Sweet Deception: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense - Angel Nicholas

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thud smacked into the wall, raining chunks of debris on them.

      His whisper-soft expletive blistered her ears. He unerringly found her hand again, tugged her out of the hole and jogged into the darkness—away from the door. Left with no choice, she followed. Her other hand crept up to touch a fiery spot on her cheek and her fingers came away damp and sticky. She wiped the thick substance on her khaki shorts.

      Could this day get any worse? She should have stayed in bed.

      Running up the metal steps, she did her best to keep quiet. The light improved as they climbed. His well-muscled butt distracted her from the burn of her thigh muscles and what felt like a gigantic bull’s eye on her backside.

      Finally—thank you, God—they arrived at the top of the unending staircase. Sucking air, legs shaking like wet noodles, she gratefully sagged against the nearest wall. Oblivious to her state of near-collapse, Surfer Dude leaned over the stairwell, staring down into the inky black below. How he could see anything, she didn’t know. Neither did she particularly care.

      Eyeing his hunky rear end, she touched her cheek. Wincing, she traced the throbbing, damp line of skin. Surfer Dude straightened and turned. His eyes narrowed on her. Two big steps brought him toe to toe. Sucking in a breath at his nearness, she tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go.

      “Damn.” His sigh feathered across her skin. With gentle fingers, he pulled her hand away and tilted her face toward the light. “I didn’t realize.”

      His face came closer. Close enough to count eyelashes. Totally unfair; they were longer than hers.

      “It’s not bad,” he murmured. “Just a graze. If I’d realized sooner he had a gun…I’m sorry, Sugar Lips.”

      She lifted her fingers in a shaft of brilliant sunlight and stared at the glistening blood on the tips. Her vision dimmed.

      “Oh no you don’t.”

      His voice came through a tunnel. Everything went dark.

       Chapter Two

      Bright sunshine penetrated her closed lids. Ally rolled her head away before forcing them open. Squinting, she contemplated the bare leg an inch from her face. Tan and muscled, with a sprinkling of blonde hair. Nice.

      “Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

      The smooth velvet baritone washed over her, the slight roughness making her hormones sit up and pant. His voice made her think of naughty whispers in the dark, soft sighs when he kissed a special spot and the husky moans of unhurried lovemaking on satin sheets. She yearned toward it and had to fist her hands to resist temptation. No doubt he made the same unspoken offer to every female who crossed his path.

      His words registered.

      A snort escaped her lips before she could think better of it. His low chuckle heated her cheeks. Braving the sunlight, she turned to look at him. Up a brilliant white T-shirt, over a well-defined jawline, smiling lips and a straight nose, to focus on amused aqua eyes.

      Surfer Dude. And apparently her head currently resided in his lap. The heat in her cheeks ratcheted up to a near-burn.

      She sat up. They were on a roof, in a narrow spot of shade provided by the rooftop stairway access. Against her will, her gaze flitted back to where Surfer Dude lounged with impressive nonchalance.

      “Feeling better?”

      Prim dignity came to the rescue as she smoothed her mousy-brown hair, self-consciousness hidden behind a façade of calm reserve. “Yes, thank you.”

      She ached to tug down her too-short shorts and make sure her lacy tank top still kept everything adequately covered. Pride brought her hand back to her lap and she clasped her fingers tight to prevent unlicensed wandering.

      “I take it you don’t deal well with blood?”

      Tensing, Ally searched his expression for any sign of condescension. Seeing none, she relaxed a little. “Not my own.”

      “Yeah, I don’t know many people fond of seeing their own blood.” He shrugged. “No biggie, Sugar Lips. The bullet only nicked you.”

      “Would you quit calling me Sugar…” The hot irritation faded alongside her voice. She swallowed and managed a single squeaky word. “Bullet?”

      Hunky guys calling her mocking names ranked pretty high on her annoyance scale. Bullets? They’d never made it onto the scale. His shrewd gaze sharpened. Ally lifted her chin. He didn’t intimidate her.

      “Yeah. You seem to have a penchant for finding trouble.”

      “Me?” Her spine stiffened. “What about you? You were there too.”

      “Sure, but you seem to have a way of attracting attention. Not surprising, I guess, with those big eyes and…” His gaze dropped to her lips, which promptly plumped and tingled. “…truly luscious lips.”

      “Oh, get real, Surfer Dude.”

      Oh. My. Word. I did not say that out loud. Fire burned in her cheeks, growing hotter when he chuckled. So glad I can prove entertaining, at least. Obnoxious jerk. She turned away and ducked her chin so her long hair fell forward to hide her face until the blasted blush faded.

      “Surfer Dude?”

      The laughter still coloring his voice made her want to crawl into a hole. Why did she always have to humiliate herself in front of attractive men? No wonder she was still single.

      “I don’t know your name,” she mumbled into her hair. “I didn’t know what to call you.”

      “Hey, whatever works. Name’s Greg.”

      “Ally.”

      “Sorry?”

      He swept aside her hair, long fingers wrapping around her chin to angle her face back toward him. Meeting Surfer…uhm, Greg’s sparkling eyes, she swallowed.

      “My name is Ally.”

      He stared at her until her stomach tumbled to the hot roof they sat on. Which was beyond silly. No way on this planet a guy like him would want her.

      He leaned closer, the heat in his eyes holding her suspended in breathless anticipation. His lips settled on hers with no hesitation, moving with a confidence she couldn’t begin to comprehend. Her lids slid closed against an eruption of butterflies. Deepening the kiss, his tongue glided over the seam of her lips, asking and gaining admission. The taste of him exploded across her tongue like deep, dark chocolate.

      Shaken, she jerked back and eyed him. Things like this didn’t happen to girls like her. Girls like her led boring, quiet lives in boring, quiet duplexes. Girls like her sat at home on Friday nights watching romantic movies, eating popcorn, wearing warm pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Alone.

      Girls like her did not meet gorgeous men on roller-coaster rides, have hair-raising experiences in dark buildings and make out with said gorgeous man on sun-kissed rooftops.

      “That’s really low.” She leapt to her feet.

      “Huh?”

      At the sound of his footsteps, an unwelcome image of him climbing to his feet with catlike grace filled her mind.

      “Did I miss something?”

      She spun around, crossing her arms and glaring at all his golden glory shining in the summer sun. Jerk. “What kind of man goes around kissing another woman when he has a girlfriend? A girlfriend I’ve met! Sort of.”

      Greg sighed and crossed his arms. “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

      Ugh. Even his frown was adorable.

      “Well…” Ally snorted and spun away. What

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