hurt you.”
Annie’s heart did a stupid little leap at the brave, confident statement.
“Uh…” His gaze ran over her body. “You do remember you ripped half of it off, right?”
Oh. Yeah. Mostly she just remembered him ripping off his own shirt. That had been nice. She felt a little funny thinking about it. A little light-headed. “Well, the dress does look better now.”
“Yes, it does.”
She felt his hand on her face. A big, warm, slightly calloused hand, and without thinking she turned her cheek into the palm and closed her eyes. Sighed. Wondered if she started coughing again would he rip off his pants this time. That would be nice. “Hey, cop man.”
“Yes, Pink?”
She didn’t open her eyes, just concentrated on the feel of his hand on her. “I thought I saw Amelia. From Grunberg. She’s my fairy godmother. You know, like Cinderella had? Only she doesn’t sing.”
“Annie?”
“What would my old nanny be doing here?”
“Ah, hell,” he muttered. Then he put his hands, those wonderful hands of his, on her shoulders and gently shook. “Come on, baby, snap out of it. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Baby. He’d called her baby. It made her smile dreamily. “I’ll be your baby,” she said. “If you call off the wedding.”
“Come.” He hoisted her up into his arms, which were deliciously corded with strength.
“Come?” She sighed against the delicious warmth of his bare chest. “I don’t know about that.” She sighed again and set her head on his very wide, very lovely shoulder. “I should tell you, I can’t seem to have an orgasm with a man.”
He made a rough sound, and for a moment went still.
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, needing to know the truth from a man’s perspective. “Do you think sex is overrated?”
He choked. His hands tightened on her, and since one was on her bare thigh, and the other on her ribs just beneath her breasts, it caused an interesting reaction within her own body.
“Sex.” She put her nose to his shoulder because he smelled good. “I want to know if it’s as overrated as I think it is.”
“You think sex is…overrated?”
“Um…” Suddenly, with his hands causing such an interesting reaction, she couldn’t be sure. “Put me down, I’m feeling better now. I can help-” She wriggled, trying to get loose, but he merely tightened his grip.
“Don’t,” he demanded, staring down at the bodice of her dress, reminding her that she wasn’t exactly sewn in, and that any little unplanned movement could free a nipple without warning.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’d help if you didn’t speak or move.”
Yes. She could do that. Only because she felt dizzy and nauseous. In order not to stare at his bare chest- possibly the most distracting sight she’d ever seen-she tipped her head up. That’s when she saw the corner loft. “There’s one more floor.”
Just as she said it, a sound came from the exact location they’d just been. The elevator shaft.
Their faces jerked toward each other. His eyes were the color of the darkest of dark chocolate. Her very favorite flavor. “I’m not going to die in this dress,” she said.
He squeezed her gently. “Nor me in this tux.”
“The loft?”
“The loft.”
He set her down. She let him lead, because after all, it had been her idea. And if she had her heart in her throat, wondering if she’d feel the unspeakable pain of a bullet, she could try to distance herself by staring at his butt as they silently made their way to the loft.
Another woman owned that butt, she reminded herself.
They made it to the stairs, ducking and dodging through the rows of boxes. The problem became not the threat behind them, but the condition of the stairs and loft itself. Archaic was too kind a word. Given the heavy layer of dust and spider webs lining everything in sight, whatever was in the boxes up there on the small, rather thin-looking floor had been there a good long time.
Annie put her hand on the wooden banister that was more splinters than handrail. The stairs didn’t look any better off, and she wondered if it would even hold their weight. “Good thing I skipped breakfast.”
“It’ll hold. It’s holding all those boxes.”
Good point. She wished she believed it. “So up we go then.”
“That’s right.” He touched her arm. “You’re doing great. We’ll get out of here yet, okay? Together.”
Together.
He was acknowledging her. Respecting her.
It was entirely possibly every single bone in her body melted right then and there, because never, in her rather adventurous life, had a man really respected her as an equal.
And he was getting married. Well, she’d go home and lick her wounds over the unexpected and startlingly real attraction she had for someone else’s husband when the wedding was good and over.
First they had to survive. So up the stairs she went, carefully, wondering if he was watching her butt like she’d watched his. Just in case, she swung her hips, getting so into it that she was at the top of the stairs before she realized her cop hadn’t followed her at all.
He was gone, vanished back into the smoke.
KYLE QUIETLY and quickly made his way through the warehouse back to the elevator shaft. Staying hidden by a stack of boxes, he peered out, and sure enough, there was Jimmy, peeking his head out the opening they’d climbed up. Waiting. Gun in hand.
Kyle pulled back. Where were the cops? Waiting for the smoke to flush them out? Did they even realize he and Annie were in here? He didn’t know, and one thing Kyle hated was the unknown.
He could make his way to the wall of windows and wave around like a damn flag until they saw him, or he could go back and keep Annie safe until Jimmy was caught. If he’d been alone, he would have said the hell with waiting, and gone after Jimmy himself.
But there was the fire to worry about. And Annie. A princess of all things. He remembered now, in the distant corners of his crowded mind, being told that there would be some very special foreign royals attending the wedding. But he’d been told a million other details, all of which had made his eyes glaze over.
He definitely would have remembered if he’d been told a princess with golden hair and even more golden eyes was coming-a woman with major attitude, a smile guaranteed to drain all brain cells and a body designed to make a grown man beg.
He stole back to the loft. They had to move. But one look produced no Annie. His heart all but stopped. What if she hadn’t stayed up there? What if she’d followed him back around, and was right this moment heading toward Jimmy-The-Scum, who took pleasure in hurting people, especially women?
No. She had to be up there. She was smart, she’d hidden herself. God, let her just be hiding. He took the stairs as fast as he dared, imagining her hurt, bleeding, or worse. Taking care, he made his way across the loft floor that was little more than floor joists and a few pieces of plywood tossed down. There were big, gaping holes between the wood that allowed him to see all the way through to the third floor beneath him, and he imagined the worst, imagined-
Anything other than the toes poking out from what appeared to be a stack of forgotten white wedding dresses. The toes weren’t moving, and since Annie hadn’t been still a single second from the moment he’d first seen her, his blood ran cold. He surged forward on the rickety planks and lifted the white dress.
“What took you so long?” she hissed, pulling his shirt away from her mouth, sitting up so fast he fell back on his butt, narrowly missing a huge gap in the plywood where he would have plunged to the floor below.
