Thieves Like Us Read online

  “Well, I hope you remember soon, because it drove me crazy imagining how pulling one string would make all those laces come loose.”

  Heat shot through her, and she covered it up with a laugh. “Pervert. It doesn’t work that way. The laces are for decoration; it has a couple hooks in front.”

  “Really?” His face lit with a whole new interest.

  “You’re weird.” In a really sexy way, she thought.

  Jeez, what was wrong with her? She sounded like Libby, like a thirteen-year-old girl, not a twenty-nine-year-old woman. She pulled the car door closed, hoping to distract him from the evidence on her T-shirt—two hard nubs poking through her flimsy bra. The man seriously turned her on, and she was dying to do something about it.

  Rocky walked around the front of the car, got in, and started the engine, but left the car in park when his phone rang. She turned on the air as he talked, short sentences that ended quickly as he flipped the phone closed.

  “That was Ben. Someone broke into your place again.”

  “Again? What was left to look through?”

  “It wouldn’t have been the same person. My guess is the Colombians were looking for diamonds the first time, judging by the thorough job and the fact there was more than one person. This time, I’m betting it’s whoever wants the rest of the Pellinni Jewels.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Seems I’m pretty popular.”

  “Forget it. Nothing’s changed, and you’re safe. That’s all that counts.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek, and just like that, she forgot all about her condo. She fiddled with the vents, desperately trying to cool down. The rising heat and humidity outside had little to do with the perspiration that made her T-shirt and jeans stick to her skin. The fact that his mesmerizing eyes and sexy smile reminded her of a hungry wolf had everything to do with it, and she blasted the cold air directly at her chest.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “What?” Her startled response probably destroyed any chance that she could pull off a cool and collected facade.

  “Would you like to stop somewhere to eat? It’s early, but I’m starving.” Behind that intense gaze, he was doing cool and collected just fine. She was the one with her mind in the gutter.

  “That sounds good.” Not really, but she didn’t want to go home, which seemed to be the only other option. And eating would give her something to do besides think about touching Rocky.

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  Several inappropriate responses came to mind, but she firmly shoved them out of her mind. She played it safe. “Anything. You decide.”

  “Italian?”

  “Fine.” If it was one of those cozy little restaurants with booths where they could sit close together. She would feel his thigh warm against her own, maybe let her hand stray . . .

  She shut down the image and hoped she wasn’t blushing.

  She wasn’t about to ask where they were going. With her hormones running amuck, she was better off saying nothing. Instead, she tried to cool her over-heated libido by reminding herself of all the reasons she’d resisted Rocky for the past year.

  The biggest reason was herself. She had to consider her history of bad choices when it came to men. Well, a one-man history, but a doozy of a bad choice. Being taken in by Banner’s smooth lies had shaken her to the core. It couldn’t happen again. How much did she really know about Rocky?

  Plenty: he was a reformed jewel thief; a law student and successful business owner; a charming, handsome, accomplished man. Helpful. Good with kids. Kind to animals. Janet rubbed her forehead as she watched the buildings pass by without really seeing them. This wasn’t helping.

  The man must have faults, but she was having a hard time finding them. She felt more attracted to him than to any man she’d ever known, including the man she’d married, back when she thought Banner was suave, sophisticated, and in love with her. He’d turned out to be none of those things. More like slick, slippery, and in love with her family’s air freight company.

  But not Rocky. He liked her boldness and independence, two things Banner had hated. He liked the way she kissed—that was obvious from the way he kissed her back. He liked her smile. He liked her ankle chain, for God’s sake. He liked her.

  She stole a look at him. She liked him, too. A lot. And this was doing nothing to suppress her wild sexual desire.

  She had to stop thinking about him and concentrate on the present. Food.

  She returned her attention to the scenery just as they turned onto a side street, then followed a drive to the back entrance of a condominium complex. He flashed a smile as he pulled into a garage. “Best place around for Italian food—my kitchen.”

  His place. Intimate. Private. Equipped with every comfort and convenience one could want for . . .

  Eating dinner. Nothing more.

  Rocky punched a code on a keypad by the door and led the way into a dim laundry room before locking the door behind them. Turning, he bumped into Janet.

  “Sorry!” She stepped back, about to make some excuse about not paying attention, when he pulled her against his body.

  “Not so fast,” he murmured against her ear, sending shivers all the way to her toes. “Lasagna can wait another couple minutes. This is a better idea.”

  “I didn’t mean to . . .” His mouth brushed a whisper-soft caress over her temple, then her cheek. Her bones went soft while other parts of her snapped to attention. “Oh, never mind.”

  “You seem jumpy. That’s not conducive to a good meal. I think you need to relax first.”

  He stroked a hand down her back and over the curve of her bottom, coaxing her gently against the firm line of his thighs. She couldn’t think of anything less conducive to relaxing—key parts of her body were suddenly zinging with erotic ideas that had nothing to do with dinner.

  “You smell good enough to eat,” he said against her hair. Raising his head, he gave her a feral smile. “Want to be the appetizer?”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned.

  He backed her into the wall, and she slapped one hand against it for support as he pinned her with a deep kiss. Finding his waist with her other hand, she hooked her fingers in a belt loop and pulled him closer as she let the fire take her.

  They were both breathing hard when he lifted his head. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered. “I hope you don’t mind if dinner is late.” He reached back as he spoke, tossing the car keys on the washing machine with a sharp clang.

  “A sacrifice I’m willing to—eeek!” she yelped. A white blur shot by Rocky’s shoulder, thumped onto the dryer, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “My cat,” he said. “She likes the view from the shelf up there.” When she turned to look, he touched her head, turning it back toward him and placing a quick kiss on her mouth. “Uh-uh, no distractions. You might forget what we’re doing.”

  Not likely. She could swear his touch had created an energy that traveled downward, flicking on nerve endings all over her body. Nerve endings that begged to be touched by him. Parts of her were coming alive that had been dormant for far too long; she practically squirmed with anticipation.

  He seemed a bit eager himself. He pulled her into a kitchen she barely glimpsed before backing her against the refrigerator and pinning her hands beside her head while he took her in a slow, deep kiss. She melted beneath him, as if she could absorb his hard body into hers. His pounding heart already felt like her own as it beat between them.

  He looked at her from inches away. “I’m going to have fond memories every time I open this refrigerator.”

  “That’s so romantic.”

  He grinned at her, not the least bit insulted. “You want romantic?” He teased his tongue across her lips then drew her into a lingering kiss while cupping her breast beneath her blouse and flicking his fingers across its sensitive nipple. A wet heat settled between her thighs. “Lasagna by candlelight, maybe?”

  She framed his head in her hands, mak
ing sure she held his gaze with her own. “Rocky, I think we can skip the lasagna.”

  Heat flared in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but she understood things had just turned serious for him. If she’d had any doubts, the intensity of his gaze might have made her nervous, but it didn’t. It excited her even more to know how important she was to him.

  Without removing her top, his hands found the clasp of her bra and opened it. The next second she caught her breath as his mouth lowered first to one breast, then to the other, his warm suction creating an answering pull between her legs that left her flushed and panting.

  If she hadn’t had the refrigerator for support, her legs would have collapsed. As it was, her knees were shaky. She took a couple steadying breaths. “I don’t suppose you have a bed?”

  “Upstairs. But I don’t think we’re going to make it that far.”

  Fine with her, since she wasn’t sure her legs were strong enough to climb the stairs. She would have settled for the floor, but he walked backward into the living room, pulling her along, tugging off her top and bra as they went. She removed his shirt, dropped it to the floor, and ran her hands over the smooth planes of his chest.

  “Mmm,” she hummed, and melted a little more.

  He unzipped her jeans and reached inside with both hands, cupping her bottom. Warm, rough palms gripped her skin, igniting more flames. With a quick movement, he lifted her against him. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she closed her eyes and let the tiny shocks quiver through her.

  Her breath came faster, responding to her urgency building inside. Clutching his shoulders, she arched back as his mouth sought her breast, suckling hard. She breathed his name, turning it into a plea, helpless against the desire racing through her.

  He groaned against the swell of her breast. “God, Janet, I want you. Right now.”

  “Yes,” she managed, because she didn’t have enough breath to say: “Absolutely, take me, that’s the best idea you’ve ever had, and if you don’t hurry up I may just explode in your arms from sheer frustration.”

  “Yes” was enough. He passed by the stairs and entered a small room. It was an office, lit by muted beams of light that seeped through slatted blinds. He laid her on a leather couch and tugged her jeans off before working frantically at his own.

  She licked her lips, watching as he dug through his wallet for a condom and sheathed himself. He paused then, his hot gaze softening as he looked at her.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  Because she knew it wasn’t just a line, her throat closed on a rush of emotion she didn’t try to name. Her voice was barely a whisper as she held her hand out to him. “Come here.”

  Placing one knee on the couch, he hovered over her, touching her hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to rush this.”

  “You didn’t.” She raised a hand to his face, giving him a tremulous smile. “I want you, too.”

  She pulled him down, certain if he waited another minute she’d die. But he put his hand between them, stroking, then dipping inside her, assuring himself she was ready. She bit back a gasp. “Rocky, please . . .”

  He sank into her. She thrust upward to meet him, watching his eyes as she undulated again. Each movement eased a yearning while creating another one. With one foot on the floor, he set the rhythm, slow then faster, holding them both at the brink. She panted, digging her nails into his shoulder, lost in the pulse that thrummed in her veins and rocked between her thighs.

  Faster.

  Harder.

  The fiery, consuming explosion began, rolling outward in tight waves. She caught her breath, pressed against him, and held on. After a few more strokes, he rode it with her, until they both collapsed against the leather cushions, limp and exhausted.

  She lay beneath him, breathing hard, mind racing. Wondering if it had been even half as incredible for him as it had been for her.

  After a minute, he rolled to the tight space against the back cushions and threw his arm over his head. “Holy shit,” he breathed softly.

  She smiled. Maybe it had been.

  She could have stayed there a long while, but some things couldn’t wait. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Back toward the kitchen. Come on, I’ll show you.” He chuckled. “Then I’ll fix us something to eat.”

  He watched as she stopped to pick up her scattered clothes. “If you put them on I’ll just have to take them off all over again,” he warned. Before she could respond, he perked up. “Never mind. Sounds like fun.”

  It did. But for a moment she felt oddly adrift, and realized it was because she no longer had to find a comeback, some smart remark that denied her mutual interest. She’d made that interest pretty clear a few minutes ago on his couch. She smiled. “Looking forward to it,” she said, following him.

  He was in the kitchen, bare-chested but wearing his jeans, when she came out. She didn’t hesitate; walking up behind him, she ran her hands over the hard muscles of his back and arms, loving the strength she felt, then slid her hands around to the front. When her fingers encountered the button on his jeans, she flicked it open.

  He spun her around so fast she gasped and laughed, finding herself trapped against the counter with his bare chest right in front of her. It looked as touchable as his back. She leaned into him, pressing a kiss above his heart, then trailing a line with her tongue up to his neck. He froze. She smiled to herself, feeling his skin shiver.

  “Janet . . .”

  “Hmm?”

  Her tongue found his and she stood on tiptoe, molding her body to his in a long, slow kiss. When she finally pulled away, he swore under his breath.

  “How do you feel about sex on a kitchen counter?”

  She wasn’t sure how that would work, but just the idea excited her. “I thought we were eating.”

  “Food can wait,” he growled.

  Barely controlling her excitement, she fed him the obvious straight line. “And I just put my clothes on.”

  “I can fix that.” He grabbed a handful of shirt, prepared to tug it over her head when the doorbell rang.

  They looked at each other. “Ignore it,” he decided, lifting her shirt and molding her breasts with his hands. She closed her eyes.

  The bell rang again and a woman’s voice sang out, “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Hernandez! I have a package for you!”

  She smiled at his look of irritation. “Girl next door?”

  “Old lady next door. Mrs. Garfield.”

  “I think she knows you’re here.” She pulled her shirt down, determined to do this without interruptions. “Answer it. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  He scowled. “Fine. But don’t take anything off this time. I want to do that myself.”

  Pleasant shivers skittered down her back. “Promise.”

  Seconds later she heard him open the front door with a pleasant, “Hello, Mrs. Garfield.” She hoped he’d remembered to fasten his pants.

  The package had apparently only been part of Mrs. Garfield’s news. When the woman’s chattering hadn’t died down a couple minutes later, she decided he needed rescuing. Grabbing a dish towel, she walked into the living room.

  They stood just inside the door, the short, gray-haired lady rattling on about garbage pickup and Dumpster regulations while Rocky listened patiently, holding a box. Janet caught the lady’s surprised look and smiled. “Hello, I’m sorry to interrupt. Where did you say you kept the flour, sweetie?”

  Mrs. Garfield’s face lit with curiosity. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.” She made no move to leave.

  “Mrs. Garfield, this is Janet.”

  Janet shook her hand and took the package from Rocky, a square box big enough to hold a basketball. “Here, let me take that.” They exchanged grins. “The flour?” she reminded him.

  “The cupboard beside the stove. I’ll be right there to help, honey.”

  It was all very contrived, but she enjoyed the charade and being called honey. It felt almost natural aroun
d Rocky. In the pretense she’d invented she could easily see him returning to the kitchen to help her prepare dinner. He belonged in that sort of scenario.

  He also belonged in bed, with her. That was an even better scenario, and one Mrs. Garfield was delaying with every word she spoke. Janet carried the package back to the kitchen and set it on the counter, waiting for Rocky to usher Mrs. Garfield out the door. She could hear him making excuses now, and smiled to herself while somehow still feeling sorry for poor Mrs. Garfield. Women naturally responded to Rocky’s charm, and older women were no exception. She understood the attraction. Boy, did she ever. And as soon as she heard that door close behind Mrs. Garfield, they could get back to business.

  Janet heard something coming from inside the box and frowned. Was it fizzing? She could have sworn it had made some sort of sound.

  Approaching cautiously, she poked the box. Nothing happened. Could something inside have spilled? It hadn’t felt too heavy, and she hadn’t noticed a return address. Rocky would be here in a minute, but she could hear Mrs. Garfield going on about curbside recycling, and the box was definitely making a sound. And getting louder. She touched it. The cardboard was unnaturally warm.

  Gingerly, she carried it to the sink. If they needed to contain a spill or put out flames, the box would at least be in the right place. She didn’t know what else to do. Peering closely, she tried to find the return address.

  A flash of light and a muffled explosion made her whirl away, raising a hand to her eyes. The world spun and she couldn’t see. Blinking at the sudden pervasive whiteness, she covered her nose with her hand. Something smelled odd . . .

  It was the last thing she remembered.

  Chapter

  Eight

  Rocky heard it just as he closed the front door behind Mrs. Garfield, a small poof like starter