Hunt Me (Love Thieves #3) (22 page)

“No, I’m good. If your grandson has a date the next time you have to shop, call me. I love shopping with you.”

“I’ll be baking on Sunday.”

Mrs. Bruno’s version of thank you always involved fresh blueberry muffins and cranberry scones. Sophie gained five pounds after every favor. Fortunately, the muffins were worth every pound.

“Great! Have a good night, Mrs. Bruno.” Sophie leaned one foot onto the stairs heading up to the sixth floor but waited until Mrs. Bruno closed and locked her door. When the third dead bolt slid into place with a
snikt
, she relaxed the false cheer in her smile.

Exhaustion crept up her limbs as she continued her climb to her floor. The image of Royce Hinkley’s face swam into her exhausted vision. The cops said he wasn’t dead. They hadn’t found any evidence of his death. She couldn’t have imagined the gunshot. Her passion was the past, not cops and robbers or gun battles at the O.K. Corral.

Sophie slid her key into the locks and undid them one at a time. Tears burned her eyes and a sob stuck in her throat. She hadn’t liked Dr. Hinkley, but no one deserved to be shot.

Was he shot?

The last lock gave and Sophie leaned on the door and opened it. Her bag weighed heavy on her shoulder, and all she could think about was a shower or a bath and a good night’s sleep. Then back to the museum to her archive and to making sense from chaos. Dr. Hinkley could come back from his sabbatical, and it would turn out to just be too many episodes of her favorite crime shows infecting her with their gestalt.

She pushed inside, purse sliding down her arm and dropping on the floor. Hitting the lights with one hand, she shut the door with the other and snapped the locks into place, one at a time. It took her a moment to focus, to see the man sprawling on her sofa, his ankles crossed one over the other.

Dark hair tumbled over a ruggedly good-looking face of chiseled features under a growth of stubble. His eyes were soft amber, like fine liquor, and his lips were full and even as they spread into a smile.

Sophie gaped.

“
Bonjour, chérie
.” The lilting French rolling off his tongue sounded as sexy as it was unexpected.

She opened her mouth and screamed, scrambling for the door locks, but, just as she wrenched open the door, he leaned past her and pushed it closed.

“I’m sorry, Professor Kingston, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The heat of his body burned into her as he pressed her against the door.

Sophie stared at him. The shooter from the museum’s French washed over her. But this man was taller.

Much taller.

“What are you doing in my apartment?”

“I need your help.”

“Breaking into my apartment is a bizarre way to ask for help.”
How do I sound so very calm?
Her heart beat against her ribs like a hummingbird desperate for escape.

“
Oui.
” Tall, Dark, and French had the grace to look abashed. “My apologies. I waited at the museum for a few hours, and then outside your apartment building. I admit, I got a little tired. I came inside to see if you’d gone out of town, but, fortunately, here you are.”

Sophie’s mouth fell open farther. Her heart stuttered over his grin but quickened at the sense of outrage.

“Are you going to let me go?”

“Are you still going to scream?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Well, then, I shall hold you here until you have considered the options.
Oui?
”

“My options?” Sophie’s eyebrows climbed. Was this man for real? Outrage smothered fear. “My options? You broke into my apartment. You’re holding me against my will. You just confessed to stalking me. And you want me to consider my options? Are you out of your mind?”

The bastard grinned. Grinned! A broad, toothy, flashing grin that sent shivers up her spine. Her stomach flipped over. He brushed so close the scent of his aftershave tickled her nostrils. She fought the urge to take a deeper inhale, to taste the flavor of the man on her tongue.

“I’ve been accused of worse,
chérie
. Fortunately for you, I am not insane. But I do need your help, and I do need to talk to you without you screaming for help and putting us through a long night of uncomfortable questions.”

“I suppose you have a counter offer?” Had she gone completely insane? Imagining a coworker felled by a bullet? A day of bad coffee and questioning at the police station? She was hungry. She was tired. Maybe that explained why she would entertain this lunacy.

“Of course. Dinner. Some wine. A conversation. After which, I go away and you get some sleep.” Her uninvited guest trailed a finger down her cheek, sending shivers radiating across her flesh. “And forgive me,
chérie
, but you look very tired.”

“I’ve had an abysmal day. I am not in the mood for entertaining, much less having a meal with someone I don’t know who broke into my apartment and is currently threatening me.”

“I am not.”

“Yes. You are.” Sophie punctuated the words with a hard shove against his chest. To her surprise, he stepped back, nimble as a cat, and held his hands out wide.

It was her chance. She could slip out the door and make a run for it. If nothing else, she could yell her lungs out. She knew all of her neighbors. Valorie across the hall with her five kids would call the police in a heartbeat.

But Sophie didn’t yell.

She didn’t yank the door open.

She didn’t bolt.

“What’s your name?” Sophie asked instead.

“Then we chat? Perhaps over wine?”

“No, then I check your references and perhaps we meet tomorrow for coffee.”

He laughed a long, inviting, and warm chuckle beckoning her to abandon caution for the sheer exhilaration of leaping.

“I am not sure what references you intend to check. Is there a database for cat burglars?”

“Is that what you are?”

“An outdated term to be certain, but I rather doubt you will find me listed under some typical B&E reference of a library database.” His too-sexy mouth twitched. He seemed to enjoy the banter.

Call me crazy, but so am I.

“Then maybe Interpol would be a better reference point.”

“You wound me, little bird. Interpol is extremely low brow for someone of my caliber.”

“And I only have your word for that,” Sophie countered.

“True.” He stepped back, giving her more space, and, still, Sophie didn’t make a run for it. Despite her better judgment, the Frenchman intrigued the hell out of her tired mind, arousing her curiosity. He aroused a lot more than her curiosity, but she ignored the traitorous thought.

Sophie studied the man standing in the middle of her living room. Surrounded by the muted, antique colors of soft golds and browns, he was a splash of color, vibrant, alive, and very raw. The twinkle in his eyes teased her, dared her.

“Why are you here?”

“Existentially?”

“No. Physically. Here. My apartment. Why are
you
here?”

“Honestly?”

“Call me quirky, but I think that’s exactly what this situation calls for.”

His laughter washed over her. The corners of Sophie’s mouth tugged wider. She loved the sound of his laughter.

“My name is Pietr Sauvage. I am here because I need your help.”

Table of Contents

(Untitled)

(Untitled)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Catch Me by Heather Long

Treasure Me by Heather Long