The Lady Is a Thief (14 page)

 
   
“A skill I've needed over the years—my
father is a very influential man and that earns me a lot of unwanted and
unwarranted attention. What's your excuse?” Her eyes blazed with renewed temper
and challenge. He preferred this woman, cunning, clever, and creative to the
worried, almost desperate tone of the one courting defeat just moments earlier.

 
   
“My work requires anonymity more often than
not. So I've learned how to blend in when needed.” A breeze pushed at the
tousled curls of her hair and he itched to tuck an errant strand behind her
ear.

 
   
“Who do you work for?”

 
   
He'd debated the answer to that since
deciding on the direct approach. Perhaps one thing to infiltrate her business
meeting and even hitch a ride on her plane, but coming to her hotel room and
attaching himself to her hip meant that the same rope he would use to control
her—kept him tied to her.

 
   
How much truth did he give her? How much did
he dare?

 
   
“Do you have the Buddha?” He turned the
question back on her in a calculated gamble.

 
   
“What does that have to do with who you work
for?” She called his bluff.

 
   
“Everything.
But
let's set that aside for the moment.” They needed to change tactics and he
needed her to trust him.

 
   
“Why?” She wasn't as willing as he to let it
go.

 
   
“Because, the immediate
threat is to you personally.
Let's just say you have the Buddha,” he
held up a hand stifling her objection. “For the moment, let's allege that you
have
The
Fortunate Buddha
in your possession. Louis
duMonde
has a vested interest in the item. Stolen from him in Geneva, he wants it
returned to him, and he thinks you have it.”

 
   
“And did you have anything to do with why he
thinks that?”

 
   
He shook his head. He wasn't even entirely
sure that Louis did think Kit had the Buddha, but it was the only plausible
reason the man would be bringing in reinforcements and why he'd followed her to
California. None of their research turned up a romantic or personal connection
between Lady Hardwicke and the Viscount, so his interest had to be business.

 
   
The Fortunate Buddha
business.

 
   
“I only have your word for that.”

 
   
“True and I only have your word that you
don't have the Buddha in your duffel in the room right now.”

 
   
Her nostrils flared with the swift intake of
breath and her mouth tightened. He'd poked her temper and her honor in one
coordinated verbal attack. She spun on a heel and marched into the hotel room.
Putting her coffee cup on the dresser, she bent down and every thought in his
head bled down to his groin.

 
   
A pair of sheer lace panties hugged her very
round bottom, the nude color blended with her skin tone and if not for the
delicate pattern, he'd have thought her nude from the waist down. A hint of red
hidden behind the scrap of lace, answering an internal question he'd been
trying not to think about.

 
   
The flame-haired vixen was a very natural
redhead.

 
   
Very.

 
   
She stood up abruptly and flung the duffel
bag at him. It bounced off his chest, but he caught it before it fell to floor.
All the moisture left his mouth, because the heat in her eyes and the flush
warming her cheeks gave him more ideas.

 
   
Ideas he didn't need her bag for.

 
   
“Well, look.” She motioned to the bag, one
hand on her hip and the other reaching up to shove through the curls falling
into her face.
Rumpled, warm, and adorable.
He'd kill
Louis before he let
duMonde
get his hands on her
again.

 
   
“What?” She demanded when he continued to
just stare at her.

 
   
“You're beautiful.” He breathed out on the
compliment.
“Really beautiful.”

 
   
Her mouth opened and then snapped shut again
as though she wasn't sure what to say. She moistened her lips. “Thank you. But
what does that have to do with searching the bag?”

 
   
“Not a damn thing.” He set the bag on the
chair and the coffee cup on the table.

 
   
“You're not going to search it? You have my
permission.” Her chin came up, but the challenge in her expression turned wary.

 
   
He shook his head and walked toward her. The
light glimmered off the dampness on her lower—exceptionally kissable—lip. “No.”

 
   
She retreated, but he pressed forward,
undeterred. She wore a perfume that reminded him of marzipan, sweet and
decadent. When she backed up against the dresser, he reached out and brushed
one finger down the curve of her cheek to trace the outline of her lips.

 
   
“What are you doing?” Her breath whispered
across his fingertip and he smiled.

 
   
“Would you prefer an explanation?” He lifted
his brows. “Or
an
invitation?”

 
   
Her throat tightened with a swallow and her
breath came in faster, shallow puffs. It warmed his skin. “You said you didn't
want to kiss me.”

 
   
“No, I didn't.” Leaning closer, he traced
the line of her face to the curl that insisted on falling into her eyes. He
curled it around his finger and then tugged it back to tuck behind her ear. “I
said if you kissed me again, I'd spank you.”

 
   
The corners of her mouth
quirked.
“That's almost the same thing.”

 
   
He shook his head slowly. “It's not the same
thing at all.”

 
   
She pressed a hand to his chest. “I don't
know you.”

 
   
“I know.” He closed the gap until his lips
were just millimeters from hers. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

 
   
“If I say no?”
The
tip of her nose brushed his, the breathy little words adding a wave of fresh
torment to his already hypersensitive libido.

 
   
“Then we can talk about the item you didn't
steal some more and why you need two—” Her mouth fused to his and silenced him.
The rational portion of his mind struggled to hang onto the logical result of
this kiss, but he shut it off and enjoyed the feel of satin and
heat
where their breath mingled and her tongue stroked along
his. Her arms twined around his neck and he gave into the indulgent desire to
cup her lace-covered bottom. All soft curves and dizzying sensation, he drank
from the kiss like a man dying of thirst.

 
   
He had a hundred reasons to end the kiss
immediately. His cock strained against his pants, as hard and stiff as a high
school senior on his first date. She was the prime suspect in a globe-spanning
criminal endeavor. She possessed a priceless artifact that needed to be
returned. So many reasons to stop and he needed only one to scoop her up in his
arms and devour the sweet, tart flavor of her mouth. He wanted her.

 
   
Her nails dug into his shirt and she pulled
him closer. The soft hum of her moan vibrated through him and he lifted her up
until her thighs locked on his hips and her ankles crossed behind his legs. The
t-shirt rode up and he followed the line of her spine. Just as soft as he
imagined it would be.

 
   
Twisting away from the dresser, he carried
her over to the bed and followed her down on the rumpled sheets. Weight braced
on one hand, he let his fingers explore the soft skin around her belly button
before tracing a path up to cup one breast. She gasp and pulled away from the
kiss, panting. He massaged her breast gently, all too aware of the burgeoning
stiffness in her nipple.

 
   
He nuzzled the corner of her mouth. Her eyes
darkened as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Truce?”

 
   
“So we can have sex?” She laughed. “Where's
the fun in that?”

 
   
Dipping his head down, he caught the other
nipple through her t-shirt and drew it against his teeth and she arched her
back. Her hands latched onto his hair and he drummed the turgid peak with his
tongue until the shirt shaped it perfectly, clinging to the pebbled bud.

 
   
He shifted to his side and traced his
fingers over her belly, abandoning the breast he very much wanted to continue tormenting.
“This is a bad idea.”

 
   
Kit sighed and closed her eyes. “Yes, it
is.”

 
   
Running his hand up and down the hourglass
line from her ribs to her hips, he struggled to bring his mind back to the
task. Every time his fingers brushed over the waistband of her panties, he
wanted to go further. He slid one fingertip beneath the hem and stroked the
skin beneath it.

 
   
“That isn't stopping.” She trailed one hand
against his scalp, tingles radiating out from every stroke of her nails.

 
   
“I know. I'm considering the possible ways
this ends.” He flattened his palm against her abdomen and glided the heel of
his hand down to the soft curls between her legs. Her sharp inhale pushed her
breasts up and he caught the damp tip through the fabric. Her foot slid up the
bed, her legs parting further and the internal war slid further in favor of the
one reason to just say the hell with it. He hadn't found a woman this
responsive or this enticing in years.

 
   
He could keep the two separate.

 
   
“Maybe we should…”

 
   
“I think we can…”

 
   
Their words ran over each other and his
phone buzzed in his back pocket. Annoyed, he had to slip his hand free and pull
the damn device out. The message splashed icy reality over his desire. “Get
dressed.”

 
   
He stood and grabbed her bag from where he'd
dropped it and walked over to the sliding glass door, shutting it and pulling
the drapes.

 
   
“What's wrong?”

 
   
But she scooted forward, pulling her t-shirt
down and dragging on a pair of shorts. Standing, she tugged her hair up into a
ponytail and looked all of sixteen. It didn't help that he knew she was in her
late twenties—he suddenly felt very much like a letch.

 
   
“
duMonde's
on his way here.”

 
   
She froze and stared at him. “That's
impossible.”

 
   
“No, my guy is right behind him and said
that
duMonde
left his Beverly Hills hotel with three
cars. Two are currently stopping at every hotel in Riverside and Pomona.
duMonde
is on his way to
Pasadena.” He cursed his own libido, searching the room and throwing all of their
stuff together in one collection. He left the waiter's jacket hanging in the
closet. Using a towel from the bathroom, he started wiping down all the
surfaces he'd touched—including the coffee mugs.

 
   
“Okay, that's not disturbing at all.”

 
   
He glanced over and found her staring at him
with a frown. “I'll explain later.”

 
   
“You know—if you didn't want to have sex,
you could have just said that.”

 
   
He finished wiping the table and walked over
to her. Sliding his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, he pulled her
close and pressed her right against his stiffness of his dick trying to escape
his pants. “I want to have sex. I want to have a lot of sex—hot, wet, naked
sex. But right now the priority is keeping you out of
duMonde's
reach.”