Illegal Possession

by Kay Hooper

  Her hands moved to grip his shoulders fiercely as his lips trailed slowly down her flat stomach; she lost her breath and couldn’t seem to find it again, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except his erotic caresses and the splintering tension that was building inside of her until she wanted to scream aloud with the awful pleasure of it. She wanted to move, had to move, but her feverish body wouldn’t obey her, and Dallas was creating sensations she wouldn’t have believed possible.

  She heard her voice pleading with him wildly, passionately, and she suddenly had to hold on to him with all the strength in her supple body because she was afraid she’d be lost if she didn’t; lost and soaring with nothing binding her to earth….

  And then suddenly he was with her completely, and her eyes widened in the primitive shock of being known so totally. But there was no time to wonder at the feeling or explore it, there was only the building tension stretching like a live wire until something had to give.

  Troy cried out when the wire snapped, astonished and overwhelmed by the feelings ripping through her, dimly hearing Dallas groan out her name….

  She was not going to open her eyes. She was comfortable, her head pillowed on his shoulder and one hand resting on his chest, and she didn’t care if she never moved again. He’d pulled the covers up around them, and the room was no longer filled with the sounds of their harsh breathing; there was only a dreamy aftermath, and Troy savored it.

  “Did I call you a lady?” Dallas murmured in a bemused voice. “Maybe I should amend that to read wildcat.”

  “Complaining?” Troy questioned idly.

  “Hell, no,” he said firmly, and she giggled.

  “It was quite a shock to me too.”

  His hand felt around beneath the covers for a moment, settling on her hip, which he patted gently. “And thereby hangs a tale,” he said with relish.

  Troy choked back a laugh. “It isn’t my fault that you jumped to conclusions,” she reminded him. “I said that I could have had scores of lovers, not that I did.”

  “Love makes a man paranoid,” he explained apologetically.

  “Mmm. Well, let me tell you that I wasn’t very flattered by the assumption.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You sound it.”

  “Shall I abase myself?”

  “Hold on to that thought.”

  “It’s slippery.”

  “Look, I let you beat me at chess, so—”

  “You let me?”

  “I knew that’d wake you up.”

  “Witch.”

  “That’s right. I’m a card-carrying, broom-riding, spell-casting, caldron-stirring witch. Better watch your step.”

  Dallas laughed on a sigh. “Sweetheart, I fell under your spell the night I found a cat burglar in the library.”

  “And just look what happened to me,” she mourned.

  “You were ravished.”

  “I’ll say.”

  He swatted her gently.

  “And I was beaten too.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Oh, is that going to be a surprise for later?”

  “I’m considering it.”

  “How creative.”

  “I’m also considering chaining you to this bed until you agree to marry me,” Dallas said thoughtfully. “But since you’re so good with burglar’s tools….”

  “I’m glad you remembered that. You’ve already got a charge of abduction hanging over your head; no need to add incarceration with intent to ravish.”

  “I abducted you with permission.”

  “I think that’s a contradiction in terms.”

  “The point stands.”

  “We’ll quibble about it later.”

  “What shall we quibble about now?”

  “Breakfast.”

  “It’s the middle of the night,” Dallas protested.

  “I know, but you said tomorrow was Mrs. Bradley’s day off.”

  “So?”

  “So who’s going to fix breakfast?”

  “You mean, you aren’t?” he asked, horrified.

  “I think we’ve got a problem here.”

  “You can’t cook?”

  “There’s been so much else to learn,” Troy explained solemnly.

  “I see.”

  “Can you cook?” she asked.

  “In a pinch.”

  “You’re elected.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. And while we’re at it—”

  “While we’re at it,” he interrupted severely,

  “you managed to rather neatly evade my proposal. And I even swept you off your feet and ordered moonlight this time.”

  “Was that a proposal?” Troy asked interestedly. “It sounded more like you had lecherous designs on my body.”

  “That too.”

  “A package deal, huh?”

  “Right. You’ll get a husband who adores you and can’t let you walk past without grabbing your—”

  “And what’ll you get?” she interrupted hastily, swallowing a laugh.

  “You.” The teasing fell away; he was suddenly grave and tender. “For better or worse…for the rest of our lives. You’ll be a thorn in my flesh, and a look in my eyes no one else will understand. You’ll drive me crazy with your independence, and captivate me again and again with the warmth of you. I’ll fight a constant battle to remember that I can’t lock you away and keep you all to myself, and I’ll love you all the more for that. I’ll have to put up with your insane driving, your hot temper, and your nocturnal activities because all of that is a part of you, and part of the reason I love you.”

  Troy had lifted her head and opened her eyes at last, staring deeply into his blue eyes and wondering dimly if her guardian angel had sent a stranger searching for something to read in the dead of night.

  With difficulty she swallowed the lump in her throat. “It sounds,” she murmured, “as if you’re asking for nothing but trouble.”

  Dallas smiled and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his other arm tightening around her. “No. I don’t expect it to be easy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He laughed softly, a mere thread of sound. “Oh, sweetheart, I really think you have no idea of just how much I love you. I’m not a violent man, but I’d kill for you. Not a jealous man, but I have to fight the urge to keep you beside me every moment. What I thought was obsession in the beginning was love, and it’s gotten stronger with every day that’s passed.” He hesitated, then added, “I can’t…imagine the rest of my life without you beside me.”

  “Dallas…”

  “I know you still need time, Troy. And I want you to be sure. I never thought half a loaf was better than no bread; I have to know that I have all of your love or I’ll get out of your life. Of course, I’ll be hard to convince when it comes to getting out of your life—”

  “Will you let me get a word in?”

  He looked at her a bit warily. “There goes that temper.”

  She glared at him. “I was about to say something before you decided to be so damn understanding about giving me more time.”

  Dallas raised an eyebrow at her. “If you don’t like the understanding, I’ll try the caveman routine. I never thought there was a caveman inside of me, but since I met you—”

  “Dallas.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  Suddenly, ruefully, Troy laughed. “Damn. I really broke the mood, didn’t I?”

  “With a vengeance. It’s a good thing I don’t have a fragile ego,” he told her philosophically.

  Troy sighed, beginning to doodle among the hairs on his chest. It was fascinating to watch. “I just wanted to—to point out that I never would have accepted the ring if I hadn’t been sure.” She looked up, her eyes shining gold. “Dallas, I love you with everything inside of me. I can’t imagine a life without you either.”

  “Troy…”

  She laughed a little unsteadily. “Now don’t start arranging the wedding, all right? We hav
e time.”

  Dallas gently pulled her head down to rest on his chest, holding her close. “So you want to spend the rest of your life with me,” he said chidingly, “but you aren’t sure we’re ready for marriage, is that it?”

  “Well…”

  “Is this the woman I called a lady?”

  “I thought you’d already amended that.”

  “Maybe I should.” He chuckled softly, the sound a rumble in her ear. “Never mind, sweetheart; I’ll get you to the altar eventually.”

  “Such confidence.”

  “Always.”

  “Dallas?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I really do love you.”

  He hugged her tightly. “I love you, too, Troy.”

  She drifted off to sleep, her restless nature oddly at peace.

  “Are you going to sleep all day?”

  Dallas forced his eyes open, battling his normal early-morning reluctance to greet the day. For a moment his mind was totally blank, but then he remembered the night and day before and a sudden energy and awareness raced through him. He pushed himself up on an elbow, realizing only then that Troy had been awake for quite a while.

  She was kneeling beside him on the bed, bright-eyed, her glorious hair tumbled, looking amazingly sexy dressed in his white shirt and nothing else. Dallas reached for her.

  Troy stopped him with a hand placed on his chest. “Breakfast.”

  “That’s what I was reaching for,” he said, wounded.

  She frowned at him reprovingly, then twisted around to reach for a large lap tray at the foot of the bed. “C’mon, sit up, get comfortable. This may very well be a one-shot deal; better take advantage of it.”

  Surprised, Dallas stared down at the very inviting breakfast laid out on the tray. A fluffy omelet, bacon, toast, juice, coffee—all perfectly prepared. “You lied to me!” he accused. “You said you couldn’t cook.”

  Troy picked up a piece of bacon and smiled sunnily at him. “I never lie. I was just pulling your leg.”

  “Well—”

  She held up a hand quickly. “Please. No off-color remarks so early in the morning.”

  “You started it.”

  “Eat your breakfast.”

  “I see you’re going to be a bossy wife.”

  Troy didn’t rise to the bait. “Eat your breakfast,” she repeated calmly.

  Dallas quickly discovered that she’d been pulling his leg with a vengeance, because she was a very good cook. He ended up sharing the food with her, even though she protested that she never ate very much in the morning. Then they shared a bath in the huge tub that had tempted Troy once before.

  “I keep expecting a sign to flash FASTEN SEAT BELTS,” she said in a bemused voice.

  “What?”

  “Well, there are enough gadgets in this tub to fly a jet plane. This, for instance. What’s it for?”

  “Bubbles.”

  “Really? Let’s have some.”

  Dallas started laughing. “That huge house of yours, and not a single Jacuzzi?”

  “Nope. I’ve always relied on utilitarian showers.”

  He watched her in fascination as she luxuriated among the bubbles and made no attempt to hide her utter enjoyment of a new experience. Dallas shook his head. “You are the oddest mixture of sophistication and innocence,” he murmured. “Just when I think you can’t surprise me, you do. I’ll never get bored growing old with you, sweetheart.”

  Darkly she said, “I’m going to turn into a prune instead of growing old, because I don’t want to get out of this tub.”

  He laughed again. “You can stay here only until I finish shaving; then I pull the plug.”

  “I’ll fight you for it,” she declared.

  A gleam was born in his eyes. “On second thought maybe I’ll wait to shave.”

  “Dallas? Good heavens, that’s…that’s kinky.”

  “Complaining?” he murmured.

  “Hell, no…”

  “Were you serious about being my backup man on the next job?” she asked quite some time later as she hung up the phone after a brief conversation with Jamie.

  Dallas, sprawled out on the couch in the den, looked at her warily. “For my sins, yes.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Busy tonight?”

  “I think I’ll be busy learning how to burgle tonight. Dressed all in black, I assume?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He looked reflective. “I’ve always wondered about that. The dressing in black, I mean. Is it just to blend in with the darkness?”

  Cheerfully she said, “It’s mostly that. Also, it tends to scare the hell out of someone to turn on a light and see a stranger dressed in black.”

  Dallas frowned at her for a moment, then nodded. “I see. They’re bound to hesitate, and that gives you an edge.”

  She nodded. “And time. More than once, those few seconds of astonishment have given me time to get out the window.”

  “Shouldn’t the police be looking for a lady cat burglar by now? Since you’ve been seen, I mean?”

  “You forget; the people I burgle don’t dare call the police. It would be a trifle awkward for them to explain that their stolen property was stolen from them.”

  He grinned a little. “You have the best of things, don’t you? The police probably know what you’re doing, and they look the other way: and your victims don’t dare press charges for fear of going to jail themselves.”

  Troy looked at him gravely. “You’re still not quite comfortable with what I do, are you?”

  “No,” he said honestly, catching her hand and pulling her down to his side. “But I’m coming to terms with it. I know that your fee goes to charity, and God knows you aren’t in it for financial gain anyway—”

  “How did you know—” Troy broke off and answered her own question ruefully. “Your little setup. Chris Jordan told you that I wanted the fee given to charity.”

  “He was a bit bewildered by that,” Dallas said wryly.

  “Most of my clients are,” Troy explained, “because most of them live outside this area and don’t know me socially.”

  Dallas looked at her curiously. “Where’s the most distant place you’ve traveled to—uh—burgle?”

  “Actually to break into a house,” she told him tranquilly, “it was South America. But I’ve done some—work in Europe and the Orient.”

  “What kind of work?” Dallas asked in the tone of a man who wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know.

  Troy patted him reassuringly on the cheek. “Don’t worry, darling; I was helping the police—” Before she could finish the sentence, Dallas had caught her in a fierce hug.

  “That’s the first time you’ve called me that,” he said huskily. “And right now, I don’t care if you were helping the Mafia.”

  Returning the hug with interest, she murmured absently, “The Mafia isn’t terribly interested in art objects; they’re far more intrigued by the higher-profit crimes.”

  Dallas smiled wryly at her as he sat back on the couch. “You know a lot about crime and criminals, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  “The mark of a professional,” she told him solemnly, “is research.”

  “And yet you’re not cynical. That’s…odd.”

  Troy looked thoughtful. “Well, crime and sin have always been with us and probably always will be; the only problem I see in dealing with them is confusing the two. What I do may be a crime technically, but it isn’t a sin. I don’t feel guilty about it, and I’m not ashamed of it.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  She gave him a startled look.

  “Really,” he insisted. “Because you know yourself the way very few people ever manage to. And because your eyes are wide open and yet you don’t hesitate to do what you can to help rather than bemoan the fact that the world’s going to hell in a handbasket.” He smiled crookedly. “I saw a poster once that ran something like: Somebody do something! Oh…I’m somebody. There’s no startled realization for y
ou, Troy; you know you’re somebody, and you do something about any problem you see.”

  Troy gazed at him for a moment, then slid her arms around him and hugged. Hard. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Don’t mention it,” he said huskily.

  A few moments later she asked idly, “Are you sure you want to be a burglar tonight?”

  “I’d consider it an honor,” he said determinedly, and Troy giggled.

  “You sound like you’re going before a firing squad.”

  “Visions of irate, burgled victims are dancing in my head.”

  “The victim won’t be at home. That’s why Jamie called me; we’ve had our eye on this place for weeks, but the security system’s been a hard nut to crack.”

  “And now?”

  “We have it on the best authority that the owner’s leaving the city briefly with half his security force, and leaving the painting we want behind.”

  “Whose authority?”

  “His butler’s.”

  Dallas choked on a laugh. “You have no scruples! What’d you do, bribe the guy?”

  Troy swallowed another giggle and replied sedately, “No; Bryce got him drunk.” When Dallas choked again, she said gravely, “There’s an entire underground network of information channels through the domestic staffs in this city. It’s incredible, really. And Bryce has gotten the fine art of subtly extracting information down pat by now. He’s terrific.”

  Looking toward the heavens in a plea, Dallas murmured, “She’s even corrupted her butler. The British lion is having its tail yanked by an upstart American lady cat burglar.”

  “I resent that.”

  “Which?”

  “Upstart. The British stopped calling us Colonials that years ago.”

  “Don’t you believe it.”

  She giggled. “Besides, my French ancestry is awfully close to the surface, you know. And Daddy was half Irish.”

  Dallas groaned. “You had to throw that into the pot. No wonder you have such a temper; if there’s a more combustible mixture than Irish and French, I don’t know what it is.”

  “I do.”

  “You do what?”