Steal My Heart (5 page)

“I’ll have to do better, then.” Her hands beat his to the hem of his skintight crew top. She slipped her fingers under the fabric, tugged the shirt up and over his head. Then her hands slid over his muscles. He’d always kept in good shape. She felt weak at the touch, the sight of his chest, his biceps, his six-pack.

He lifted a hand, pulled down one of the spaghetti straps of her tank top, and ran his tongue over her shoulder. Her knees buckled.

“I don’t think we’re even.” He lifted her up and plopped her down on the bed, then kicking off his shoes, picked up the bottom of her tank and planted a kiss on her stomach, stoking the fire inside her.

“You’d better watch out,” she warned. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“But Angel Eyes, I live for danger.” He wasted no time. The next instant, the cotton of her top was over her face. She lifted her arms and it came off as if she’d never had in on, baring her breasts.

In breathless anticipation, she watched a smile of delight spread across his face. Amazing how he could fill her with delicious sensation with only his gaze. She didn’t have to wait long. He moved his hands, glided over her breasts, teasing her, making her mad with desire for him.

It took all the strength she had to push his hands away. “We’re uneven again. It’s your turn.” She reached for the waistband and tugged at the tight spandex.

He let her struggle awhile, clearly enjoying her frantic efforts, clearly growing more aroused, then in one swift movement, stepped onto the floor, removed his pants and kicked them aside.

Oh yes, he was aroused. But she had only a moment to enjoy her victory, before he was over her again.

“Your turn.” Gently, he cupped her a breast in one hand and bent over her, grazed his lips against hers, then traveled across her cheek, to her neck, down to the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.

How well she knew his touch. His strong, masterful fingers glided slowly, playfully over her skin. Along her belly to her hips, her thighs, her knees. Her breath hitched when he circled and turned back, stroking the inner flesh of her legs.

For what seemed like an eternity, he paused to tug at her panties. She angled her hips to allow him to push them down, over her knees to her calves. She kicked them onto the floor, just as deftly as he’d removed his pants.

“That’s better. Now we’re really even.”

He returned to her thighs, his fingers dancing over her flesh, ending their journey between her legs, at her soft, warm center. As if she didn’t know he’d been going for the part of her that yearned for him most, the part that almost called out for him.

He teased at her core with his fingertips, making her moan with pleasure. She heard him laugh with delight as he plunged a finger into her. She was stunned by the onslaught of emotion inside her. As if all the tenderness, all the desire she had ever felt for him had balled up in her heart and exploded. She gasped aloud, shocked at her own reaction, her own helpless need.

She came suddenly, with the fury of a windstorm, and just before the throbbing ended, he slipped inside her, making her cry out with even more need.

He bent toward her, kissing her face, her lips as he moved inside her, making her burn once again.

Yes. Oh, yes. This was what she wanted. This was what she yearned for. This warmth, this closeness. There was nothing like it in the world. There was no one else who could make her feel such mind-blowing sensation.

His moments quickened inside her. His muscles worked against her body, driving them both toward the precipice of lusty climax. He looked at her and his eyes told her more than she wanted to see.

He still cared for her, didn’t he?

She couldn’t process that now, didn’t know how to respond. All she could do was close her eyes as passion swallowed her whole, and together they hurdled over the cliff.

Paige awoke with an ache in her heart.

Mark’s arms and legs were tangled around her, her arms wrapped around his waist. Just like when they were married.

But they weren’t married now. There’d been too much pain, too much grief since then. Then there had been Holly. The only bright spot in her life now. Holly.

Her eyes bolted open. Daylight.

What time was it?

She squinted at the numbers beside the bed. Nine. It had been nearly dawn when they’d fallen asleep. Oh, God. She had to be at Déjeuner by eleven. She had to meet the man in the white suit with the red ring.

She inched herself up on her elbow and saw their clothes strewn all over the floor. She leaned back and noticed the seductive smile on Mark’s face. The memory of last night’s passion came back to her.

She’d slept with him. She’d actually slept with him. What had she been thinking? She must be harboring some self-destructive psychosis. She hated Mark Storm. Mark Storm had ruined her life, broken her heart, nearly made her lose her job.

When the news of his arrest came out, Bigelow had called her on the carpet. It had taken all the persuasive skill she possessed to convince her boss that she’d had no knowledge of Mark’s “activities.” At last, thank God, he’d believed her and had actually done a one-eighty. If Bigelow hadn’t gone to bat for her, the higher-ups would have fired her from the paper.

She thought of Mark’s offer to help last night. Of the horrid voice on the phone.

“Come alone.”

Mark might want to be a hero and bring in the FBI, but he could bring in the National Guard and it wouldn’t stop the insane maniac who’d taken Holly.

She was on her own.

Glad he had always been a deep sleeper, she disentangled herself from Mark’s embrace without waking him. The loss of his warmth and the chill in the air stung more than she expected, but she ignored it and climbed out of bed.

Silently, she moved to the closet and grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt, some shoes. She looked back at him. He had his arm stretched out where she’d been. Pushing aside the feelings of tenderness that sight aroused, she turned her gaze to the nightstand.

He’d laid her purse down next to her alarm clock. Giddy with relief, she tiptoed to it, snatched it off the surface.

Muttering, he rolled over.

She held her breath.

Then he started to snore slightly. That sensual, heavy breathing. It made her want to crawl back under the covers and make love to him again. Mark Storm must be the only man alive with a sexy snore. But she couldn’t afford to give in to his charisma. That part of her life was over.

For good.

She whisked down the hall and into the kitchen, stopping to retrieve her cell from the mantelpiece.

Her monotone everyday handbag hung on the closet door. She looked down at the evening bag. Wouldn’t do for Déjeuner.

Quickly, she reached for her bag, opened the evening purse and put the necklace in its temporary home. Even in the dim light the jewels shimmered with heart-stopping beauty. She was a jewel thief. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. But she had no choice. She caught sight of Jack the Rabbit where she’d left him on the counter. On an impulse, she reached for the toy and stuffed him into the purse as well. Then she grabbed her car keys, opened the front door without making a noise, and bolted for her car.

###

In the dark recesses of his mind, Mark heard a door latch. Slowly, he stirred as delicious sensations came back to him.

The feel of soft skin beneath his hands. The lilac scent of silky dark hair against his cheek. The taste of luscious lips against his own. Oh, Paige. They were back together. She was his again. His heart soared.

He reached out for her—and found nothing.

Paige. He bolted upright in bed, his arms clutching the air, as if he expected her to materialize beside him.

He should have known better.

As fast as he could, he pulled on his pants, shoved his feet into his shoes, and raced into the kitchen. On the counter lay the evening purse. He reached for it, opened it, peered inside it. It was as empty as the house.

“Dammit, Paige,” he said to the air. “How could you go off on your own to face a kidnapper?”

He tossed the purse down and dragged a hand through his hair. He knew how. He knew why. Her body might have surrendered to him, but her mind was another story.
She didn’t trust him. How could he expect her to with their history? But that didn’t change the fact that she was making a dangerous mistake.

He glanced at the clock over the fridge. There was enough time to beat her to the deli.

He raced back to the bedroom to get the rest of his burglary outfit, glad he always carried a few sets of clothes in his duffel bag.

He’d change in the car.

Paige stepped into the crowded upscale
deli as nervous as a desperate actress auditioning for a Broadway play. Or a mother whose child was in danger. Though her heart was pounding, she tried to appear casual as she stepped up to the counter and ordered a plain coffee.

“That’s it?” The barrister scowled after pouring the cup and handing it to her.

“Yes. That’s it.” Paige gave her a few dollars and took her drink to the condiment table. She poured a single daub of cream into the paper cup and reached for a packet of artificial sweetener. As she stirred the concoction, she turned to scan the noisy place.

There were more people in the small dining area than she’d expected for a Saturday brunch hour. Most of the sleek, Swedish-design tables were filled with college-aged kids. A couple of girls with nose rings chatting to each other. Several nerdy-looking young guys with glasses or rumpled hair and clothes, crouched anxiously over their laptops, probably Facebooking or blogging or playing a game. An older couple holding hands over a donut.

Finally, in a shaded corner along the window, she spotted a big man in a white suit reading a newspaper.
Was that him?
There was no little girl with him. She moved toward him and saw a large ruby ring on his left hand.

Had to be him.

She took a deep breath and stopped at his table. “Is this seat free?”

He glanced up from his paper, eyed her a moment like she was an item on the menu he was trying to decide if he wanted. Then he nodded.

“Thanks.” She sat down, exhaling her nerves.

The man continued to read the paper. He was foreign-looking and large. Very large. At least six foot four, with the shoulders of a WWF wrestler. His neck was thick and brawny muscles beneath the sleeves of his coat seemed to stretch the material to its limit. He had a chocolate brown skin, high cheekbones and dark hair he wore short dreadlocks.

His whole demeanor struck fear in her. Was this the kidnapper? She’d assumed he’d been working alone, but maybe this was a partner. Or some sort of courier.

Where was Holly?

She wasn’t going to give up the necklace until they gave her Holly back.

She’d done what the voice on the phone had told her. He’d better keep his end of the bargain.

The man didn’t speak, didn’t even look at her.

She sipped her coffee, wondering what to expect. For all she knew, he could pull out a gun and shoot her at any moment. Though he probably wouldn’t do that in a crowded coffee shop. She decided to break the ice.

“Have you heard about the child who’s gone missing?” she ventured.

The man didn’t respond.

Maybe this wasn’t the right guy. She turned around, searching for another man in a white suit. All she saw was the same customers. This guy was the only one here who fit the description she’d been given.

Maybe she was supposed to meet him outside Déjeuner. Her stomach as tight as a strait jacket, she glanced out the window.

People were hurrying along the sidewalk. A small crowd was bunched at the corner waiting for the light to change. Several feet from the corner stood a bus stop bench. A good-looking man in casual clothes was leaning against it, cell in his hand. She squinted at him and her breath caught. Mark. Just as she saw him, he pretended to fiddle with the phone. He must have spotted her through the window.

Anger flooded her. He’d come here to spy on her. Or to keep an eye on her, she was sure he’d say. Damn.

“You are not mistaken,” the man across from her said in a deep, Jamaican-sounding accent that was frightening.

Paige jumped and turned back to glare at him.

He stared straight through her with big, wide-set brown eyes. Eyes with a cold look of hate in them. Casually, he folded his newspaper and laid it down in front of her. “The story is all there.”

All there? What did that mean? A flurry of questions ran through her mind.
Who are you? Who do you work for? Why are you doing this?
If it were an interview for one of her columns, she wouldn’t hesitate to ask them. But when her daughter’s life was on the line, she turned to jelly. And hated herself for it.

“All there?”

“All there.” He gave a quick nod, rose, and straightened his coat.

Paige didn’t know what to think. “Wait,” she said, grabbing the man’s arm. Then she lowered her voice. “Don’t you have something to
give
me?”

He pulled out of her grasp and tapped the newspaper with his ruby-ringed finger. “All in there.” Then he left, disappearing into the crowd on the sidewalk.

Her mind reeling, Paige turned back to the paper and opened it gingerly. Inside was a long white business envelope. Her hands shaking, she picked it up, slipped a finger under the seal and pulled out a single piece of black construction paper. She unfolded it. There was a key inside. And a message made with cutout letters from a magazine.

Gorsky’s Gym off 12
th
in Coney Island. 6 p.m. tonight. Locker, 243. Use this key. Follow instructions inside.

She stared at the paper, her heart pounded with anger and confusion and fear. Where was Holly? Where was her little girl? Hardly able to breathe, she read the last line.

Remember, come alone. No police. No Feds. Or you won’t see her again.

Her head spun.
Feds?
Did the kidnapper know about Mark? How could he? She glared out the window.

Mark was gone.

###

Rage nearly had Mark frozen against the bench as he watched the man in the white suit emerge from Déjeuner.

Him? He
was the kidnapper?

Mark never would have believed it in a million years. Memories rushed through his mind like a windstorm. Not very pleasant memories. From that man he’d learned how to be quiet on a heist. How to keep his mouth shut afterward. And that you should never, ever try to cheat the boss. When Mark became the favorite, he’d incurred the jealousy of that man. That’s when he’d learned to watch his back.

Follow him
, his gut told him.

He took off.

Mark sprinted through the crowd on the sidewalk, keeping back far enough not to be noticed. Or at least he hoped. He followed the man across the next street against the light. If he could find out where he was going, he might get a clue about where Paige’s daughter was. But before they reached the next block, the man clicked open a black Mercedes parked along the curb, slid inside and drove off.

Mark stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He stared at the rear plate, memorizing the number but he knew it would do no good. It had already been changed out. Or stolen, or altered in some way. He was only too familiar with the techniques.

He watched the vehicle spin out of its parking space and speed off down Fifth.

Mark had wondered if it was his old mentor who was after the Fantasia necklace. Surely Joel Jimar, known on the street as The Jamaican, couldn’t be working for Laroche now. He’d broken with the stingy tyrant when Mark had. Or so he had thought. If Jimar was still with Laroche that would throw an even more dangerous wrench into the mix. The man could be vicious.

Jimar’s words rang in his ears. The words he’d uttered after the sock in the jaw he’d given him the first night Mark had held back a little of the take for himself.

No one crosses me, Storm. And no one crosses the boss. No one.

On the sidewalk, Mark shifted his weight. He should call Foley. If he was up against Laroche and Jimar, he could use some extra manpower. Besides, he’d just had a screaming message from his boss wanting to know where the hell he was.

But last night Paige had begged him not to get involved. Not to bring the Feds in. He stared down the street and rubbed the back of his neck.

He’d have to smooth talk her with all he had. He’d have to really turn on the charm and convince her. Then he’d call Foley and fill him in.

He turned and hustled back to the deli, hoping she hadn’t left.

###

Paige sat staring at the cutout letters, her coffee cold and forgotten on the table. Gradually she became aware of a figure standing beside her.

Slowly she raised her head and caught sight of Mark’s cocky half grin.

He had the audacity to come in here now? She eyed his tight jeans and the shirt that hugged his attractive muscles. Did he keep a whole wardrobe in his trunk? His dark wavy hair was combed back with gel, and it glistened as sexily as his sapphire blue eyes. Why did he have to be so good-looking?

He held out a plate to her. “Everything bagel with strawberry cream cheese. Do you still like these as much as you used to?”

She glared up at him, wanting to barf on his shoes. “If I were hungry, I would have ordered one.”

He set the plate in front of her and sat down. “You always said breakfast was the most important meal of the day.”

His gaze was on the open letter. Quickly, she folded it and shoved it into the envelope along with the key. Then, despite herself, she pinched off a bite of the bagel and put it in her mouth. It was delicious. She was hungrier than she thought.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset. I was simply passing by when I saw you in here.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and pushed the plate away. “Do you think I’m a fool, Mark? I saw you watching me from out there.” She nodded toward the window.

His face became granite hard as he dropped the act. “The man in the white suit.”

“What about him?”

He studied her a long moment, his jaw flexing, as if he wasn’t sure he could trust her with what he was about to say. Finally, his words came out on a ragged exhale. “I know him.”

Paige’s heart nearly stopped. She didn’t know what to think. Or whether she was more stunned or angry. “You
know
him?”

“I used to work with him in my…former life.”

“Your life as a jewel thief.”

He nodded, his mouth a grim line.

Her head began to ache. Someone Mark used to steal with had taken Holly? Or more likely worked for whoever had taken her. What did that mean? “Are you sure that was him?”

With a faraway look, he tapped his fingers on the table. “Yes, I’m sure.”

It didn’t make sense. Someone from Mark’s past was using her to get the Fantasia necklace? Her mind reeled. Was Mark in on this? “Is this a setup, Mark? Did you take my daughter?”

His face flashed with sudden rage at her accusation. “No. Hell, no. How could you think I’d do such a thing?” He winced then leaned across the table to whisper. “Okay, so I don’t have a sterling past but I’m not into kidnapping.”

She glared at him.

He pulled out his cell. “Do you want me to call my boss and prove it to you?”

She raised her hands. “No. Please.” Okay, okay. That was rash. She could tell last night Mark had no idea she had a daughter. And she supposed the world of jewel thieves was a small one. “So you know this guy. Do you know where he lives? How to contact him?”

His expression turned thoughtful. After a moment, he shook his head. “He wouldn’t stay in one place. Certainly not in the last place he lived when I worked with him.”

“You’re right. That would be too easy.”

He reached for her, wrapped his hand around her wrist. “I promise you I’m going to find your daughter.” His eyes were more solemn than she’d ever seen them. And more sincere.

Suddenly she knew he meant it and it touched her. Despite everything he’d done. Despite their ruined marriage, his words touched her. He truly wanted to help.

But she thought of the threat in that letter and knew she couldn’t let him. Her father had always told her she could do anything she put her mind to. And so she’d put her mind to saving he daughter. “What I need you to promise me, Mark, is that you’ll let me handle this by myself.”

“Paige, these men are dangerous.”

“Mark, please don’t—”

“The people I work for know what they’re doing. They have experts who deal with this sort of thing all the time.”

The emotion in his deep blue eyes gave her heart a twinge. What was it about this man? Even in the direst of situations she wanted to go to bed with him? No, she was through with that.

Tired of arguing, she sat back in her chair. Why was he always so stubborn? Yet again, her eyes began to fill. She was tired of that too. “Mark, I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t know what it’s like.” She didn’t dare say any more. She looked at him with all the earnestness she had. “But you have to understand. I have to do this on my own. If I don’t and anything happens to Holly…How could I live with myself?” Her voice broke but she took a deep breath and went on. It had to be said. “Mark, if you ever cared for me, if you ever really loved me, you’ll promise me that.”

His jaw hardened and she knew she’d hit the right nerve. He sat staring at her as if they were the last two people on earth. For a long moment, he held her gaze and said nothing.

At last, he nodded and spoke in a low, steady voice. “All right, Angel Eyes. You win. I promise.”