Hotbed Honey (14 page)

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Authors: Toni Blake

BOOK: Hotbed Honey
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She turned and walked out, then went down the hall to the kitchen. She caught a glimpse of Carlo through the French doors, his back to them, so thankfully he hadn't seen her. She could use a few more minutes without the lout bothering her.
A minute later, Max caught up with her. "Looks like we've got a few minutes to kill," he said, "so I might as well make use of it."
"How?"
"I'm gonna go search Carlo's room."
Kimberly tilted her head. "And what do you expect to find? The guy's only been here since last night."
"Possibly nothing, but you never know. A phone number of a contact, a matchbook from someplace he hangs out, some kind of a clue to where the jewelry goes when it leaves the victims."
Kimberly shrugged. She doubted he'd turn up anything, but she supposed it was worth a try.
"Your job is to keep him from coming in and surprising me."
She grimaced. "I'm not crazy about being alone with the doofus, you know."
"You won't have to be. Just stay here and keep an eye on him from a distance. If he comes inside and you need me, just tell him you're hungry and yell up that you're ready to leave for dinner."
"All right," she said. Sounded easy enough.
Kimberly stationed herself at the table in the breakfast nook and Max headed upstairs. Staring out the window, she pondered Max's instructions for dinner—no more touching. That was more than fine with her, but she was slightly afraid it might confuse Carlo. What was Max's problem here, anyway? After all, if all he felt for her was lust, what difference did it make who touched her?
The French doors opened then, drawing her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Carlo and pasted on a smile. "Hi."
"Hi there." He walked up and gave her a thorough once-over, something she was beginning to think of as his trademark greeting. "You look great."
"Thanks." She gazed at him from beneath flirtatiously slanted lashes, then stood up. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Shall I get Max and we can go to dinner?"
"You know, actually, I need to make a phone call first, if you don't mind. I'll just go upstairs and use the phone in my room." And to her great astonishment—after all, Carlo was not one to squander a moment alone with her—he began to head toward the stairs. Toward his room. Where Max was.
"Wait."
He stopped and looked back.
"Why don't you use the phone in Max's office down the hall? Save you the trip upstairs. Then I'll get Max and we'll be ready to go when you're done." She offered him a wide smile for good measure.
He returned the wide smile, but didn't go along with her suggestion. "That's okay. I need to get my shoes while I'm up there." Only then did she glance down and see that beneath his khaki trousers his feet were bare. Damn.
Kimberly quickly considered her options. She could yell for Max, but what could she say that would make sense at this point and not sound suspicious? She couldn't yell, "Let's go to dinner," because Carlo had just said he wasn't ready to leave yet. And she certainly couldn't shout, "Carlo's coming upstairs!" She knew she should be able to think faster than this, but her mind went blank She couldn't come up with one plausible thing to say to get Max out of Carlo's room.
Then an idea hit her. It was fairly lame, but so was Carlo, so maybe it would be okay. "Carlo, would you be a dear and do me a favor first?" This time she even fluttered her eyelashes, feeling a little desperate.
The request, thankfully, seemed to abate his hurry. "For you, gorgeous, anything."
She giggled for him, having picked up on the fact that he liked the dumb-girlishness of the sound, and then shifted her attention to a philodendron in a brass planter situated on a high ledge in the kitchen. "I've been trying to figure out how I could get that plant down to repot it, but I just don't think I can reach it." For added effect, she added, "I've been asking Mrs. Leland to do it for weeks, but she keeps forgetting. And the poor plant needs some attention. So do you think you could get it down for me?"
"Hmm. Well, I can try…"
She understood Carlo's hesitation. The ledge was clearly too tall for him, as well. She wondered vaguely how anyone could get the plant down, or even water it. "I'll bet if you got up on the counter you might be able to reach it. Will you try for me?"
"Of course. Like I said, anything for you."
Carlo approached the kitchen counter and climbed up onto it. "You know," she said, "we have a footstool in one of the upstairs closets. I'll just run up and get it for you."
Then she scurried from the kitchen and up the stairs, straight into Carlo's room. Max was bent over the desk going through Carlo's wallet. He looked up at her like a man who'd been caught stealing jewelry. "What are you doing? Trying to shave a few years off my life?"
She kept her voice low. "We've gotta get out of here. He's coming up. There's nothing I could do to prevent it."
Max took a step toward her, looking completely irritated. "How about yelling for me? Did we not have a plan?"
"It didn't seem prudent given the circumstances. Now, if you'll just quit arguing and—"
He took another step closer and damped a hand over her mouth, silencing her. Then they both heard it—the faint but distinct sound of footsteps padding down the hall. "Damn it," he muttered beneath his breath.
They both knew it was too late to get out now.
Kimberly scanned the room. "The closet."
Chapter 6
M
ax moved briskly toward the closet and opened the sliding door, stepping inside. Then he grabbed Kimberly's wrist and pulled her in with him, although it was close quarters and their bodies were crushed together. Apparently the house's owners used this closet for storage as it was crammed with boxes and garment bags. A murmured curse left him as he attempted to find a more comfortable position behind her. "Try turning around," he whispered, so she did, plastering her back against his chest. He slid the door shut just before they heard Carlo enter the room.
Max stood statue-still, waiting for something to happen. Two things promptly did. He heard Carlo pick up the phone and begin to dial. And he felt Kimberly shift her weight from one foot to the other, moving against him in the process.
He was getting hard. That quickly. He squeezed his eyes shut as his arousal pressed into her bottom through their clothing.
He wanted to bang his head against the wall.
Somebody put me out of my misery
. Why couldn't he stop this? He'd as much as blamed her earlier for their unprofessional behavior, but the fault was all his. His and his uncontrollable desire for her. How could he be getting an erection now, while they were hiding in the closet, while they were in direct danger of being discovered? This was not the time to lose control of himself again, and considering that their bodies were practically cemented together, there was nothing he could do to keep her from feeling it. Things were going quickly from bad to worse.
"This is Carlo," Max suddenly heard him say outside the closet. "Yeah, you should see this place, man—out of this world."
So someone else knew Carlo was here. That was a beginning, the start of a clue.
By all rights, Carlo's conversation should have taken Max's mind off his pants and fully onto his job, but that didn't appear to be happening. What was going on down there didn't exactly seem to be a matter of the mind. He grew harder against Kimberly's soft bottom and wondered if she felt it yet.
"They're loaded," Carlo said, and then he lowered his voice so that Max could barely make out the next part. "Haven't seen most of the goods yet, but the husband has been talking them up like they're the crown jewels. Ought to be a hell of a heist."
Okay, this was big. Whoever Carlo was talking to knew he was here to steal jewelry.
Keep talking, Carlo
, he willed silently.
Tell me what I need to know
. At the same time, Max was also thinking,
Get off the phone, Carlo, before one of us loses our balance and goes tumbling out the door. Before my preoccupation with my partner's body becomes any more obvious than it already must be.
He couldn't believe how much he wanted to touch her.
"They asked me to stay the weekend. Not sure if it'll stretch out any longer than that."
No, Max more than wanted to touch her. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to push up her skirt, pull down her panties and be inside her.
"Oh man, the wife is incredible." Carlo had lowered his voice again, but went on. "All curves and legs. And pretty friendly, too. I don't think I'll have much of a problem with her."
Oh yeah, you will, buddy. Lay another finger on her and you're a dead man.
But Carlo had one thing right. Was she ever incredible. At the moment, Max was wondering how he'd ever let her go in the first place—ruined career or no ruined career. Yet her beauty and her body were only two parts of the equation. She was smart. And she was funny. And she was passionate … oh God, was she passionate.
Max muttered a silent oath. Kimberly's passion was definitely the wrong thing to be thinking about right now. But a flashback—her on top of him on a rainy Sunday morning three years ago, making love to him until they were both weak—increased Max's longing for her. He knew she felt his arousal now—it would be impossible for her not to.
All he could do was hold still against her and wait for Carlo to get off the phone and leave.
He wanted her even more now than he had a minute ago, if that was possible.
"Don't worry, boss," Carlo was saying, catching Max's attention again. The whole phone call was finally proof that he wasn't working alone, but this last part meant he wasn't even the guy in charge. "I've got it all under control. You'll have the stuff before you know it."
He put his hand on Kimberly's shoulder, his way of saying silently, Did you hear that? But in the meantime he was touching her someplace else, too—this one not quite as innocent. Big news or not, he decided that as soon as Carlo left the room, he wanted to yank Kimberly down on the floor of the closet, let their limbs and bodies get completely entwined, and then make hot, slow love to her until she screamed. Not that he could do any of that. But it was the thought that invaded his brain.
Come on, Carlo, get off the phone before I lose my remaining control, little as it may be.
Kimberly took a deep breath and tried not to move. The slightest flinch or waver and she would feel him that much more, pressing into the cleft of her bottom. And she would want him that much more.
She wanted to stomp her feet in frustration. She wasn't going to feel this! She just wasn't!
But she did.
It didn't matter what she'd told herself just a little while ago about being a professional. And it didn't matter how angry Max made her with his irrational reactions. To Kimberly, it had been an eternity since he had touched her by the pool today. She hadn't known it, hadn't let herself recognize her own hunger, but now she needed him. She needed his touch, needed his body pressing up against hers.
Currently she
had
the second part.
Even as she knew how badly she desired it, it was killing her inside.
She wanted to cry at the way she ached for him. It wasn't fair! When would this job be over? When would she get Max Tate out of her system once and for all?
Then an overwhelming sadness hit her, amid her wild longing for him. She would probably
never
get Max out of her system. If three years hadn't been enough to do it, how many years would? She had a very scary feeling that she was going to be in love with him for the rest of her life and that there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
Oh God,
she thought desperately. And she wanted to lean back against him even closer, wanted to be wrapped in his arms, just wanted him to hold her and let her savor these strange moments in case they were the last physical connection with him she would ever feel.
"All right then," she heard Carlo say into the phone. "See you after I get what I came for." Concluding with a soft laugh, he hung up.

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