body pressed against my belly. He grabbed my ass, lifted me into the air and carried me the few steps to the bed, where he put me down onto the soft surface and then crawled onto me. I tried to get my hands between us once more to undo his jeans, but he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head with one big hand while continuing to suck and lick at my breasts. He was strong, and it only made me want him more. I arched my back, pushing against him, reveling in the silk of his skin against mine.

A cell phone played “The Imperial March” and I started. “Ignore it,” he mumbled against my breast. He deftly undid my pants one-handed and slid his palm down my stomach, along the line of my panties. His fingers played with the elastic, then dipped lower, brushing over the little hair I left there, and then a little lower. I moaned, wanting more. My body burned for him.

The sound ignited him into further action. He let go of my wrists and with both hands grabbed my pants and dragged them down and off. I lay before him spread-eagled, with only my thin, damp lace panties left to cover me. His gaze burned over me and the wet heat between my legs throbbed in response.

“You look damn edible like that,” he said, low and hungry.

Leaning down, he drew one finger across and over the outside seam of my panties, then hooked them to one side to expose my wet sex. He touched it, stroking his finger through the slick secretions, up, around my pulsing clit, and then down the other side. He drew his finger around in circles like that, each spiral bringing me higher. Every circuit brought him closer and closer until I thought my nerves would burn out. I arched and writhed, but the inexorable laps continued.

“Jamie,” I gasped.

“What,” he said, “what do you want?”

I had no words. He grinned that dark, evil grin and then simultaneously plunged two fingers into my dripping-wet center while rubbing my clit with his thumb.

I screamed and thrust up against his hand, hard against those fingers. My skin burned as though it would burst into flames any moment.

“The Imperial March” sounded again. “Ignore it,” he said, still gently moving his fingers in and out of me. “I have things I need to do with you.”

He pulled his fingers from me, leaving me hot and hungry for more. He stood and shucked off his jeans faster than I’d ever seen him move.

I hadn’t realized he was a commando man, and I drank in the sight of him. He was long and muscular, and had the tightest ass and thighs I’d ever seen. There were more tattoos than I’d realized, including a lightning bolt arrowing down his belly to point at his cock, where it stood erect and waiting for me.

“I want to do you so hard you won’t be able to stand up straight tomorrow,” he said.

He turned and began digging through his stuff. “Condom,” he said. “I know I picked some up earlier.”

My face heated up as I realized he must have thought about this, planned it at least on some level. Then I felt stupid for blushing while I lay there, naked and sweaty.

The hotel phone beside the bed shrilled.

“Damn it,” Jamie swore.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, laughing, the urgency slowing. “Somebody really wants you. Why don’t you get it?”

“All right,” he said, shrugging. “It can’t take long.”

He picked it up, watching me the whole time. I rolled over onto my side and he reached out a hand to casually run over the curves of my body.

“Hello. Yes, I’ll hold.” He rolled his eyes at me, and then became quiet. I could faintly hear a voice on the other end of the line, but I couldn’t make out any words.

When he spoke again, his voice had a different tone altogether.

“Yes ma’am…yes. Okay. I’m sorry. Yes. No.” His gaze hardened and moved away from me. “Right now? No, I…right. Very well then.”

He put the phone back in its cradle and sat on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” I put one hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He stood up abruptly. “I need to get some air.”

Chapter Twelve

I pulled the sheet around my suddenly cold shoulders and watched Jamie put on his clothes and shove his feet into his boots.

Pride should’ve kept me from saying anything, but I couldn’t help myself. “Where are you going?” I asked, and then snapped my mouth shut.

Jamie turned to look at me, his face closed. “I need some space.”

Lying down, I turned my back to him, and yanked the covers up to my neck. I would not let myself cry. At least not until he left the room.

“Ah, shit.” He came around the bed, into my field of view. “I need to move, to get some air,” he said again. “Do you want to come with me?”

Confused, I stammered, “I don’t want to get in your way.” Was he walking out on me or not? Who had that been on the phone? I didn’t know what the hell was going on.

He sat on the edge of the bed and gave me a quick hug. “You won’t be. I’m not running out on you. You may as well come. I need to think.”

I dressed quickly, my gaze on the floor. Ashamed even of my embarrassment, I didn’t turn my back, although I wanted to. When I’d pulled my shoes on, I looked up and met Jamie’s eyes.

He nodded, and led the way out of the room, holding the door for me. I followed him through the hotel to a theoretically traditional Japanese garden. It was subtly lit and lay fairly quiet in the middle of the night, with most people asleep, gambling or drinking. We were not completely alone—a security guard hovered near the entrance and a few other people wandered within.

My feet crunched on the white gravel, and I trailed along behind Jamie until we came to a halt at the edge of a pond.

“Koi,” he said, pointing at the golden fish swimming in the depths beneath the waterfall.

I took a seat on a nearby stone bench, and waited to see if he was going to talk to me.

“So,” he said, staring into the water. “That phone call.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, trying to be neutral.

“That was my boss. She wants me to go back to DC immediately.”