The Art Of Deception, Book Two, Stolen Hearts series, Romantic Suspense (13 page)

She yanked her arm away and rubbed the spot he’d touched. “Why do you keep taking my arm as if I can’t walk?”

A crooked grin lifted one corner of his mouth, and although she hadn’t thought it possible, Agent Gage of the FBI, all six feet, four inches of him, looked embarrassed. “I can’t seem not to touch you.

“Hell." He folded his arms over his chest. “You probably think I’m nuts talking like that.”

Sophie watched the horizon of her safe, familiar world sink out of sight. How could he do this to her? How could he crack open his tough exterior to give her a glimpse of the real man inside? The combination of his strength and vulnerability sank all hopes she had of surviving without getting in over her head.

She flexed open her fisted hands, stood on tiptoe and placed her palm against his cheek. The hell with it, if she was going down, Gage was going with her.

“I think you should kiss me. Please,” she added.

She felt a tremble work through his body as she slid her other hand up his chest, curled it around his neck and tugged him down to her.

“Sophie, I--”

“I think it’s time for this, don’t you?” She traced his bottom lip with her tongue and closed her eyes.

“God, Sophie, I...." His voice broke, and he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, dragging her body up against his hard length.

She wound both arms around his neck and brought her mouth to his, swallowing his groan as he turned them both as one and stepped into the dark doorway behind them. The cold, uneven brick wall pressed against her back, Gage’s hot firm body against her front. He set her down on her feet and cupped her head, then groaned again as his tongue invaded her mouth, filling her with his hot, spicy taste.

One sweep of his tongue, and hunger, voracious and reckless, ripped through her. She’d thought him too much, but understood now too much would never be enough.

She spread her hands over the wide expanse of his chest, felt his heart boom under her hand, moved her hands down his arms, down to his waist. She wanted more. She wanted everything. Her fingers fumbled with his belt.

Gage tore his mouth from hers. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I want you." She pulled his sweater out of his jeans and trailed her fingers along the top of his waistband.

“Here?”

“I’ve always fantasized doing it in a doorway like this. Don’t you find it an incredible turn-on?” Not that Special Agent Gage would let things get out of hand. She was kind of counting on that. But first, she needed him to feel the same savage hunger that consumed her.

He caught her hand and pulled it away from the front of his jeans, his breath ragged and uneven. “Just thinking about making love with you turns me on, Sophie. I don’t need to embellish the idea.”

She skimmed her hands under his sweater and over his chest. God, he was so big and beautiful. So hard. She tilted her pelvis up into his arousal. “I think it’s erotic."

Gage swore softly, dragged her hands from under his sweater and spun her around so she faced the wall, her hands pressed against the bricks. “I think it’s illegal as hell, buttercup. And I’m betting you were relying on me to say exactly that, weren’t you?” He slipped his hand under her sweatshirt and swept it across her bare belly.

“Gage, wait...." Her breath stuttered in her throat. The rough texture of his skin against her stomach sent bolts of heat shimmering through her.

“For what? For you to finish playing your little game? This is what you want, isn’t it, Sophie?” He thrust a leg between hers and pulled her back until his erection pressed against her behind.

She whimpered as he gently cupped her breast. He trailed kisses down the nape of her neck and around to her ear. “God, Soph. I want you so much. But not like this. Please.”

Sophie turned in his arms and collapsed against him. He tightened his arms around her as she closed her eyes and rested against his chest. The heat still burned between them; his arousal against her belly; her liquid warmth pulsating through her. But Gage had gentled it with his plea. Just as he had staked a claim to her heart.

“I’m scared, Vince."

 “Me, too.”

She smiled into his chest as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “What could possibly frighten you?”

Gage leaned back to look at her, his eyes dark and cautious. “You." Then pulled her back into his arms and held her close.

She should be busy with damage control, shoring up any damned thing she could find to stem the outflow of feelings that whirled around her. The euphoric sensation wouldn’t last. Not for her. Not with Gage. He posed too great a risk, made her feel too much.

She snuggled deeper into his arms. But, oh how they needed this; to hold and be held. In a minute, she’d start mending her fences.

“It’s late, Sophie. We should check Raphael’s apartment for his bag." Despite his words, he didn’t move.

Indulging herself, she ran her hands over the muscles in his back, then reluctantly pulled away. Poor man, he sounded beyond tired.

It wouldn’t occur to him to wait until morning to search the apartment. She glanced sideways at him as they entered the deserted lobby of her brother’s apartment building. Maybe he had a vested interest because of the attraction he felt for her, but she had a feeling Gage would go the whole nine yards for every one of his cases. He was good at his job because he loved it.

They were both botching things up, weren’t they? She was in danger of losing her heart, if she hadn’t already, and he was in danger of jeopardizing his job.

“What do you think you’re doing messing around with me?” Sophie closed her eyes and bit her lip. Would she never learn to think before speaking?

Gage continued walking to the elevators. He pressed the button before turning to her. “Is that what you’d call it, messing around?” 

“No, I...." His flat, opaque look made her cringe inside. Great, the big, bad cop was back again. Surely he didn’t think every time she crossed one of those invisible lines he kept drawing, she was going to back down?

“Not exactly." She glared back, trying to imitate his look, but suspected she failed miserably when the corner of his mouth twitched up. “I know you love your job, and if you don’t want to lose it, you’d better quit messing around.”

The elevator doors opened with a ping. She stepped into the cubicle and turned to deliver her final statement. “I imagine the FBI frowns on its agents fraternizing with the enemy."

She suddenly found herself crowded back into a corner of the elevator with Gage looming above her. Lord, the man knew how to use his size to advantage. The doors swished closed and the car gave a small jolt as it started upward.

“You think you’re telling me something I haven’t thought a dozen times before?”

“Probably not, but it doesn’t seem to have done you much good. And quit trying to intimidate me." Knowing he wouldn’t move until he was good and ready didn’t stop her from pressing her hand against his chest to push him away.

He leaned both hands on the wall above her head. “Why the sudden concern, Sophie? Afraid if you get another agent on the case, you won’t be able to manipulate him as easily?”

Sophie tried to absorb the impact of his accusation without flinching. She almost succeeded.

“Hell." Gage dropped his hands and turned away from her. “I bet you’ve never once lived in the suburbs.”

“The suburbs?” Still trying to recover from his first accusation, Sophie scrambled to decipher what he was talking about.

“Well, have you?”

“Of course not.”

“Exactly,” he said as if explaining an obvious point to a child.

She waited until she could trust her voice not to break. “You have a house in the suburbs?”

“Yeah." The doors to the elevator opened but neither moved.

“I hate the suburbs."

“Yeah."

When the door started to close, he stepped forward and jammed his foot in front of them. “I play baseball with the office team every second Saturday, and pool most Thursday nights. My free time is spent renovating my house. I’m going to plant a flower garden in a few weeks. When the house is finished, I plan to get married. I want kids. Maybe three.”

Sophie bowed her head as his recital ended. He hadn’t told her anything she didn’t already suspect, yet each thing he mentioned slammed another door shut between them. She dragged in a shaky breath. Damn it, it shouldn’t matter so much. She had her own life to live, her own agenda.

“I’ll try not to get in the way of you doing your job,” she said as she walked past him and into the corridor. “Just get Raphael and me out of this mess.”

Then she and Gage could both get on with their lives. Lives, as he had so succinctly pointed out, that had absolutely nothing in common. She jutted her chin out and clenched her teeth. God save her from the suburbs.

Gage watched the stiff, unforgiving line of Sophie’s back as he followed her up the stairs. Against her wishes, he’d insisted on checking out her apartment and workshop before going home.

They’d barely spoken twenty words to each other as they searched Raphael’s. If there was an identical bag to the one he had at the airport, it hadn’t been left at his apartment.

Another dead end. Gage cursed under his breath for the fiftieth time in the last hour. He hated this damn case, and he hated dead ends, and flaky artists, and people who weren’t who they said they were, and....

He hated that since kissing Sophie in the doorway feelings rose and ebbed inside him with irritating persistence. He wanted her. He couldn’t have her. He needed her. He couldn’t have her. She’d buttoned herself up tight after he said all that crap to her. Damn it, he’d expected to feel relieved, not this bottom-dropping-out-his-gut feeling. Everything he told her was true, but he’d presented it in such a way, that none of it was quite the way he’d made it sound.

The building lots were spacious in his neighborhood, the trees huge, and each house unique. So yeah, it was the suburbs, but not the all the same, suffocating kind of place he knew she’d think of when she heard the word.

And sure, he wanted to get married, but he could live without kids if the idea really bothered....

Aw, hell. He pressed his fingers against his tired eyes and followed her into the apartment. Just check the locks and windows and get out of here as fast as possible. He couldn’t even think straight at the moment. He had a lot on the line with this case, and he refused to screw it up just because Sophie jammed everything up inside him.

“Are you hungry?” She held his sports jacket out to him.

“No, I....” He bit back his reply as he took in her strained, white complexion. “Yeah. I could eat a sandwich if you’re making one for yourself.”

“Okay." She left the room without looking at him.

Gage chucked his jacket over the back of the couch the way he had earlier in the evening. He’d managed to stay away from Sophie for two whole weeks, and now in the course of one night, he’d experienced more emotions than a six month relationship. No wonder exhaustion clung to him like a bad smell.

The living room looked the same as they’d left it three hours ago. He walked down the hallway to the bathroom, checked the locked window and went into Sophie’s bedroom.

He skirted the sprawling, quilt-covered bed that half filled the room, snapped the bedside lamp on, then unlocked the window, locked it again and looked out at the blue wall of the house next door--and tried to ignore the bed behind him.

Its size didn’t surprise him. He could easily imagine Sophie sensuously stretching her beautiful little body out to her full length as she woke. Did the sun shine through the window and across the bed first thing in the morning?

“Gage."

He started at the sound of her voice. “Yeah." He turned to face her across the bed. As if anticipating her touch, his skin tightened at the memory of her soft hands exploring his chest. Right, like that was going to happen again.

Her brow puckered just above her eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Just checking the window.”

“The sandwiches are ready." She nodded toward the kitchen.

“Great."

“I didn’t make coffee because it’s late, but if you want some....”