LITMIR.BIZ

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the car into gear and spun out of the alleyway. She whipped her head around in time to see a blocky head pop up over the privacy fence as they disappeared around the corner. She’d done it. Escaped. Stayed alive. Like an atomic bomb, the events of the past hours and the emotions she’d worked so hard to control mushroomed up, exploding inside. Tears stung.

      “Can’t you stay out of trouble for five minutes?”

      His harsh tone burst the erupting emotional storm. Her tears dried before they fell. She plopped down into the passenger seat, staring at him as the last few minutes replayed. Then she flung herself across the console and wrapped her arms around his neck.

      “I am sooo glad to see you. You don’t know how glad.” She tightened her arms and breathed him in. He smelled incredible; like sunshine and the ocean and relaxation. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” A thought froze her outpouring of gratitude and she sat back on her heels. “Wait a second. Everything I’ve been through since getting home is your fault!”

      “What? I didn’t do anything.”

      Her jaw dropped. “You sent me off with some jerk who tried to kill me, you…you…jerk!”

      “Jerk?” Detective Marsing turned incredulous eyes on her. “Someone tries to kill you and jerk is the best you can come up with? That’s sad, Ally.”

      Crossing her arms, she sat back. “Just admit it. This whole situation is all your fault.”

      “What is it with women? Look, if I’d known Smith was part of this thing, I never would have sent him with you.”

      “Confession is good for the soul. Come on, it won’t hurt. Much.”

      He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. A smile tipped up the corner of his mouth and he glanced at her. “Fine. If it’ll make you feel better, you’re right. This entire situation is my fault.”

      “Thank you.” A man like Detective Marsing didn’t make such admissions easily. She smiled a little but shifted in her seat, disconcerted. She glanced at his Greek-god profile. He’d drop her off somewhere and she wouldn’t have to worry about the way he made her feel again.

      The atmosphere in the car settled into an uneasy truce and gradually her smile dissolved. Staring at her dirty toes, she clenched her hands in her lap. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

      “I live a very quiet life.” She sighed. “Nothing exciting happens to me. I avoid excitement like the plague. So, why would anyone want to, uhm, off me?”

      “Off you?” Marsing grinned. “I don’t know.”

      “Are you going to find out?”

      “Yes.”

      He pulled into an underground garage beneath a gleaming high-rise.

      “Where are we? I thought you were going to, I don’t know, drop me off at the police station, I guess.”

      “Not a good idea. I need some time to figure out what we’re facing.”

      We. Against her better judgment, her heart softened and opened the teensiest bit. “Thank you.”

      He grinned, an awe shucks sorta smile. Her stomach flipped. All he needed was a cowboy hat to tip.

      “Just doing my job.”

      The walls around her heart slammed shut again and she battled back an ache of disappointment. They idled down neat rows of expensive cars. BMW, Mercedes, Saab, Lexus and Audi. She straightened, for the first time conscious of the high-quality leather under her butt.

      “You live here?”

      “Sort of.”

      “Sort of? What kind of answer is ‘sort of’? Either you do or you don’t live somewhere. You can’t ‘sort of’ live somewhere.”

      “Sometimes, okay? You could try the patience of a saint, Sugar Lips.” His gaze dropped to her lips and a slow, intensely hot smile formed. “And I’m no saint.”

      “Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”

      Her irritation from the rooftop fiasco returned. Saint, ha, good one. More like the department Don Juan. Wasn’t she just the luckiest girl in town?

      He steered the car into a spot sandwiched between a Jaguar and a Beemer. She hopped out as soon as he killed the engine. Tapping her feet at the rear of his car, she glared at her toes. Barefoot and dirty. Just the look she dreamt of sporting when going into a ritzy condominium building. Lovely.

      “Detective, I can’t go in there looking like this.”

      “You look fine.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her along beside him.

      She glared at him. “How do you know I look fine when you haven’t even looked at me?”

      “Believe me, I’ve looked far too much for my own peace of mind.”

      She blinked. “What? I don’t even have shoes on. I look like some homeless person you dragged in off the street.”

      His lips tightened. “Hardly. You’re far too beautiful to be mistaken for homeless.” He glanced at her feet and shrugged. “It’s hot. You like going barefoot in the heat. Just go with it, keep your chin up and no one will think twice. Wealthy people are eccentric. Trust me, bare feet are the least of what I’ve seen around here.”

      Beautiful? He thought she was beautiful? Struggling to process such a strange new concept, she clipped several bumpers and set off a symphony of car alarms. No one had ever called her beautiful before. Cute had come up a few times over the years, cuddly more often than she’d like and attractive brought out and dusted off on a few occasions.

      Beautiful. Huh.

      “Move your tush, Sugar Lips.” He tugged her at a faster clip across the cool expanse of cement.

      In the elevator, he released her and she rubbed her arm. He hadn’t hurt her, but still. “Your little habit of grabbing and hauling me around is getting old. Just a little FYI for ya.”

      He grinned, a baring of teeth attractive enough to make her knees go weak—dratted man. “Just making sure you don’t get lost or kidnapped when my back’s turned.”

      She returned his patently false smile as he pushed the button for the top floor. The high-tech LCD display prompted him to enter a code. The penthouse. Of course. And he just stayed here sometimes. Poor guy. What a rough life.

      After silently whisking them up through the building, the elevator doors slid open. A marble inlaid foyer opened onto a living room that screamed, “I’ve got more money in my sock drawer than you’ll ever see in this lifetime.” Frowning, she rubbed her hand over her churning stomach. She didn’t belong here.

      Ally took a step, then hesitated. Trusting Officer Smith hadn’t been the brightest idea, but surely Marsing wouldn’t rescue her and bring her to his place just to kill her. Gnawing on her lip, she stared at the back of his golden head as he strode into the condo. Either she trusted him or she didn’t. Trusted him to keep her safe, anyway. Time to fish or cut bait.

      She sucked in a breath and walked off the elevator. “So…uhm…does your family live here? Parents, siblings?”

      His lips tightened. The happy-go-lucky guy disappeared.

      Nerves jangling, Ally bit her lip hard. Had she made a mistake after all?

      Fingers smoothing over the top of a curved couch, she crossed to a wall of enormous windows framing the city. She cleared her throat and faced Marsing again, clenching her jaw to keep it shut.

      His eyes sparkled and the sardonic twist to his too-tempting lips had returned. Heck, even his hair seemed cocky.

      “Uhm…” Pull yourself together, Ally. Sheesh. “Pretty fancy digs, Detective.”

      “Thanks.”

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