by LETO, JULIE
She scooted forward and pressed her hand between the waistband of his briefs and his bare flesh, encircling his cock completely. She constricted her fingers and the exquisite pressure nearly squeezed him out of his skin. To counter his impending loss of control, he nuzzled her breasts and blazed a matching trail up her legs with his hands.
“Oh, yes,” she said.
Under her skilled ministrations, he grew harder than an uncut diamond. She tugged and taunted, teasing his head with her thumb, sending shockwaves of fire throughout his system.
Though his lips were mere inches from hers, he could not tear his gaze away from her pupils. Even when he pressed her legs apart and reached beneath her skirt to find her panties damp with need, her eyes remained a steady and unwavering brown.
His brain tripped, but the sudden sense that something was wrong disappeared under the power of her mouth on his. She kissed him hard, thrusting her tongue deep while she stroked him. In seconds, he could think of nothing but matching her need by unleashing his.
He removed her panties and his slacks. While she cleared away the detritus from his desk with one swipe of her arm, he ripped into his pocket and retrieved a condom. Without a single thought to slow, measured seduction, he snapped the latex over his engorged flesh, lifted her onto the polished mahogany and pushed into her.
“Alex,” she said. “Yes, Alex. God, yes.”
He lifted her blouse, tore aside the cups of her bra and took the whole of her areola into his mouth, biting and nipping and suckling her until she cried out again, this time her words nonsensical. He drove deep and hard into her warm, tight wetness, his balls slapping painfully against the edge of the desk.
But he didn’t care. He simply scooted her forward so that her amazing ass cushioned the blows.
“Dios mio, Lucienne. Me vuelves loco.”
And then he told her, in the coarsest language he knew, how he would not stop until she screamed in pleasure.
She replied with another long litany of “Yes, yes, yes.”
He buoyed her hips with his hands, adjusting his thrusts until the pitch of her cries peaked. He increased the tempo and depth, and with one last, long stroke set off an explosion of sensation that rocked him to his core.
When he was certain he wouldn’t pass out from lack of air, he kissed her again, still inside her, still wanting her, even though they were both sweaty and spent.
He withdrew from her long enough to dispense with the condom in the adjacent washroom and return with a damp towel, which he used to smooth the perspiration from her body, starting with the swollen pink flesh between her thighs.
For a long instant, she allowed him this intimacy—long enough for him to realize that he wanted to be with Lucienne, not just for one night or even a succession of nights, but for the full breadth of a relationship. He did not know how long they would last. That hardly mattered. But he didn’t think he could live with himself if he didn’t take this chance to explore every intimacy, every conversation, every experience a man and a woman could share together.
And that could take a very long time.
Alex slid the towel up her bare thighs, across her middle and then around her red, freshly bitten breasts. He bent forward so that he could use his tongue to soothe the tiny welts he’d put there with his teeth, but she braced her hands firmly on his shoulders and pushed him back.
“Alex, don’t,” she said.
He obeyed, watching in confusion as she rolled off the desk and attempted to straighten her top.
“Lucienne?”
She nearly tripped over him in her haste to retrieve her panties and skirt. “We have to go.”
He dressed quickly, but not without keeping his gaze locked on Lucienne as she lingered in the doorway, swatting at her hair to tame the tangled locks, but not looking in the mirror that was only a few steps away.
Once he was dressed, he locked the portfolio documenting the ring’s origins inside the floor safe and then joined her in the doorway. He attempted to cup her elbow, but her infinitesimal movement away from him was effective.
“Lucienne,” he started, then stopped. He knew he should apologize, but he couldn’t quite wrap his tongue around the words. He was not sorry. She’d initiated this unplanned tryst and he could not regret that he’d succumbed. The experience had been fast and furious—but no less amazing than last night’s slow seduction.
She pressed her hand to his chest and looked up at him. Her gaze only met his for an instant before she engaged in a fruitless attempt to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt. “I’m sorry, Alex. I mean, I’m not sorry we made love again. I’ve fantasized about a hundred different ways we would make love inside this auction house, and on top of your desk was at the top of the list.”
“But?” Taking her hand into his, he kissed the center of her palm.
She made a tiny squeak of protestation before pulling completely out of his grasp.
“My apartment. We’ve probably missed the locksmith.”
He shook his head. “When I called, I offered him his daily rate by the hour if he waited for us. I have no doubt he’s stayed.”
“Oh,” she said. “Great… I mean, that’s so generous.”
She was backing up in the gallery and stumbled over an upturned column. He hurried forward to catch her, but she waved him off.
“I need space, Alex,” she insisted. “Time to think.”
“Think about what? I want to be with you, Lucienne. Don’t you want the same?”
Though she shook her head, she couldn’t seem to push out any more words with which to bolster her weak denial. He could not argue that things were progressing rapidly. In any other circumstances, he might have been the one grasping for an excuse to put some distance between them, especially with a woman who challenged everything he’d ever believed about relationships and sex.
But with Lucienne, he had no fear, no desire to retreat. He did not know whether he should blame the ring’s legend or the power of his undeniable chemical connection to Lucienne. Or was his longing for her a progression from the man he’d been before she sauntered into his life and the man he was becoming now that he’d put his resentments aside?
In the short time since he and Lucienne had become lovers, Alex felt transformed. He was no longer the person he’d been when he left Spain—obsessed with work and honor and appearances of success. He no longer hated the father who’d abandoned him as a child. In fact, he felt a slight pang of gratitude. If not for Ramon’s wandering ways, Alex never would have had a brother, never would have come to San Francisco. Never would have met Lucienne.
The revelation rocked him back on his heels. Maybe they did need some time apart.
He straightened, first his spine, and then his clothes. “Perhaps you are right. Distance could serve us both.”
For good measure, he slipped off his father’s ring. He scanned the desk for the inlaid box, which had been knocked unceremoniously to the ground. He shoved the ring inside and reopened the floor safe.
“You’re not going to leave it there, are you?” she asked. “That kind of safe could be cracked by an amateur.”
He glanced up into her shocked expression. “If the amateur knows it is here, I suppose. They showed no interest in it yesterday and I have no reason to suspect they’ll come back.”
She dropped to her knees beside him and locked her hand around his. This time, when their eyes met, she did not look away.
“Don’t leave the ring behind, Alex. Please. It’s worth too much.”
She had no idea how true her appraisal was. The ring was priceless, not only because it connected him to his family, but because it would forever tether him to Lucienne.
For that reason alone, he knew he’d never part with it.
“The first time I wore this ring was when we made love,” he explained, retrieving it from the box and slipping it back onto his hand. “It connects us, Lucienne. It always will, whether you like it or not.”
13
/> THE TROUBLE WAS, Lucienne did like it. Very much.
After convincing Alex to keep the ring with him, they’d returned to the car. If he sensed her continued wariness, he had no clue to the true root cause. His confession about his connection to her and the ring had cut her deeper than any double-edged blade. How could he know that the piece of jewelry that he thought bound them together was actually the wedge that would drive them apart?
Not because she was going to take it, though she now understood why a collector might risk a daylight robbery to get it. With the documentation Ramon had amassed, the ring’s value had increased beyond the sum of its parts. Lucy’s mind whirred, trying to connect the many collectors she’d done business with over the years—the collectors Danny had worked with—who’d go to such lengths to procure such a treasure, but no one came immediately to mind.
Danny needed to know the truth about the ring, and he needed to tell Lucy everything he knew about who wanted it from him and why. Before Alex had shared the ring’s history with her, she’d been able to delude herself that the robbery could have been random. Now, she knew better. She did not believe in coincidences. The thieves had specifically targeted jewelry. They’d stolen her purse, but left perfectly sellable items behind, like the jeweled dagger. Somehow, someone other than Danny knew that she was working for the auction house—and until she found out otherwise, she had to operate on the assumption that they were after the ring, too.
Her life, and Alex’s, had been put in danger. She had to get to Danny right away, before either one of them got hurt. She believed in her heart that if Danny had known his brother—truly knew Alex’s heart the way Lucy did now—he never would have asked her to steal their family legacy or put his brother in harm’s way.
Danny wasn’t exactly scrupulous, but he wasn’t cruel. More than anyone, she knew his innate kindness and loyalty. And she had Alex’s check. With it, she hoped to buy off whoever had decided to trade Danny’s safety for the ring. Or at least, buy them some time.
But none of this changed her predicament with Alex. She’d still deceived him about who she was. And she’d continued to lie long after trust had cemented their bond. When he’d stood up to Michael on her behalf. When they’d made love—not once, but twice.
She’d had chance after chance to tell him why she’d really come to work for him.
But she couldn’t run from the truth anymore. As soon as they returned to her apartment, she had to come clean. Alex deserved to know the whole story, so he could protect himself. So he could protect the ring. So he could despise her the way she deserved.
The minute she made the decision, the trip to the apartment building seemed to happen in a flash. Oblivious to her dread, Alex asked the driver to pull up next to the locksmith, who was, as he’d assured her, waiting patiently in his van, drinking a latte. Together, they went into the lobby and met the building super—a young, artistic, twenty-something known as Dice, who always dressed either in all black or all white, save for one dot of the opposite color. Today, he looked like the Good Humor man who’d sat in a pool of ink.
He smacked the air near Lucy’s cheek with a kiss.
“Damned cretins,” he said, his voice lilting with outrage. “None of the neighbors heard a thing. Did they get anything irreplaceable?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, trying not to think about the one stolen item she’d never get back—Alex’s trust. “I haven’t been inside since the break-in.”
Dice gave Alejandro and the locksmith a cold appraisal, though his gaze heated when he returned to Alex for a second stare.
She slipped her hand into Alex’s arm. She hadn’t meant to be territorial, but her time with him was growing shorter. Dice gave her a sassy smile and whacked her lightly on the shoulder.
“Well, you seem to have everything under control now. Give me a buzz if you need anything repaired. I’d have changed your locks myself, but that’s the one craft I’ve never mastered. I can install security cameras and alarms, though, so let me know.”
After he left and they started up to her third-floor apartment, Alex said, “Friend of yours?”
“I wish,” she said honestly. What she wouldn’t have given for a real friend right now, one with no ties to illegal activity or Danny or her past. Someone who’d let her cry on their shoulder over all she was about to lose.
Alex arched an eyebrow.
“I haven’t had much time to make friends with anyone here, but Dice has been sweet,” she replied. “I only moved in here a week before I started at El Dorado, and in case you haven’t noticed, the boss there is a real taskmaster and doesn’t leave a lot of time for socializing.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Despite the lack of belongings inside her apartment, it was still a shock to see the place in disarray. She had only Michael’s word that the scattering of her clothes and up-ending of her dresser drawers had been done by thieves rather than a rogue FBI agent on a mission. Of course, if he’d been the one to discover her hiding place in the air vent, he would have revealed what he’d found. With her real driver’s license and credit cards, he could have proved to Alex that his appraiser—and now lover—was not who she said she was.
A fact she’d reveal to Alex once the locks were changed and they were alone.
“Did they take much?” Alex asked, exploring the apartment while the locksmith got to work removing the destroyed doorknob.
From a pile on the floor, she picked up a sweet pink nightie she’d brought with her from home. For a split second, she imagined what Alex might think of her in it—especially after she’d returned her hair to its natural reddish brown and wore her favorite plum eyeliner to coax out the full depth of her green eyes.
For the first time in forever, she yearned to embrace her true self—the woman she’d become thanks to her roller-coaster ride of a childhood, topsy-turvy love life and fun-house career choice. Without her past, she would not have been able to pull off the impersonation of Lucienne Bonet. Without her past, she would never have met and started to fall in love with Alex.
Because that’s what was happening, she realized, as her heart and throat constricted even as her fingers tightened on the diaphanous shell-pink baby doll. Who would have thought that the one time that she opened herself up enough to fall in love would be the one time she was pretending to be someone else?
Suddenly, his dark-skinned hand appeared beneath hers, cupping her fingers along with the lingerie.
“Mmm,” he said, leaning in close so that the locksmith wouldn’t hear what he was saying, “I think I’d like to see a little more of your secret wardrobe.”
She chuckled humorlessly. “This is the only one.”
“We should remedy that,” he declared.
She looked up and met his gaze straight on. Okay, enough was enough. She needed to rip the bandage from the wound.
“Alex, we have to talk.”
He pulled his hand away. “Querida, I didn’t mean—”
She mustered the last of her resolve and touched his cheek. She couldn’t do this. Not yet. Not when they weren’t alone. “Why don’t you go back to the auction house while I start cleaning up this mess?”
And what a mess it was.
“I can help.”
She shook her head. “You should call Michael, go back to work and start putting the gallery back together. I’ll meet you there soon, I promise.”
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Alex and Lucy looked up. Standing in the doorway between the living room and bedroom was a man holding a gun.
A man Lucy had seen before.
Instinctively, Alex shoved her behind him. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Ask Lucy,” the man said. “She knows me, don’t cha, Luce? I liked you better as a fiery redhead, but I guess a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to get the job done, right?”
Alex cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “Lucienne? Do you know this man?”
/>
She started to shake her head, but stopped. Both denial and confession caught in her throat.
She’d never wanted Alex to learn the truth about her. She’d wanted to walk away. Disappear. Leave him with a mysterious, evocative memory of a woman who, for a brief moment in time, loved him with all her heart and soul.
Unfortunately, she’d never been that woman. Yes, she cared about him. Yes, with time, she might have truly fallen helplessly and hopelessly in love with him. But forever and always, she’d only be a woman who’d lied to him and who, in this moment, caused him to lose the one and only piece of his father he’d ever possessed.
“I remember you,” she admitted to the gunman, pushing aside her regrets and focusing only on saving their lives. “You weaseled a referral out of one of my regular clients three years ago. Baxter. Boxer. Braxton.” She knew his name was unusual, not the sort of moniker normally associated with a two-bit hood. “You needed me to move merchandise from a foreclosed house. Easy pickings. Slim, too. My commission barely bought me a manicure.”
The man’s sneer twisted his face into a grotesque mask, but Lucy didn’t flinch. Now wasn’t the time to show weak-ness—or worry about what Alex thought about her. Right now, she had to concentrate on keeping them out of the morgue.
“I’ve moved on to bigger and better things now,” the gunman said.
“That business transaction was our first and last,” she said.
“Yeah, well, this time, you ain’t getting a piece of the action.”
A few feet away, the locksmith’s drill continued to whine and whir. Either the guy was in on this, or he’d been knocked out with his tools still running, which had the added effect of masking any shouts for help—or perhaps even gunfire.
“What do you want?” Lucy asked, knowing the answer even as the question left her lips.
“What do you think?” The man tilted the gun toward Alex’s hand, which he’d held out in front of Lucy as if his ancestor’s ring could somehow protect her from a bullet.
“My ring?” Alex asked. “It’s not worth anything to you. I have cash in my wallet that exceeds its worth on the open market.”