KIMBERLY PACED in a jail cell, furious that nothing had gone as they’d planned. And she was worried sick about Jason, whom she hadn’t seen since the police had carted him off in a separate vehicle. She fought back the fear, not for herself, but for Jason, who had been holding the Queen’s Crown when the police had arrived.
Because he’d agreed to help her, Jason was now under lock and key. If the authorities learned about his past, he might never see the other side of the jail cell again.
Damn the professor. He’d meant for her to catch the crown—so the police would think her guilty. Only, Jason had been too quick, saving her from injury, but taking the blame onto his own broad shoulders.
Oh God. He could spend the rest of his life in jail for helping her.
She had to do something. Say something.
But to whom? She was alone in her cell. Without even a guard at the door.
While the professor had also been trapped in the room with them, along with several innocent bystanders, she didn’t even know whether the police had taken him into custody. Not knowing caused bile to rise up in her throat, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
She had no notion of Scottish law, had no idea if she had any rights or could demand a lawyer. She’d been told someone from the American consulate would be notified, but that didn’t satisfy her. Upon entering the jail, she’d been locked into the cell. She hadn’t been photographed. Her fingerprints hadn’t been taken. She’d answered no questions—not that any had been asked.
And she was ready to scream.
At the sound of footsteps, she peered down the hallway. A man strode toward her. She raced toward the bars. “Jason?”
“In the flesh.”
He unlocked her door, his eyes glinting with familiar mischief. “I’m not accustomed to using a key.”
“What happened? Why are you… How did you get the key? Are we making a jailbreak? What’s going on?”
“First things first.” The lock clicked and he opened the door, twirled her around and kissed her.
She’d never thought to have his arms around her like this again. As his lips met hers, she automatically parted her mouth, welcoming him with an uncontrollable hunger that left her trembling. She locked her hands behind his head, tugged him closer, breathing in his familiar scent and pressing her chest to his.
He released her with a grin of satisfaction.
She raised an impatient fist. “If you don’t tell me right now what’s happening, I’m going to deck you.”
“We’re being released. L.J. caught the professor’s glass-smashing and crown-snatching act on tape. The professor is upstairs spilling his guts right now. And the cops found a pair of your pink panties in his room along with an old copy of your script.”
“What a pervert.”
He led her down the hall, up a flight of stairs to the next level where a uniformed woman handed her her personal effects. As if by mutual consent, they waited until they were free of the police building before talking further.
The last rays of sunlight had never felt so good on her skin. She breathed in the fresh air, appreciating her freedom. “Did the professor say why he tried to frame me?”
“Jealousy. Apparently it’s your fault he didn’t win an Academy Award.”
“What?”
“When the professor submitted his own screenplays to Simitar Studios, Quinn’s first reader who actually knew the professor passed them on to you. Probably because he feared Jamison, who was head of the department, would fire him if he didn’t. But then you rejected every one of his screenplays and he held a grudge.”
“Did Trixie know?”
“She had nothing to do with this.”
“I don’t recall reading anything by a Professor Jamison.”
“He used a pseudonym. And he not only blamed you for his lack of success, he fixated on you. He was sure you had turned down his brilliant screenplay so that you could sell your own story to Quinn instead.”
She shook her head. “That’s absurd. If Quinn wanted to buy five screenplays he could do so. The man must be delusional.”
“But he’s smart—to a point. After he sprayed the camera lens black, he thought no one would see him breaking the glass case. Since he picked a time when the security guard was distracted, he almost got away with it. If L.J. hadn’t been backing us up, we might not be free right now.”
“The professor went to all this trouble just for revenge?”
“He’s unbalanced. He resents women writers. Young women writers in particular, claiming you have an advantage because…”
“Because what?”
“Because you can screw your way to the top.”
“That’s ridiculous. Women in this industry are a minority. Besides, the business depends on who you know as much as on talent. I just lucked out that Quinn married one of my best friends, but he won’t make an offer unless my writing knocks his socks off. What I don’t understand is how did the professor know that I was coming on this trip?”
“He hired a P.I. to steal your script and follow you.”
“That’s creepy. Cate and Maggie are never going to believe this.”
“Oh, yes they will.”
“What does that mean?”
He guided her straight into a restaurant. The smells of garlic and cheese, cooked ham and fresh bread assaulted her senses. She realized she was starved.
“The entire story will make news round the world.”
“Why?”
“Reporters got wind of the story. The Book of Celts was returned to Cornwall’s library, causing more headline news. By the time I learned of the leak, there was nothing I could do. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Let’s hope Quinn believes that there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
“Is that possible?”
“Quinn’s unpredictable. I won’t know until I go home.” She paused while they gave their orders to a waitress behind the bar, then took seats in a corner where the cigarette smoke wouldn’t reach. “Now, tell me why the police released you.”
He shrugged. “They didn’t look at me too carefully after L.J. showed up with the videotape. That man has credentials almost as impressive as Logan Kincaid’s. Last year he almost single-handedly stopped a war between India and Pakistan from breaking out.”
She had the feeling he wasn’t telling her the entire story. “So that’s it? The police never hooked into any intelligence agency to discover what you do for a living?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“I can barely take this all in. Everything happened so quickly. Have I thanked you yet for everything you’ve done?”
“You can thank me when we get to London.”
“London?”
“Yes, darling. We still have one last love scene to recreate on the London Eye.”
THE LONDON EYE, or the Millennium Wheel, at 443 feet high was the world’s largest observational wheel, with pods of ellipsoid glass to give uninterrupted views over London. It took a half hour for each large car to complete one rotation, and Jason had reserved it for them alone at midnight. She didn’t want to think about how he’d arranged such a feat.
Instead she took in the magnificent view. Windsor’s lights to the west and Westminster’s over the Thames sparkled. She picked out the Tate Gallery, the Millennium Bridge below and Covent Gardens in the distance, but she wasn’t that interested in more sightseeing, not with her early flight back to Los Angeles tomorrow. Not when this was the last time she and Jason would make love, not when her heart ached.
Quinn had suggested one fantastic setting—but when she eventually wrote this scene, she would write it with mixed emotions. Before meeting Jason, she’d never known that she could be both incredibly happy and sad at the same time. She’d finally fallen in love and was about to lose Jason. He would live the life he’d chosen, and she would return to her work and career. Alone.
Someday, this would be a romantic memory to take out and warm herse
lf with on a rainy day. But right now, she couldn’t wait to whip off her clothes, spread out the thick blanket and welcome Jason into her arms.
In the darkness, he seemed as eager as she to come together, tossing his clothes to the blanket with abandon then backing her against the glass. He swept back her hair, cupped his hands on either side of her jaw, his fingers fierce against her scalp.
“You’re special to me,” he told her.
Her heart thumped harder in her chest. “You’re special to me, too.”
“You know what I like best about you, Kimberly?”
“What?”
“Your passion for life.” His fingers tangled deeper in her hair. “On the outside, you pretend to be safe, reasonable, pragmatic. But on the inside, you’re bubbling over with a zest for life. We’re alike, you and I.”
“We are?”
His hand smoothed from her jaw to her ear to the back of her neck. Hot need licked her. He tugged her closer until his lips lingered inches from hers.
“You liked the excitement of the past week, admit it.”
“I didn’t like the part where the police arrested me. Or the part in jail.”
“I’m talking about eating new foods, seeing new places, making love. You loved every minute.”
Okay, she’d had a wonderful time with him. She’d fallen in love, but she bit back that particular admission. Instead she stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”
“Or what.” He chuckled and knelt between her thighs.
He’d skipped the kissing, the caressing, but when his mouth closed over her, when his fingers slipped into her heat, when his tongue found her clit, she grasped his shoulders and hung on, wished she could hold on forever.
With her emotions swinging wildly, she was more than ready to just feel. She held back nothing, letting every sensation flow through her, welcoming the budding tension, welcoming the way her breasts instantly tightened, welcoming his expertise that shot her into a warm and wonderful orgasm.
As she regained control of her ragged breathing, he stood and held her against his chest, cradling her as the last tremors dissolved. She wrapped her arms around him, tipped back her head and whispered, “If that’s your idea of foreplay, I like it.”
“Good, because I plan to do it again.”
AND HE HAD done it again and again. The memory comforted her all the way back to Los Angeles. Maggie met her at the airport and Kimberly turned in her script with notes to Quinn, then went home to sleep off her jet lag. Instead of blissful rest, she dreamed of Jason making love to her behind a tri-fold screen, on a boat anchored in the River Liffey, in the bathtub and on the London Eye.
He hadn’t given her an address or phone number to contact him and she’d been too proud to ask. Clearly, it was over.
A week later, her pain hadn’t eased at the loss of him. She missed his smile. She missed his teasing and lovemaking. Most of all, she missed staring into his blue eyes and just talking. Being practical Kimberly once again, she followed her normal routine, working eighteen-hour days, waiting for the summons to Quinn’s office to hear what he thought about her research and the changes she’d made to the script.
Although she tried not to think about Jason, he constantly invaded her thoughts. Several days later, Quinn called her into his office. Looking tanned and fit from his South Pacific honeymoon, he sat behind his desk, eyeing her with speculation.
“My wife tells me you’ve been remarkably close-mouthed about your research.”
She gestured to her script on his desk. “So what do you think?”
“I think that the love scenes in Ireland and Wales are brilliant.”
At Quinn’s words of praise, Kimberly’s hopes soared, yet remained tinged with melancholy. Without Jason she couldn’t have written those scenes. Without Jason, she couldn’t have stretched the story’s emotional depth.
It took a moment to recall that Quinn was waiting for her to say something. “You really like it?”
“I liked it before. Now, I love it. I adore it. It’s magical, suspenseful and erotic—a can’t-miss hit.”
“What about the bad publicity? That crazy professor, my going to jail—”
“—created an industry buzz. A-list stars are calling me for a part and they haven’t even read the script.” Quinn pushed a contract offer in her direction. “You might want to have an agent look at this before you sign.”
She glimpsed the six-figure advance and if she hadn’t been sitting, she might have jumped up and down with joy. She’d sold her script, her baby that she’d sweated over, pampered and groomed for almost a year. Now A Burning Obsession was going to be made into a movie with major stars.
The news was magnificent and she wanted to celebrate, with Jason. But she couldn’t call him—better to make a clean break.
In the parking garage, she picked up her cell phone, determined to celebrate with her friends. She called Cate, but she didn’t answer. Neither did Maggie. Disappointed, Kimberly hung up her phone.
When a shadow loomed over her car, she reached to lock the door. Too late.
But then Jason opened the door and slid into the passenger seat as if she’d been expecting him.
“You scared the…what are you doing here?”
“And hello to you, too.” He leaned over and kissed her. Her mouth, still open in surprise, welcomed him with an easy familiarity that reminded her of how much she’d missed him.
With her thoughts bubbling with excitement and passion, she broke the kiss, her curiosity at an all-time high. “Now I know I’m not dreaming but I didn’t expect…didn’t think…how did you…?”
He chuckled at her bewilderment. “Did you think I’d just let go of the most precious gemstone I’ve ever held?”
She rolled her eyes. “What did you steal now?”
“I was talking about you.”
“Huh?”
“You’re precious to me.”
“And?” she prodded.
“I’m keeping you.”
Kimberly refused to let passion overcome her good sense. “You can’t keep me with you.”
His eyes twinkled. “True. I have my work, but I can base my center of operations in Los Angeles. We could spend a lot of time together.”
She’d missed him terribly. She loved him still. But she didn’t think she could form a permanent relationship with a jewel thief. And yet, how could she send him away?
Her heart had lifted just at his presence. She couldn’t take her gaze off him. He looked good in those tight jeans, a white sweater and a navy sports coat. But best of all, she liked the way she felt when she was around him—as if she could accomplish anything. Even selling a script—thanks to him and the passion he’d inspired.
“Quinn loved the script.” Jason chuckled.
“He said the love scenes were brilliant.”
“Mmm.”
“You stole my heart.”
For the first time his eyes lost some of their amusement. “Say that again.”
“You heard me. I love you.”
“And you waited until now to tell me because—”
“I wasn’t going to tell you at all. Forget I said that.”
“Why weren’t you going to tell me?”
“Because we have no future.”
“I love you, too, I won’t give you up and I’ve decided to make L.A. my home.”
“But—”
“That was before I took a job with the Shey Group.”
Her heart stuttered. “You did?”
“That’s right. You are now looking at the Shey Group’s number-one thief.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ll still be stealing, but this time I’ll be on your side of the law.”
“What about your record?”
He snapped his fingers. “Erased.”
“The warrants for your arrest?”
“Gone. Ka-poof.”
“How?”
“Logan Kinc
aid pulled some favors in exchange for my help over the next two years. You’re looking at a solid citizen. My new name is Jason Connors. So what do you think?”
Overwhelmed, she didn’t know what to say. “Did you do this for me?”
“For us.”
“Well, in that case it’s time to begin researching my next script.” She leaned over to him for another kiss. “What do you think of a movie that begins with two lovers in the front seat of a car?”
“Sounds perfect. Right down to the protagonist removing her blouse.”
She fumbled for the buttons. Buttons he’d already undone. He’d surprised her again and she hoped he kept doing so for a long, long time.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7060-6
A BURNING OBSESSION
Copyright © 2004 by Susan Hope Kearney.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
A Burning Obsession Page 19