Fugitive Heart (22 page)

But now Nick was standing here, streaked with red paint and asking her if she wanted to change her life completely. Ames, the woman who never took risks, who hadn’t even made it to the east coast to visit New York in all these years of dreaming.

Nick had taken a huge leap and now held out his hand and asked her to jump too. He was reckless, comfortable with violence, and she barely knew him.

But she loved him and trusted him completely. “Yes. Yes, please,” she said.

He drew her with him to the newly remodeled master bathroom. Ames cringed as they left traces of red on the pristine white tile, which had only just been installed, but it washed away once Nick turned on the shower.

Watching the pink water swirl around the drain, Ames couldn’t help but think of all the bloodshed that had swirled around her and Nick and how close both of them had come to being killed because of her brother’s crime.

Nick’s warm arms pulled her back against his hard body. Jets of water beat down on both their heads as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “What are you thinking?”

“That life’s really fragile. And short. And that my brother’s a real asshole.”

“He kinda is. That postcard you told me about. What a dick,” Nick agreed, hugging her tight. They rocked together under the stream of water. She heaved a sigh of contentment.

He must not have understood her happy sigh, because he slid his hands up and down her wet sides and said, “Ames? You’re so quiet. Maybe I shouldn’t have sprung the idea of moving in first thing. That was wrong.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, blinking the rivulets of water from her eyes. “No, it wasn’t wrong. I know exactly where you’re coming from after what we’ve both been through. When something feels so right, it seems stupid to postpone it.”

“Exactly. I want you in my life in every way starting like yesterday.” He reached for the brand-new puff and shower gel Ames had placed in the shower, worked up a lather and began to wash Ames’s back. The scratch of the puff felt good, but not nearly as good as Nick’s hand rubbing behind it.

His fingers slid over her back and sides, working her muscles under the slippery gel. The puff skittered down her leg and dropped to the shower floor as he curved his hands around her, pulled her back against him again.

She wiggled her hips and gave a breathless laugh when he growled in her ear. They made it out of the shower before the water grew icy, and made love on a damp pile of towels and bedding.

Afterwards, he opened his eyes and gave her a heavy-lidded smile. “Hey, I can see you’re starting in with the doubts. Just so you know, I don’t usually leave damp towels lying on the floor or bed.”

She got out of the bed, grabbed one of the offending towels and draped it over the bedstead. A cool draft touched her naked skin, which seemed to be more sensitive now, as if Nick’s touch had awakened more nerve endings. She sat on the edge of the bed and watched the muscles move under his golden skin. Before she could be distracted by his torso, she directed her gaze back to his eyes. “It’s more than that,” she said.

The lazy smile vanished. “Go on.”

“No, I don’t mean it’s bad. It’s just that maybe we should have one of those conversations you’re supposed to have when you’re dating. We’ve done the future, and I like that. But we skipped a few of the ones about the past.”

“I understand.” His grim expression vanished, but the easy smile didn’t return. He rolled onto his back and shoved his hands behind his head, the picture of a guy not exactly excited about talking but ready to be honest. “So, okay. The past is a pain. But at least I’ve sorta put it where it belongs.”

“What do you mean?”

“While I was back home in New York last week, I went and talked to my parents,” Nick said slowly. “I’ve been avoiding them for years, but I figured out you can’t run away from your family any more than you can your name. Ross or Rossi, it doesn’t matter. We can’t cut ourselves off from the family tree. So I decided to make peace before I left the city.”

“I’m glad. Do you think that means your past isn’t going to haunt you?”

“Not any more than anyone else’s past.”

She hesitated. “What about the Espositos?”

“I doubt they care about me.” He shrugged. “I’m not a real threat to them, unfortunately.”

“Why unfortunate? Do you wish you could bring them down?”

He wrinkled his nose, an endearingly boyish look. “Yeah, I used to. But I’ve never had enough dirt on them. And, well, I’m not willing to sacrifice my life to vengeance. I got better things to do.” The smile he directed at her had more than a touch of cocky interest. He allowed his bright gaze to travel up and down her body.

She smirked and turned her attention to his growing erection. “Yes indeed, we have a lot of work in front of us here.”

He snickered and stretched his arms high over his head. “I volunteer.”

Ames stroked his arm. “How much time do you have to do your part? Are you going to be able to stay with me that long?”

His grin widened as he reached for her “Hey, I’m in it for the long haul. Leading a life together will require both of us. Getting started on that is number one on my to-do list, and it’s easier when you’re with me. ”

Despite his big smile, his words, along with the warmth in those dark eyes seemed serious, as if he’d just made a vow.

“You really mean it. You’re going stick around Arnesdale.”

“Hell, yeah.”

She let him pull her into a hug. She buried her nose into the crook of his neck, memorizing the smell under the soap. She made a soft sound of discovery and pleasure. More than that. Pure happiness flooded her.

“Nick,” she said. “I’m in love with you.”

His arms went tight around her. “That’s what I like to hear. I’m wild about you.”

“Do you suppose we’ll be happy?

“Yup. Wait, make that a ‘hell, yes’.”

She squeezed him then drew back to study his face. Her brows must have been furrowed because he asked, “So? Do you have another question?” Not really—and then she thought of one. “What’ll happen to Sam Allen now that you don’t have to hide?”

“He’s gone, poor guy. Maybe I could sell that name and ID. In these days of homeland security and Internet checks, it’s hard to buy a good false identity.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

His naked skin warmed her, tempted her to draw close so nothing lay between them. His fingers threaded through her hair. “Yes. I’m kidding. I won’t so much as jaywalk for the rest of my life. Now that I’m not hiding from anyone or anything anymore I don’t want to be more than a law-abiding citizen.”

She had to kiss him then. As he pulled her close and deepened the kiss, she decided they had time enough to discover more about each other.

About the Author

Summer Devon is the alter ego Kate Rothwell who also writes under her own name. Kate/Summer lives in Connecticut, and loves writing books with Bonnie. You can see more at
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www.summerdevon.com
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Look for these titles by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon

Now Available by Bonnie Dee:

Finding Home

Evolving Man

Opposites Attract

Blackberry Pie

Heat Wave: print anthology

Perfecting Amanda

The Countess Takes a Lover

The Countess Lends a Hand

The Final Act

The Valentine Effect

Strangers in the Night: print anthology

Empath

Gifted: print anthology

Butterfly Unpinned

The Thief and the Desert Flower

Star Flyer

The Psychic and the Sleuth

Fairytale Fantasies

Cinderella Unmasked

Demon Lover

Awakening Beauty

Sex and the Single Princess

Magical Ménages

Shifters’ Captive

Vampires’ Consort

Now Available by Summer Devon:

Learning Charity

Revealing Skills

Taken Unaware

The Knight’s Challenge

Unnatural Calamities

The Psychic and the Sleuth

Taming the Bander

Coming Soon:

Sibling Rivals

A life of crime is easy…until love goes all ninja on your ass.

Confidence Tricks

© 2013 Tamara Morgan

Asprey Charles has always assumed he would one day take his place in the family art appraisal and insurance firm. “His place” meaning he plans to continue to enjoy his playboy lifestyle, lavish money on his Cessna, and shirk every responsibility that dares come his way.

But when a life of crime is thrust upon him, he is just as happy to slip on a mask and cape and play a highwayman rogue. After all, life is one big game—and he excels at playing.

Poppy Donovan vows that her recent release from jail will be her last—no more crime, no more cons. But when she learns that her grandmother lost her savings to a low-life financial advisor, she’s forced to do just one more job.

It’s all going smoothly until the necklace she intends to pawn to fund her con is stolen by a handsome, mocking, white-collar thief. A thief who, it turns out, could take a whole lot more than money. If she’s not careful, this blue blood with no business on her side of the tracks could run off with the last thing she can afford to lose. Her heart.

Warning: This book contains masked crusaders, a remorseless con woman, and plans to boost a ten million dollar painting. Expect high speeds and fast hands.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Confidence Tricks:

“Someone has breached the perimeter,” Asprey announced, pulling a pair of binoculars down from his eyes.

Graff looked up from his book. “You make it sound like we’re in the White House or something. It’s probably a salesman or a Girl Scout. Get rid of them.”

Asprey ignored his brother and peered back through the window, which faced the runway leading up to the massive hangar they called home. This was definitely no salesman or little girl. The woman was still far enough away that he couldn’t make out all the details, but a smallish pair of jean shorts, bright teal cowboy boots and a flowy white blouse didn’t seem like standard attire for hawking Avon or vacuum cleaners.

“She’s on foot,” Asprey added, searching around for a parked car or bicycle. Located as they were at the end of an abandoned airport, the only other way to get to the hangar was by teleportation. They weren’t exactly on the bus route. “Why would anyone walk all the way out here?”

Graff slammed the book in his lap that time. “I don’t know, Asprey. Why don’t you go out there and ask? I know it might seem foreign to you, but I’m actually working over here.”

“Fine,” Asprey returned. “I’ll forcibly remove our visitor.” He set the binoculars aside and gently rotated his shoulder. It still hurt like a bitch—he’d gotten their younger sister, Tiffany, to pop it back in two nights ago, but she’d been less of the ministering angel he’d been hoping for and more like a gleeful spectator.

“Man up, big brother,” she’d said as he lay on the ground and she lifted his arm over his head. Bones and joints weren’t supposed to go that way, he was sure of it. “According to Graff, the woman could have done a lot worse to you. He said she went easy. I bet she thought you were cute.”

“Laugh it up, Tiffany,” he’d replied. “It’s easy for you to judge from the safety of your Internet cocoon back here at the lair.”

At least he thought that was what he’d said. His memories were rendered slightly hazy, what with the bone-searing pain and all. He might have just been screaming.

And now he had to hold his arm at a weird angle for days, moving around like a baby bird and praying there’d be no call for any sudden movements. Experience and multiple dislocations had taught him to avoid a sling—sucking it up and getting back to life were the best ways to make the recovery period ten times shorter, mostly because the muscles grew too stiff otherwise.

“Need some help?” Tiffany didn’t glance up from her computer, set up along the far wall of the hangar on a long, faux-wood table like the kind housed in school cafeterias. “I’m just about done with this code.”