“God, you feel so good, Sara,” he growled as his hips came to a rest against her inner thighs. “So. Damn. Good.”
Sara opened her mouth to agree, he started moving again and suddenly, she couldn’t speak. All she could do was feel. The heat of his body flush against hers. The wetness of his mouth. The exquisite friction as he slid in and out of her body. Dear God, there was just too much to feel.
Too much, too soon.
Her fingertips bit into his shoulders. Her eyes closed and her back arched. Her mouth opened and she cried out, as she came again.
Mason was right there with her.
His back tensed, and she could feel his muscles surging as his cock spasmed deep inside her.
Sara held on tight, riding out every last second of the wave with him.
By the end, she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, limp against the mattress, gasping for breath. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked up into the sparkling jewels of his blue eyes. A tender smile lifted his lips.
“Looks like I’ll have to wash the sheets after all,” he teased.
Sara giggled.
“I think it can wait until morning,” she said.
Mason rolled over to her side, wrapping his arm around her as he went and pulling her next to him.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He reached over and grabbed the corner of the covers. With one hard tug, he folded them over their bodies.
“You know, we could take the extra second to actually get under the sheets,” she said.
Mason responded by pulling her even closer. Her bottom nestled against his crotch. Her back was flat against his chest. His chin rested on the top of her head.
“But why should we bother, when this feels perfect?”
Sara let out a long breath, letting her body relax into the warmth of his embrace.
After all, he was right.
This was perfect.
She only wondered, as her eyes began to close, how long it would last.
Chapter Eleven
Morning came too soon.
Mason tried to keep his eyes closed as the sunlight filtering in through the tinted windows started to prick the back of his eyelids, but it was no good. His body had been trained for too long to rise at first light, no matter how tempting it was to sleep in.
And, God knew, he’d never been tempted like he was right now.
His arms were still wrapped around Sara’s sleeping body. Sometime in the night, she’d turned in his embrace, and rested her head against his chest. He could feel the shallow gentle puffs of her breath caressing his bare skin. Their legs were entwined, and her arms tucked in tight against his belly.
Which, of course, put her hands dangerously close to his groin.
His cock stirred at the mere thought.
Well, he was truly up now.
The corners of his mouth pulled up as he looked at the top of her tousled chestnut hair. Maybe, he had this all wrong. Maybe, waking up early wasn’t so bad after all. It only gave them more hours in the day to be…close to one another.
Mason tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. Sara began to stir in his arms, and mumbled something he didn’t quite catch.
“Excuse me,” he said.
She tilted her face up. Her red-rimmed eyes were still closed. Little lines from the wrinkles in the sheets were imprinted on her cheek. Even so, she was downright adorable.
“Coffee,” she said louder.
Mason snuggled up a little closer. “I was thinking of another way we could wake up.”
“After coffee,” she shot him down. “All things after coffee.”
“You didn’t need a cup yesterday,” he said.
“That’s because I woke up to someone trying to kill me. The adrenaline got me going. This morning I need coffee.” She cracked one eyelid and peeked up at him. “Besides, you still owe me one from that day at the museum, remember? You’re not trying to get out of your promise are you?”
“Of course not,” he said, pulling back the sheet. “I guess I’ll go make us a pot.”
“No need,” she said. “It’s already brewed.”
Mason shook his head as he stepped down onto the floor and picked up his pants. “No, it’s not.”
“Sure it is,” Sara said, sitting up. She dragged a hand through her hair, smoothing it out. “I can smell it.”
Mason was in the middle of zipping his pants when he froze.
Damn it. She was right.
He’d been so preoccupied with getting back to the heaven between Sara’s legs that he hadn’t noticed the delicious aroma drifting into the room.
He snapped his head toward his closed bedroom door. He listened for any sound coming from the rest of the apartment.
Sara must have noticed the change in his demeanor, because she shifted on the bed, covering herself.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I didn’t set up the coffee maker to brew automatically,” he whispered. “Someone might be out there.”
They were both quiet for a long moment, but Mason only heard silence.
“Are you sure?” Sara asked, after a moment had passed. “Maybe you just forgot doing it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Who the hell breaks into an apartment just to brew coffee?” she whispered.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.” Mason moved silently and gently opened the bedside table drawer. He pulled out his Glock, and held the weapon at his side as he walked to the door. “Stay here.”
He wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and slowly turned it. He didn’t know why he was bothering to be so quiet. If an intruder was out there, he had to know that Mason and Sara were up and talking. Which meant, with every passing second, he was losing the element of surprise.
Raising his weapon, Mason threw open the door and rushed into his living room…and found James, the jewel thief, leaning against his kitchen counter, mug in hand.
“Good morning,” the man said. He made a show of blowing the steam away from his mug. He didn’t appear armed.
Still, Mason didn’t lower his weapon. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I made you some of this coffee,” James said, avoiding the question. “I have to admit, I’m still developing my appreciation for the stuff, but yours seems tastier than most.”
Mason narrowed his eyes. He inched forward. “You broke into my apartment just to make yourself a cup of coffee?”
“Of course not,” James said. “You two were asleep when I got here. I thought I’d do the polite thing, and make you some in case you needed a cup when you woke up.”
“How the hell did you get up here?” he demanded. “You shouldn’t have been able to get past security.”
“Honestly, it wouldn’t be that hard.” Sara’s voice sounded behind him. “It would only take about fifteen seconds to bypass the card reader in the elevator.”
So much for staying put.
Mason spun around. Sara stood in the open bedroom doorway, wearing his oxford shirt from last night. Even in its highly wrinkled state, it hung down almost to her knees. She looked ridiculously sexy.
Mason’s shoulders stiffened when James cleared his throat. Apparently, Mason wasn’t the only one who thought so.
“Only seven seconds,” James said.
“Really?” Sara said, sounding impressed. “You must have a lot more experience with them.”
“Just a better set of tools,” he said. “Though I’d be happy to show you my technique if you’re interested.”
“She’s not,” Mason answered for her.
“Is that right?” James asked.
“It is.” Sara pushed away from the door, and started walking toward the kitchen. “But I am interested in one of those cups of coffee.”
“Sara,” Mason warned, but she walked right on past.
“I’m pretty sure you can put your gun down, Mason,” she said, jumping up onto the same stool she’d sat in last night. “If James wa
s going to hurt us, he would have done it while we were asleep. If he was after the necklace he would have taken it.”
Mason waited another second before reluctantly lowering his weapon, and engaging the safety. “So, he’s James now?”
“It’s the only name he’s given us,” she said.
“How do you take your coffee?” the thief asked as he dug into Mason’s cupboards and pulled down two mugs.
“With a splash of milk,” Sara answered.
“And let me guess, black for you?” James asked Mason.
He nodded. “The question still stands. Why are you here?”
“Well, that’s a funny story.” James pushed the mugs across the counter when he was done pouring. “There were a couple of men waiting for me last night when I returned to my apartment after following you two home.”
“Wait,” Mason said, his mug halfway to his mouth. “You followed us here?”
“Of course,” James said. “How else would I have figured out where you live?”
Mason glanced over at Sara. “Did you know he was tailing us?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But it doesn’t surprise me. He’s very good.”
James smiled widely at the compliment. A charming smile, Mason was sure.
His lips dipped down into a scowl. “Go on,” he growled.
“Like I said, there were two men. Tall. Fair. Strange accents.”
“Unlike yours,” Mason said.
“Exactly,” James said.
Mason guessed that sarcasm had a way of flying right over the man’s head. “What did they want?”
“The same thing you did,” James said. “The necklace.”
“The Russians,” Sara said, her eyes going wide. “I’m so sorry. They must have found you by following us. Did they hurt you?”
James leaned back against the counter, practically basking in her attention. “They tried.”
“And?” she asked.
“It didn’t work out the way they planned.”
Mason put his mug back down on the counter. “What did you do to them?”
James’ gaze suddenly turned as sharp as steel as he met Mason’s. “Do you really want to know the answer?”
The man had a point. He probably didn’t. Especially not if the cops were likely to come asking. Besides, it wasn’t like he needed to go looking for extra trouble. It seemed to find him just fine all by itself.
“Like Sara said, sorry for the trouble,” Mason said. “But I can’t let you lay low here if that’s what you’re hoping.”
“It’s not.” James took a moment to let his gaze sweep over Mason’s apartment. “Though I must admit that I am envious of your living arrangement. I can really see myself in a place like this, can’t you?”
Mason’s mouth flattened. “The sales center is down in the lobby. Now why the hell are you here?”
An amused smile flickered on James’ face. The man obviously enjoyed goading him. Mason wasn’t overly annoyed at the realization. Let the man have his fun, just as long as James remembered which one of them was holding a loaded weapon.
“Actually, I’ve come bearing a gift.”
“A gift?” Sara asked.
James turned her way. His smile grew wider. “After I took care of the men in my apartment, I checked outside to see if there were any other nasty surprises waiting for me. I found another car full of men who I’d wager was following these Russians of yours.”
“Did you take care of them too?” Sara asked. Some of the color had run from her cheeks, and her teeth were ground together in a grimace. She didn’t look quite so charmed now.
“No,” James said. “I led them here.”
Sara practically flew out of her seat. “You did what?” Her eyes, already big, were now as wide as saucers. “Why would you do that?”
Mason leaned over and placed his palm over her trembling hand. “Because chances are the men following the Russians are working for the man who kidnapped your parents.”
“How can you know that?” she asked, panic filling her eyes. “It could just be the South Africans, and now they know where you live. Any minute now, they could bust in here and try to kill us all.”
Mason tightened his grip on her hand. “That’s not going to happen. James might be a borderline sociopath with no regard for personal boundaries, but he’s not an idiot. If the men in the car were following the Russians, they were waiting to see if they would do their dirty work for them. They saw those men as tools, not competition.”
“That does sound like Malcolm.” Sara’s breath slowed down a notch. She looked over at James. “But how would you know that?”
“I’ve had dealings with kidnappers before,” he answered. “Most of them have a similar style.”
The vague answer must have satisfied her, because she moved on to her next concern.
“So, they’re Malcolm’s men,” she said. “How does that help us?”
“Your man here seems to have some talent in persuading people to talk,” James said. “I thought he might be able to get some useful information out of them that could help you find your parents.”
“You risked a lot by coming here,” Mason said, his natural skepticism rising to the surface. “Malcolm’s men could have jumped you at any time. Why would you do that?”
“Consider it a peace offering.”
Mason shook his head. “Somehow I don’t believe you do anything out of the goodness of your heart.”
“I never said I did,” James freely admitted with another smile. “The truth is that I’m relatively new in this city. I don’t know many people.”
“And you think this will make us friends?” Sara asked.
James boldly met her gaze. His eyes narrowed just enough to make little crinkles form at the corners of his eyes. It was the closest to an honest expression that Mason had seen the man give.
“What I think,” he said, “is that you are two of the most skilled and talented people that I’ve met so far in this steel and concrete wilderness, and that I’d rather have you as allies than as enemies.”
Now that was an answer that Mason could accept…even if it was a little oddly phrased.
“I don’t know about allies, but how about this?” Mason said. “If everything you said is true, and those are Malcolm’s men downstairs, and we are able to get what we need out of them, then I’ll consider us square and won’t immediately try to run you out of town.”
James leaned back against his counter and seemed to think about it.
“Sounds fair enough,” he finally said.
“There’s only one problem,” Sara said at his side. “If those guys do work for Malcolm, they’d rather die than open their mouths. Wave a gun in their faces all you want, you’re never going to get them to talk.”
“You’re right. I can’t,” Mason said, reaching for his phone. “But I know someone who can.”
***
“This is never going to work,” Sara said for what felt like the six hundredth time. At this point she didn’t know why she was even bothering. The nagging wasn’t doing any good. Mason wasn’t listening to her.
He just kept repeating the same answer.
“That’s because you don’t know what Rhys can do.”
They were officially going around in circles.
Sara let out a long sigh as they entered Macmillan Security. She’d been unable to convince him that it was too risky to have his friends wrench Malcolm’s men out of their car and drag them back to the office for questioning. Not only were they never going to spill the location where Malcolm was hiding her parents, but in a few hours someone was bound to notice they were missing. And when that happened…well, Sara had a feeling they were all going to feel the full force of Malcolm’s anger.
“I hope you’re right,” Sara said. “For all of our sakes.”
Mason held the door open for her.
“I am,” he said, shooting her a wink. Sara was envious of his unwavering confidence. That
kind of feeling had to be nice…even if it was completely delusional.
“I don’t know why,” she said. They walked into the office together. “In the past thirty years, not a single soul has flipped on Malcolm. Not a one.”
His gaze slid her way. He gave her another patient smile. “That’s because none of them have been in a locked room with Rhys Vaughn for an hour.”
And round and round they went.
Sara bit the inside of her cheek as they stepped into the crowded office. She noticed everyone she’d met yesterday sitting in chairs—Bowie, Charlie, Jake and, of course, Carter, as well as a woman she didn’t recognize—the woman with dark curly hair, tucked in close to Jake’s side.
Sara’s pace faltered as she locked gazes with the woman. It didn’t take a genius to guess who she was—the reason everyone here still gave her the side-eye.
Everyone but Mason and Charlie, that was.
The room took notice of the sudden blast of chilliness.
Great. Her humiliation was going to have a full audience.
Well, so be it. If today was going to be the one for facing down dragons, she’d best get these little ones out of the way first.
Sara drew in a steadying breath, pasted on her best smile, and stepped around Mason. She extended her hand toward the stranger.
“Hi, I’m—”
“I know who you are,” the woman cut her off. Her tone wasn’t exactly frosty, but it wasn’t friendly either.
“Okay, then.” Sara pulled her palm back. Well, nobody could say she hadn’t tried.
Mason cupped his hand around her shoulder. She wondered if he knew how much the show of support meant.
“Sara, this is Verity Green. She’s a curator at the San Francisco Museum of Fine Art,” Mason took over the job of making introductions. “Verity, this is Sara Baumgartner. She’s not a thief.”
Verity didn’t look impressed…or convinced. Apparently, she was only focused on one thing.
“Is it true? Do you have the Evening Star?” she asked.
“I do,” Mason answered. He opened up the front of his jacket to show the box with the necklace peeking out of his inside pocket.
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