Cast the First Stone (The True Lies of Rembrandt Stone 1)

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. And for a split second, a fear sliced through her that—

Um no. Because just like that, he came alive. He pulled her into himself, kissing her like he’d been holding his breath, waiting. As if, like her, the urge had lingered in the back of his mind for two days.

He tasted of the beer he’d been drinking, and her body responded, leaning into his exploration.

She hadn’t kissed many guys in her life—few, actually—but she knew the difference between a fumbling boy and a man who knew what he was doing.

It sent a dangerous, delicious spark through her. Troublemakers, indeed.

Rembrandt Stone. She wrapped her arms up, around his shoulders, closed her eyes, and a small, intimate humming sound emerged.

It only ignited a tiny growl from the back of his throat.

Apparently Inspector Rembrandt Stone was all business, whether he was solving crimes or making a move. Strangely, deliciously, he kissed her almost like he knew her, maybe better than she knew herself, his kiss soft, then deepening, then again lingering, making her ache for more.

This man. Her fingers played with the button of his dress shirt, then found his hot skin and the fine hairs of his chest. Yes, she heard the sirens, sensed the dangerous pull of him, but now ignited, she hadn’t the power to stop.

Didn’t want to. Because something about his intoxicating presence made her feel alive, brave and yes, even brilliant. Every part of the person she longed to be.

“Okay, I think I figured it out—Whoa!”

Her brother came skidding into the room and Rembrandt jerked away from her, his hands on her arms to steady her.

“Sorry!” Asher turned, about to exit—

“No, it’s okay, Ash—” she started, but Asher had already fled.

She laughed.

Not Rembrandt. His eyes widened and something that looked horribly like guilt flashed across his face. “Um…I…”

Oh, for Pete’s sake, they weren’t teenagers. “Take a breath, Rem.” She patted his chest, then pushed him away, completely aware that her wet hair lay in tangles, her skin probably flushed red, and surely anyone could see her pounding heartbeat.

Still, no regrets here.

“What did you find, Ash?” She followed him into the den, keenly aware of Rembrandt behind her, and when Ash sat down at the computer, she noticed Rem run a hand behind his neck, glance over at her, then away.

Rembrandt Stone looked suspiciously like he might be freaking out.

Huh.

So maybe the guy didn’t break the rules often either. So much to learn about him.

Rem crossed his arms over his chest, planted his feet and stared at the screen, at the listing of stores, with addresses.

“There are five stores that carry this coffee in the Metro area,” Asher was saying. “Two, of course, are the locations of the previous bombs, but there are three more, two in Minneapolis, one in St. Paul.”

“Can you print out the addresses?” Rembrandt said, his tone now all business.

“Sure.” Asher hit the print button and Rembrandt walked over and stood over the printer, as if he could magically make it print by glaring at it.

Asher glanced at her, grinned. Eve hit him on the back of the head.

The printer spit out the list and Rembrandt took it. Returned to Asher.

“Okay, now I need you to hack into the International Children’s Defense League and see if you can get me a list of names.”

Asher lifted an eyebrow. “Um, if it has private donors, it’ll be an encrypted site. It’ll take time.”