Jinxed!

And take him it did. At her back, his fingers closed over the material of her thin top, fisting in it so that he felt bare skin.

Heated, smooth, bare skin.

Once upon a time he’d known how every inch of her tasted, and she’d tasted like heaven. He had no doubt that hadn’t changed, and his mouth watered just thinking about putting his mouth on her.

Everywhere.

“You kiss the same,” she murmured against his mouth. “It is you…” Her lips slid along his jaw. “The whole palm-reading thing threw me off balance, but deep down, I knew…”

Palm reading? He had no idea what she was talking about, but he turned his head to capture her mouth again, deepening the kiss, and when he’d drowned in her, when they’d drowned in each other, she pulled back.

“Say it,” she whispered intensely, breathlessly, completely and one hundred percent undoing him. “Say it.”

Sunk, he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Ian,” she urged.

Hell. His heart was thumping against hers and he was sucking in air like a beached fish. “Yes. It’s me.” Goddammit.

“I knew it!” She let out a low laugh. “God. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry.” And he was. He really was one big sorry son-of-a-bitch.

“And why are we handcuffed together? Are you a cop?”

“FBI agent.”

“So you thought what, that I was breaking and entering?”

The story. He needed to remember his story. Not easy when he had her in his arms, his engines still revving. “I was here-”

“Because of the party?”

That worked. “Yes. The party.” He could feel her looking at him, clearly absorbing his hesitation.

“You were on a date,” she said.

Right. Only what kind of slime would be on a date and yet kiss another woman? “Uh…yeah. A date.”

“She left you?”

Yes, if “she” was his very male partner. And if by left, she meant Danny taking Ian’s car home because of a nasty case of the Shouldn’t-Have-Had-That-Whole-Pizza.

Up until that point he and Danny had been narrowing in on their antiquities/fencing case, the one that had taken up the past six months of their lives. The case involved an entire ring of thieves involved in selling stolen antiques, apparently led by two: Steve and Al Adams, partners in the antiquities auction house that they stood in at this very moment.

Up until last night, everything had been quiet, mostly just research and endless tailing on his and Danny’s part, but then last night they’d discovered the two dead bodies in Al’s garage-the informants who’d led Ian and Danny to the antiquities business in the first place. Yeah, things were ratcheting up. “I’m here alone now.”

“Oh, Ian.”

God, she bought it. She bought that he’d been on a date and then dumped, and he felt like crap.

Her fingers were gentle on his jaw. “I can give you a ride home.”

Lower than crap.

“So why are you up here?” she asked. “In the antiquities office, when it’s closed? Handcuffing me?”

Good question. And a valid one. “I came up here to see you again.”

Or investigate you.

Pick one.

“Oh.” Confusion clouded her voice as she tugged lightly on the handcuffs. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

Ah, hell. Hurt had replaced her fear, and while he was glad she was no longer afraid, hurting her was pretty much the last thing he wanted to do.

Too bad he didn’t always get to do what he wanted.

He had to tell her some of the truth. “I didn’t tell you because I can’t be seen here tonight.”

“What do you mean? People saw you downstairs.”

“Doubtful. I blended in. No one can know,” he repeated, lifting her face to his in the dark. “No one. Do you understand?”

His question hit a brick wall of silence.

In fact, she was silent for so long he nearly checked for a pulse, except that he could still feel her heart thundering against his.

“You’re looking at me funny,” she said very quietly. “Am I in trouble, Ian?”

He touched her hair and fought with himself against pressing his face into the sweet spot of her neck. Yeah, she was in trouble.

And so was he.

5

“IAN?” CHLOE WHISPERED IN the dark. She was still touching him, one hand on his face, the other linked to his by the handcuffs.

Handcuffs.

She was handcuffed to Ian McCall, which, she reminded herself, wasn’t the oddest thing that had happened.

Not when she thought about that kiss they’d just shared.

That explosive kiss. Explosive and wildly passionate and hotter than anything she’d experienced since…well, since him. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Who are you watching? What’s going on in here that requires an FBI agent?”

He pressed his forehead to hers and answered her question with one of his own. “Chloe, why were you in here tonight?”

“I heard a noise.”

“You have a key?”

“I do their books, and when they’re out of town, I keep an eye on things.”

“So you’re close friends with them?”

She went still from the very inside. Still and cold. “Why does this suddenly feel like an interrogation?”

He didn’t answer that, either, and she slid her hand down his taut arm to grab the flashlight, which she lifted to see his face.

He didn’t flinch but looked right at her from those once dreamy eyes, which now held more than a hint of the hunger she’d just experienced.

And something else, something that made alarms go off in her head, even more than the handcuffs.

Worry. “Ian. You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“Let’s just get out of here,” he said, turning away.

Oh, no. She wasn’t going anywhere without answers. So she pulled him back, unfortunately dropping the flashlight to do so.

It hit hard, and, given that the light flickered and went out, it also broke.

“Two for two,” he murmured.

His low, slightly gruff voice, disembodied in the dark, seemed to ruffle something within her.

Or maybe the kiss had done that.

Or just his close proximity. Who knew? All she knew was she couldn’t take a breath without him knowing, and vice versa. Granted they were handcuffed, but they could have made more room between them. Neither of them had. Even after all this time, even after their awkward meeting and more awkward second meeting up here, something still shimmered between them.