The Taming of the Thief (9 page)

 
   
“Sorry.” Sophie shook her head to clear the
thoughts clouding her good judgment. She flicked her gaze from the streets
gliding past outside the window to the man staring at her. “I was thinking
about last night.”

 
   
“You're safe.” Pietr assured solemnly.
When he reached over to interlace his fingers with hers, a jolt of
awareness shot through her.
“I mean that.”

 
   
“You realize that we're still strangers,
right? You barely know me, why would you take on my problems?” She twisted in
the seat, tucking one leg over to the other to look at him, even as her thumb
toyed with the skin along the back of his hand. He had great fingers, long and
strong without being too thick. He didn't favor jewelry either and his left
ring finger was evenly tanned.

 
   
“And yet, we've shared a meal and a night
together. Knowing someone comes in many different forms.” Despite the lightness
of his words, his accented voice was low and throaty.

 
   
“Why did you come to see me last night at my
apartment before all the chaos and the craziness? You said you'd been looking
for me.” He'd avoided her question the night before, so nimbly that she'd
forgotten all about it until now.

 
   
Pietr sighed. His gaze glided over her face
and then to the window behind her. Veiled thoughts slipped across his eyes, as
though he wrestled internally with some dilemma. Was the dilemma telling her
the truth? Or was he worried that without the question they would have nothing
left to keep them together?

 
   
The second thought startled her.

 
   
If he asked his question, would that be the
end of this experience? Would he leave? Jet off for some exotic locale while
she muddled through this mess she'd found herself in?

 
   
Her chest constricted.

 
   
“Honestly, I am in New York for research.”
Pietr squeezed her hand and another jolt of awareness. Outside, the big city
blocks gave way to rows of brownstones, condos and apartments lining the East
Side.

 
   
“I'm going to assume museum research because
you said you went there first.”

 
   
“
Oui.”

 
   
Sophie chewed the inside of her lip, toes
curling inside her shoes. She clamped down on the need to fidget or pull her
hand away. She liked the way he held it too much.

 
   
“Sophie, you are a specialist in Middle and
Near Eastern art and artifacts and your dissertation
is
on cultural icons and their influence on historical and modern art.”

 
   
Sophie's mouth fell open.

 
   
Pietr chuckled, tugging her hand up to his
lips for a soft brush of a kiss to the knuckles. Warmth shuttled through her
surprise as he tucked her hand against his chest. The lazy thump of his
heartbeat teased her.

 
   
“Your advisor, a Professor Fleinhardt,
recommended you to Walter Curry, he would have come to meet you himself, but he
was unavoidably and thankfully detained.”

 
   
Sophie's mind buzzed with delight. Her
thesis professor's recommendation was an amazing compliment. Although tenured
at NYU, Professor Fleinhardt spent the last term serving as a guest lecturer at
Oxford. Her dissertation had stalled months ago, but the new collection at the
museum and her own curiosity at recent news articles regarding several looted
pieces recovered for the Iraqi museum had given her work a necessary boost.

 
   
She was nearly finished.

 
   
“And you're thankful that this Mr. Curry was
detained?” The limousine crawled up to stop in front of what Sophie realized
belatedly was her apartment building.

 
   
“Absolutely because had he
not been detained, he might be with you right now instead of me.”
Pietr
kissed her hand once more and shifted to slide around and out the door that
Jacques opened. On his feet once more, he extended the hand back to her and she
accepted it, stepping out onto the curb.

 
   
“Would you like me to go inside first?”
Jacques inquired. Despite his pleasant demeanor, his cool gaze scanned the
street.

 
   
“No,” Pietr answered first, tucking her hand
into the crook of his elbow. It seemed her Frenchman had taken possession of
her hand. Unease stirred in her belly as her gaze traveled up the front of her
building. She'd known nothing but safety, warmth and acceptance here. It made
her ill to think that strangers had violated her sanctuary.

 
   
 
She
dug her fingers into Pietr's arm as the door opened and Frank Whelan stepped
out and held open his arms. “Morning, Miss Sophie.”

 
   
Former NYPD Officer Frank Whelan had been a
beat cop for more than 30 years and another ten as a peace officer in Stuy
Town, but he'd been born in Louisiana and his upbringing and mannerisms,
including the addition of Miss to any woman's name, dated back to that time.

 
   
Sophie let go of Pietr and dashed into
Frank's open arms. The older man gave her a good squeeze before pushing her
back to arm's length and looking her over.

 
   
“Your dad stopped by this morning.
Said something about fixing the pipes in your kitchen.”
Frank didn't have to frown. His tone rebuked well enough.

 
   
Sophie winced. She should have called her
parents, but it had been so late and they tended to be early to bed, early to
rise. It's where she'd developed the habit. “Did you let him in?”

 
   
“No, I told him I'd already had a look at
them and would have a plumber in to replace the whole works.” Frank's measured
gaze slid past her to Pietr. “But I don't care for lying to your father, so you
call him and straighten it out so I can apologize.”

 
   
“Yes, sir.”
Frank
had done her an enormous favor and thought about her parent's peace of mind,
something she should have done herself.

 
   
“And this is?” He looked significantly at
Pietr.

 
   
Thoroughly chastened, Sophie backed up a
step and held out a hand to Pietr, who slid up next to her. “Frank Whelan, this
is Pietr Sauvage.”

 
   
“Sir,” Pietr held out his hand and Sophie
watched as Frank took it, his measured gaze examining Pietr from head to toe.

 
   
“French.”

 
   
“Russo-French,
Oui.
”
Pietr's easy grin didn't
slip, nor did he attempt to evade Frank's direct gaze.

 
   
“Huh.” Frank grunted. “You hurt our Sophie
and I'll break both your arms. We clear?”

 
   
“Frank!” Sophie's mouth fell open, but
Pietr's grin grew wider.

 
   
“
Absolument
.”

 
   
“Good.” He dropped Pietr's hand. “Your
apartment is locked up tight, I had a good look after the uniforms and crime
scene techs were done. Miss Valorie's taken the kids up to her mother's for a
few days. Mrs. Bruno's grandson is visiting this weekend too.”

 
   
Frank looked after the tenants and took
their safety to heart.

 
   
“Is she all right?”

 
   
They were still standing at the entranceway
to the building. Pietr's frame shadowed hers as he shifted. He watched the
street. Sophie stole a glance over her shoulder and saw that Jacques leaned
against the car, his gaze scanning as well.

 
   
Even Frank's gaze shifted around, watchful
and aware.

 
   
“She's fine, Miss Sophie. She plied the boys
with coffee and muffins half the night, but it took her grandson and
I
a bit to convince her to get some sleep. I promised her
you'd call towards the weekend if you hadn't come by to see her.”

 
   
Sophie bobbed her head obediently. Mrs.
Bruno would be worried otherwise.

 
   
“All right, I'll be here the rest of the
week. The missus is off shopping with the girls at the Mall of the Americas.”
Frank's face wrinkled at the words. “So I'll be making a nuisance of myself and
Bryant's got my number, he'll keep me in the loop.”

 
   
“Thank you, Frank.” Sophie gave him a quick
buss on the cheek and stepped into the building, Pietr hot on her heels.

 
   
As they crested the third floor landing,
Sophie put a finger to her lips. If Frank was right (and he usually was), then
Mrs. Bruno had been up far too late. But the older woman had a sixth sense
about visitors in the building. Pietr raised an eyebrow, but walked so softly
she wouldn't have known he followed if she didn't feel his hand on the small of
her back as she walked ahead of him.

 
   
At the fifth floor, Pietr chuckled.

 
   
“What?” Sophie asked.

 
   
“Your building really needed an elevator,
but the comfort of an elevator would really not match the view.”

 
   
Sophie hesitated at the landing between the
fifth and sixth floors to look back at Pietr. His gaze lingered on her rear,
sliding slowly up the length of her to her eyes as she paused.

 
   
Heat flooded her cheeks at the naked want
reflected in his gaze. “Um,” she swallowed. “Thank you?”

 
   
“No,” Pietr's grin grew. “Thank
you
.”

 
   
Her heart tripped at the husky words, her
breaths becoming shallower. Pietr climbed the steps until he stood just one
below her, his head nearly even with hers. His gaze traced over her face,
stopping at her lips before lifting to meet her eyes again, the question within
them searing her.

 
   
“Yes,” she whispered, passionate curiosity
jerking free of the reins of embarrassment. He came towards her slow, filling
her vision. His gaze arrested hers, boring into her as though he could see deep
into her soul.

 
   
The first touch of his lips was the barest
brush of a kiss,
a nuzzle
of breath against the corner
of her mouth. Sophie's hands came up to his shoulders, as his hand closed over
her hip. Fire licked up the sliver of space between their bodies. His nuzzling
mouth traveled over her lower lip, teeth grazing ever so lightly.

 
   
Her muscles went liquid and soft, her belly
rippled with a quiet need that echoed through the groan vibrating in her
throat. Pietr's teasing kiss traveled to the opposite corner of her mouth, his
tongue lapped gently. Her mouth opened, desperate to draw more than just the
small sample of him.

 
   
His fingers dug into her hip. Sophie leaned
up onto her toes, as his mouth fused with hers, tongue plundering past her
teeth to tangle with her own. Need exploded inside of her.
Shivers
of pleasure wrestling with pure want.

 
   
She forgot the stairwell. She forgot the
apartment. She forgot the night before. She drank from Pietr's kiss, her hands
leaving his shoulders to wrap around him, closing the empty space until she
flattened against the long, hard length of him.

 
   
Pietr's arm was a steel band around her
back, his hand cupping her bottom. She gasped, startled at the contact, but met
his tongue thrust for thrust. Her nipples tightened beneath the silk bra and
moisture flooded the juncture between her thighs.

 
   
She wanted him.

 
   
A kittenish mewling filled her ears.
Oh God.
The raw wanton sound came from
her. The muscles in Pietr's arms and chest
flexed,
her
heart ricchocheted as he slowly pulled his mouth away, kissing along her jaw to
her ear. She struggled against him, turning her head to recapture his mouth,
but he evaded her with a chuckle that curled her toes.