She looked up just in time to see the doorknob turn. Then it turned again. A plastic card slid sideways through the door, toward the lock. She heard the snick when the lock gave way.
Sure every hair on her head was standing on end, she stared at the door, her stomach churned, and she grabbed hold of the desk’s edge to keep from leaping out of the chair. She held on, bracing her feet against the desk and pressing the chair against the wall.
Nobody was going to get into this room except Sam.
She’d hold the fort until the cavalry arrived. And then she was going to have Sam beat the stuffing out of this guy for scaring her to death.
The door eased open a smidgen, but not enough to get a hand in. Not past the doorjamb.
Thwack! A shoulder hit the door. She heard a grunt of pain. The sudden noise had her clenching her teeth and bracing for the next assault. Thwack! This time the desk slid back an inch and the door left the jamb.
Black-gloved fingers eased around the door, gripping for another push.
Bebe scrambled across the desk and threw her whole hundred and five pounds against the door.
The scream of pain from the intruder drowned out the shrill cry of the approaching siren.
The fingers jerked free of the door, leaving the glove trapped when the door snapped shut.
Above the sound of the siren as it turned off Francisco and headed in her direction, she heard the sound of pounding footsteps and the slam of the back door when it hit the wall.
She could breathe. She inhaled, exhaled. Sam was going to have a fit.
“Bebe! Bebe! Goddammit, answer me!”
Hadn’t she just said he was going to have a fit?
“Bebe!” Suddenly she realized there was real terror in Sam’s voice, and she reached for the door.
“I’m here,” she yelled. “I’m okay. I’m in the office.”
Sam hit the door, the door hit the desk, and the desk shoved the chair into the wall, bending the seat in half. Bebe grabbed the monitor to keep it from flying to the floor, but couldn’t save the keyboard.
“Bebe, open the damn door.”
“I can’t,” Bebe wailed. “The desk is in the way. And you just broke my new chair!” The tears poured. She was probably going to get electrocuted by crying into the monitor she still clutched to her bosom, but she couldn’t seem to move. She sat crumpled in the middle of the old oak desk and sobbed.
She’d never been so scared in her whole life. And she’d never been so glad to hear someone’s voice. Sam’s voice.
She loved the sound of his voice. Even when he was yelling. She just plain loved Sam.
She really loved Sam. Merde.
And that made her cry all the harder.
…
Sam managed to wedge himself between the door and the jamb, enough to reach around to push the desk sideways. Then he was through the door, plucking the monitor out of Bebe’s grasp and her into his arms. The monitor teetered on the desk edge. He grabbed for it with one hand, hugging his pixie tight with the other.
“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, I’m okay now. But I was so scared. I couldn’t get out without him seeing me. I didn’t know what else to do.”
She had her arms wrapped around his neck, her face tucked tight under his jaw. Her body trembled, and her hot tears scalded his skin.
He turned to settle onto the solid oak desk; his own knees felt like melting Jell-O and he pulled her onto his lap. He wanted as much of him touching as much of her as he could manage. “You did exactly the right thing. Contacting Felix was pure genius.”
“You really think so?” she whispered between tiny sobs.
“Absolutely. Genius. I’m the one who screwed up. I should have been here on time.” With Bebe perched across his thighs, he reached for a wad of Kleenex out of the box of tissues sitting on top of the nearest file cabinet and made an attempt to stem the flow of her tears.
“You couldn’t have anticipated this happening,” she said between hiccups and sobs, “any more than I could.” Bebe took the tissues, dabbing her tears, then blowing her reddened nose. “You really got here fast. Did you tell Felix I’m okay?”
“No. I’ve been a little busy trying not to have a heart attack.” He took the mangled hanky and tossed it into the trash. He handed her another tissue.
A hard knock sounded on the door. “You folks all right in there?”
Sam twisted around to confront one of the officers who’d arrived in a black-and-white as he’d pulled up to Waterston’s alley entrance. He’d seen a man in black sprinting toward the corner, but his first priority had been to make sure Bebe was safe. “Did you catch that guy?”
“No. We lost him. Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Bebe blotted her eyes again and raised her head from his shoulder. “Now,” she said, petting his chest.
Sam looked into tear-bright amber eyes and assessed the trembly smile. She would be fine, but he doubted he’d ever regain the years he’d lost off his life. The whole time he’d been racing through the streets of San Francisco, he’d imagined Bebe in the hands of some crazed maniac. It made him shudder and then grit his teeth to stop the reaction.
“Do you think you could give us a description of your intruder?”
Sam hugged Bebe tighter and, all pretense of charm and civility long gone, snarled at the officer. “Miss Waterston has had a traumatic experience. Give us a few minutes.”
Bebe patted him gently.
Sam took a steadying breath. Chewing on these guys wouldn’t help matters, but dammit to hell, he felt like taking a chunk out of somebody.
He unclenched his jaw.
Bebe pulled his head down so she could whisper in his ear. “I feel much better. You can put me down now.”
“I’m not sure I can do that,” he whispered back.
“It’ll be fine. You can hold my hand.”
Her grin sent his heart into a tailspin. God, she’d scared him. What the hell would he have done if something had happened to her?
What the hell could be so important that someone would go to these lengths to get it? It had to be a whole lot more than bonbon recipes.
Chapter Nineteen
It was one thing to feel like the victim in a hostile takeover, Bebe thought, but quite another to be under open physical attack from someone she didn’t even know. She couldn’t stop shivering. She’d tried to put on a calm front for Sam and the two officers who’d taken her statement. She didn’t want to look like a big wuss, but she didn’t really think she’d fooled anyone, especially not Sam. He hadn’t stopped touching her since he’d practically shoved the desk through the factory wall. And now she was scared enough to admit his concern made her feel a great deal better, if only to herself.
By the time they arrived in the parking garage at Sam’s condo, he’d ordered his security people to mount a round-the-clock watch on Waterston’s and the Victorian and had Felix on the phone.
“The police were willing to help, but without a definitive description, a motive other than random theft, or traceable fingerprints—which they ruled out because of the glove he left behind in the doorjamb—there really isn’t a whole lot they can do. They can’t even put a trace on stolen merchandise, because the bastard didn’t take anything.” He ushered her into the elevator and pushed the button for the seventeenth floor. “And that’s about it. Another dead end. The officers advised upgrading security measures and split.”
Sam had double-checked every lock in the factory, muttering under his breath the whole time. When they’d finally gotten to the back exit, Bebe had reset the alarm, listened to Sam’s snort of disbelief, and then let him escort her to his car.
There was nothing she could say. She realized the factory’s security measures wouldn’t keep out a professional thief if her office door could be breached with a credit card, but she’d never considered her business high risk for break-ins. Unless there was a deranged chocoholic running th
e streets…
After talking to Felix, he called the head of the Sugarman security division at home and lit into the poor man who’d had the bad luck to be asleep. Bebe realized his frustration level had just about gone over the top.
Sam’s outrage on her behalf and his immediate actions to protect her and Waterston’s drew her out of her shock.
In the safety of his embrace, her fear had quickly turned to anger and then to frustration at being no closer to finding the culprit.
When she’d been sitting next to him in the car, listening to him take on the world for her, she’d begun to be aware of Sam in a very intense, very elemental way. A way she’d never experienced before.
The restless feeling built from breasts to belly, a hunger she couldn’t subdue. She’d never felt this clawing, throbbing need for anyone in her life. Ever since Sam had broken through the door and swept her into his powerful embrace, she realized her fear and anger had swelled into desire that only Sam could satisfy.
By the time they’d arrived at his building, she could hardly meet his gaze, and she knew his demeanor had changed as well.
Did he sense her need? Her desire?
The intensity in his expression, the tautness across his cheeks, and the speculation in his eyes increased the edginess already threatening to overwhelm her. If the way she felt now could be attributed to the adrenaline rush she’d suffered earlier, she didn’t care.
She wanted him. Now.
When the elevator doors slid silently open on Sam’s floor, she rushed down the pale gray corridor to his door and turned, feeling irritated beyond bearing when he wasn’t right there with the door key. She had the insane urge to stamp both feet and demand he hurry.
She found the faint smile around his mouth extremely annoying.
It took all the patience she could muster not to snatch the key out of his hand and open the door.
He finally gave the heavy oak panel a push. Bebe stepped over the threshold and swung on Sam. She grabbed him by the shirtfront with both fists.
“You should kiss me now.” She gave his shirt a sharp tug. “Right now.”
“Your wish, as the saying goes…” He opened his mouth over hers. His taste on her lips made her need more savage. She relished the small invasion, sucking his tongue, even more excited by the need she sensed in his response.
Bebe rubbed her hands hard up his shirtfront, and his heavy chest muscles flexed under her palms. She wanted to feel his strength. She clasped her hands at the back of his neck and savored the power in that impressive column. As he loomed over her, lips melded to hers, arms surrounding her, shoulders blocking everything else from view, Bebe thought she might have Sam exactly where she wanted him. At that moment in time, he was the world, and nothing else mattered.
She arched into him, pressing her aching breasts to his chest. His responding groan sent an exquisite shudder through her whole body. Heat rocketed through her.
Bebe sank her fingers into his thick hair and broke the kiss.
“Oh, God, I need you,” Sam gasped.
“I need you more.”
As he slowly straightened, Bebe slid her hands down his chest, both grasping his shirt once again.
He glanced down at the hold she had on him and then back to her face. His expression became almost predatory. Hard and sexy. “You’re sure about that? You’re not just toying with me?”
“If I am, you’re the best toy I’ve ever had.”
His crack of laughter eased her desperation, but not her intent. She tugged him forward and heard the door slam behind him.
Bebe backed down the short hall into the living room, one hand still clutching his shirt, the other trying to undo his sleek silver belt buckle. Her fingers felt clumsy, shaking with the need to get him out of all these clothes. She gave it a sharp twist. “Dammit, come loose.”
“Need some help, princess?”
“No.”
“At least let me help you—” His hands went to the hem of her sweater.
“Yeah, okay.” Bebe grabbed the turtleneck sweater at the waist and whipped it over her head. He had his hands on her bare skin before she could even toss it aside. As he guided her backward, the slightly roughened touch of his fingertips at her waist sent thrills surging through her pelvis.
Backing into Sam’s carved credenza brought them to a sudden halt. The unexpected contact startled her, and she sat down hard on the old oak chest.
Sam went down on his knees in front of her.
“You should kiss me now.”
He’d eased his hands under her skirt, moving up her thighs.
“I should? Right. I should.”
To her hips.
“Kiss you.” All she could think about was the incredible things his big hands could do to her body.
He had a grip on her tights at the waist, forcing her to lift her hips so he could sweep them off her legs along with her boots. Her black silk panties slid away, too, and leaning back against the hard wood, she could feel the soft cashmere of her skirt on her bare bottom. The texture became another erotic assault on her senses, like the slightly abrasive touch of Sam’s fingertips.
“You’ve got to stop wearing so many clothes,” he said, clicking open the front clasp of her bra. He pressed his face to the valley between her breasts. “Oh, baby,” he murmured.
After shoving his jacket off his shoulders, she tugged his belt loose and went for the buttons on his shirt. “You should have snaps on this shirt. Look at these buttons—there must be a dozen and you need a magnifying glass to see them—”
Sam stopped fussing with the button on her skirt, reached for his shirtfront, and gave a mighty yank. Tiny buttons went flying in all directions. “Happy?”
Bebe’s hands slid up the contour of his bare chest. “Ummm—yes. That’s much better.”
The waistband on her skirt released, and the soft wool fabric rushed along her thighs, baring her bottom to the cold wood surface. Sam took one straining nipple into his mouth, and sent a hot hand gliding up her flesh to the apex of her thighs. Her whole body burned like a flash fire. His touch was electric. His kiss sizzled across sensitized skin until he reached the tender flesh just below her belly button. She thought she would fly apart into thousands of crystal shards. “Oh my God. Sam!”
“I’m right here.” He slipped his shirt off and flipped it behind her. “Lie back. Let me taste you.”
His eyes glowed like molten lead with a hunger, she knew, only she could assuage.
She made no protest when he moved between her spread legs and lifted her thighs to his shoulders. Propped on her elbows, she watched Sam make love to her with the most intimate kiss a man could bestow.
His tongue flicking across the sensitive nub of feminine flesh sent sensations radiating in a flood tide through her body. Pure exquisite torture. When Sam eased one finger, then two, into her sheath, pressing upward, and swirled his tongue insistently around the small nubbin of sensitivity, lightning pulsed on every nerve ending. She threw her head back, uttered a shrill wail, saw stars in a sky of white, and bucked in Sam’s grip.
While she rode the crest of release, he held her hard and laved her to completion until the last shudder stopped.
Sam stood and scooped her into his arms.
As he carried her down the hall and into his bedroom, Bebe wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head languidly on his shoulder. Turning her face into his neck, she nuzzled the skin below his ear where his scent seemed more intense.
“I want to taste you, too,” she whispered, taking his earlobe between her teeth and giving him a soft nip.
“Hold that thought.”
Sam lowered her to the bed with exquisite care and came down beside her.
Bebe ran her hands through his hair and scattered soft kisses around his mouth.
“This won’t work.”
“What won’t work?”
“You have on entirely too many clothes for what I have in mind.” She pulled her skirt up so
she could straddle Sam, and proceeded to remove the rest of his clothing.
Undressing Sam became an erotic exercise of exploration. Touching, exposing, tasting. And there was so much of him to enjoy. She especially liked all the little groans and sighs. Powerful fists clutched the sheets and then reached for her.
She’d never been this intimate with a man’s anatomy, but with Sam she felt completely free. Taking Sam into her mouth felt natural, and she relished the response each lick and tiny nibble elicited.
He groaned as she took him deep into her mouth. Running her tongue down the underside of his penis caused the engorged vein there to throb, and with her continued stroking he got even harder. Wanting to see how much more intense his reaction would be, she cupped his sack and rolled his balls softly side to side.
“Ahh, God, babe.”
Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her up his body.
“Take this off.” Her skirt, rucked up around her waist, was the only bit of clothing left between them. The popped button and the open zipper remedied the barrier. Another condom was secured. This one she rolled on like an expert and grinned down at him.
He groaned as he lifted her to ease himself into her welcoming warmth, and then they were flying together into paradise.
Chapter Twenty
The sunlight, so rare on a San Francisco morning, flooded through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls and bathed Bebe’s copper curls in a soft golden glow. Wearing shades of green Sam never would have thought to put together, she looked like a woodland nymph. And, as such creatures are wont to do, she could disappear in the blink of an eye, and leave a man wondering if he’d just imagined her.
He could not—would not—let that happen.
She looked perfect in his gray-flannel living room.
She added the bright color his life so desperately needed. Waking up with her in his arms, making love to her while still drugged from dreams of her, this was what he wanted. What he was determined to have.
He accepted the steamy cup of coffee she’d poured for him and tried to get his mind back on track. A different track.
“What the hell is this guy really after?” he asked. This seemed like the crucial question that, when answered correctly, would lead them to the person responsible for all the trouble. “A professional criminal would not break into a candy factory—the stakes aren’t high enough—unless he was after something very specific.”
Bride by Chocolate (Death by Chocolate) Page 17