Without A Clue (3 page)

“Oh, good. It’s not far.” They headed to the nearest station, chatting idly about the truffle case and the lack of really entertaining action.

The ride on the subway lasted just long enough for Amelia to know she liked Aden as much as she admired his looks. Charming, polite, and full of fascinating stories.

He held her hand while they waited at Giacomo’s, and she wondered at his change in demeanor, at where this flirting, remarkable companion had come from.

“No, my dad was a cop,” he told her over a bottle chianti and some calamari. “He hated the idea of me being a private investigator. I don’t follow all the rules so well, you know?”

“I can tell.” He certainly seemed to have some weird rules about her. Amelia chuckled. “Clearly I like rules. Boolean logic. That sort of thing. Boston has been less than logical for me, but I’ll get it sorted out.”“I thought you were from here?” he asked.

“I’ve been away since college. Seattle. A few smaller places with great academic libraries. Notre Dame, for one. I just—I wanted to come back, but it’s been a huge adjustment.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” He took her hand over the table, the heat in his dark brown eyes making her nipples tighten under her T-shirt bra.

“Right now so am I.” She turned her hand so she could trace the back of his with her thumb. “Why did you suddenly decide to wine and dine me?”

“I swore off swearing off.”

She raised a brow at him, but didn’t pursue it. “Mmm. Pasta course.”

By the time they’d gone through another bottle of wine and a shared tiramisu, Amelia was more than a little in love. He insisted on seeing her home, a chivalrous gesture, even if he didn’t have too far to go to get home.

“Beacon Hill. Nice,” Aden murmured, hand on the small of her back while he walked her to her steps.

“Says the man with a Back Bay brownstone. It’s tiny, but I prioritize. I loved the neighborhood.” They turned, facing each other in the classic first date stance. So awkward.

“So,” Aden said. “I really enjoyed myself tonight.”

“Me, too. Was this a date? Or was it business?” Somehow Amelia thought it was an important distinction.

Aden stepped a few inches closer, sliding his hand behind her head and cupping his fingers under her bun. He tugged her up against his chest before bending head to press his lips to hers.

The world shifted, everything in her universe falling into sharp focus. His mouth felt soft, his whiskers hard and scratchy. Aden tasted of tiramisu and coffee, with an underlying spiciness all his own.

When he pulled back slowly, she blinked, her breath coming hard and fast.

“This,” Aden said, “was a date. Goodnight, Amelia.”

“Goodnight.” As long as it wasn’t goodbye, Amelia thought this might just be the best night of her life.

Chapter Five

Aden stood outside the library, feeling an unfamiliar need to run in his gut. He needed Amelia. More specifically, he needed her research skills, which were turning out to be nearly supernatural. She had a real knack for the kinds of situations Aden found himself in as PI, and he’d begun to think of her as his partner in crime, so to speak.

Which was why Aden hadn’t come to Amelia right away with his latest case. A missing book. That seemed perfect for a librarian, right? Three antique book dealers had failed. Time to suck up his worry that he was falling hard for Amelia and ask for her help.

“She’s at lunch,” the college aged girl working the desk told him. “Can I give her a message?”

“Does she eat here?”

“She’s down at the Map Room. The café,” she clarified. “Here’s a map.”

“Thanks so much.”

Aden told himself many things on the way down to the café. Keep it businesslike. Stop with the dating and the flirting. Get a frickin’ grip.

All that good advice flew out the window when he saw Amelia seated at a table in the café, her blonde head bent over a book, no fewer than three long curls sliding out of the sides of her bun. Must be a page-turner.

"Did the butler do it?” he asked.

Amelia’s head snapped up, and she stared at him over the frames of her reading glasses. “No. Demented clown serial killer. What do you want, Aden?”

Aden blinked. “You’re angry. I’m sorry. I’ve been running around like mad.”

“Mmm.” She was starting to get that skeptical look in her eyes that so many of his exes wore when they saw him, and they’d never even had sex. “What’s missing this time?”

“A book.” He slid into the seat across from her. “Rare. Old. Recently purchased from a private collector for a public display. Disappeared the day before it was supposed to go out in the case.”

Her blue eyes narrowed, but thankfully she didn’t push harder on that. “Where have you tried?”

“Rare book dealers. Auctions. eBay.” Aden winked on the last one.

“I’ll need the title, the edition, and any distinguishing features so I know I found the correct copy.”

“You got it.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

“No, I’m angry that you’re so confusing.” Amelia blew out a breath, sending one curl flying. “Good thing you’re so cute and charming.”

Aden laughed, delighted that she was relenting. “Yeah. Good thing.”

***

The thrill of the hunt kept Amelia coming back for more, even when Aden ran colder than a Boston faucet in January.

His cases were as much an addiction as he was.

They sat together at Amelia’s favorite Indian restaurant, nibbling naan and discussing the book case as if they were really partners. Amelia loved the fantasy, but she wasn’t sure what else there might be to it.

“My boss called in me to his office today,” Amelia said, dipping her bread into a tamarind chutney.

“Yeah?” Aden crunched through a poppadum cracker. “Do tell.”“Yep. He said the PI he hired to find that lost Melville raved about one of his librarians. Research. He’s assigning me to new special projects. Thank you.”

Aden’s gaze went warm, his expressive brown eyes admiring her. “Nothing but the truth.”

“Well, I appreciate the praise, anyway.” She propped her chin on one hand. “Are we a thing?”

“What?” His eyes widened. “I mean. Uh.”

“Right.” Amelia smiled gently. “I just needed to know, Aden. I’m fine with us being friends. I am. But I’d like to know where I stand.”

“I’ve had bad luck with women, Amelia. I want to take things slow.” He looked so earnest. So damned adorable, with his tie askew and his dark hair falling over his brow. Totally not fair.

“Huh. Well, I guess I can understand caution.”

“Thanks.” There Aden went with the handholding again, she thought. His skin felt amazing against hers.

Amelia thought that same thing almost two hours later when she tugged him into her apartment, that goodnight kiss not nearly enough. Who knew when she might ever have the chance to do this again? Amelia threw caution to the wind and grabbed fate by Aden’s lapels.

“Amelia,” he murmured against her mouth, “this is not slow.”

“I know. I don’t care.” She rarely took the lead in her relationships, but she wanted this, right here and now. She pulled his tie free of his collar, then worked the buttons on his shirt. Amelia bared his chest, then stepped back a few inches to admire.

Oh, my. He had a broad chest with a sprinkling of dark hair, and brown, flat nipples. His belly proved that he did his crunches, all ridged abs. His hipbones were barely visible about his belt, hinting at that funnel they created down to his groin. Her mouth went dry, and her breath hitched in her chest.

“Take your hair down, Amelia. I want to see it down.” He pulled gently at one of the infernal curls that insisted on escaping any hairdo she managed.

Amelia laughed, then nodded, reaching up to pull out the pins. Her hair came loose from its knot and fell around her shoulders.

Aden moaned, a low, happy sound. He combed his fingers through her hair, appearing utterly fascinated. “I knew it would be so pretty. Look how it wraps around my fingers.”

She didn’t want to look at anything but him. Amelia wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her face for another kiss. When he gave it to her, he pushed his tongue into her mouth to taste her deep. Now he took control, and Amelia gloried in his strength, in his spicy, male scent.

They kissed their way to her tiny bedroom, and he tore at her clothes, the little pearl buttons on her blouse flying all over the room. She fought to scold him for it, but when he unclasped her bra and lifted her breasts against his palms, Amelia gave up caring about her shirt. His touch felt rough, urgent, and Amelia was proud that she could make him so desperate.

He rubbed his thumbs in circles around her nipples. “Your skin is so smooth, Amelia. So soft.”

“Touch me more.”

Aden pushed her down on her bed, stretching out beside her, an echo of most of her recent dreams. He slid one hand over her waist to her hip, his thumb pressing just below her navel. “I want to touch you everywhere. Are you wet for me?”She was, and Amelia squeezed her thighs together to ease the ache between them. Aden rubbed the top of her mound, then cupped the entire thing with his palm, testing her.

“You’re wearing your pants,” Amelia accused, plucking at the cloth.

“Do you have condoms, Amelia?”

“No.” She stopped dead, staring up at him.

“Neither do I. I was swearing off women, remember? I can’t guarantee I’ll control myself. So the pants stay on.”

“Such a gentleman.” She reached down with her own hand to press her palm against his zipper. “It’s a damned shame.”

Aden laughed, the sound strained. “It is. It won’t happen again. I never leave a lady hanging, though.”

Aden kissed her again, which saved her from trading more silly quips. When she spread her legs to push against his hand, he slid a finger between her folds, finding her tiny pleasure button and rubbing circles around it.

A scream bubbled up in her throat, the intensity of that single touch almost more than she could bear. She scored his chest with her nails, arching up to beg more of his touch.

When he slid a finger inside her, Amelia came apart in his arms, her orgasm sweeping through her so strongly that she thought she might have blacked out a moment. She shook, riding his hand, feeling closer to him than she’d ever thought possible.

When she came back down to earth, she tried to reach for him again, but he took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing her fingers. “I’m fine, Amelia.”

Amelia made a frustrated sound. “I want to see and touch.”

“Next time. I swear.” He tucked her close against him, kissing the top of her head.

She put a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart. Next time. The problem with Aden was that Amelia never knew if next time would actually occur.

Chapter Six

The week had left Aden exhausted and grouchy.

His job was going great. Word was getting around about his nose for finding missing objects d’art, and more and more of Boston’s elite were hiring him to find emerald rings hocked by their maids and Ming vases stolen from displays in small family museums.

Aden knew he owed a goodly bit of his recent success to Amelia, which made him feel even guiltier for abandoning her once more. They’d spent three of four glorious nights at her apartment, making out until he could barely see, but Aden hadn’t been able to bring himself to make love to her fully. That final act seemed like too much of a commitment.

Now he was going to ask for Amelia’s help again, and Aden had the grace to feel thoroughly ashamed of himself.

Amelia sat at her desk, a pair of knitting needles in her hand. The lady who sat across the desk from Amelia looked like an earth mother type with wild red hair and freckles.

“Isn’t it some sort of cliché to take up knitting if you’re a librarian?” Amelia asked.

The other lady cackled like a bright bird, the sound infectious. “No more than it is for a novelist. Trust me, it helps calm my mind. Besides, how can you help me find the technique I need if you have no idea what knitting even looks like.”

“True.” Amelia glanced up and saw him, her smile fading. “Aden. Hello.”

“Hi, Amelia. Is there a time I should come back? I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Bah.” The other lady snorted. “We were just having a stitch and bitch. I’m Mandie Myzer.”

“Aden Bourne. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Mandie grabbed her knitting and stuffed it in a bag. “I’ll just go look at the music room. We can resume when you’re done.”

Aden nodded, bemused by the way Mandie ran off.

“She’s becoming a good friend,” Amelia said, taking off her reading glasses. “I might have told her it’s been a week since you even emailed.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry, Amelia. I’ve been slammed.”

“That’s okay. I’ve been busy since my boss got wind of my mad skills. What’s up?”

Aden grinned, knowing the case itself would warm her. “I need a date for a very chi-chi gala. I’m crashing the party to find a thousand dollar case of wine. Stolen. Want to come?”