Heated (Most Wanted 2)

"That click," he said. "That connection. It's passion, Sloane. And it's promise."

My back was spooned against his chest, and I closed my eyes, then told myself to remember to breathe as he gently stroked my hair. I couldn't deny how good it felt to be in his arms, but I also couldn't forget that he'd spoken of trust.

And I didn't trust him. Hell, I didn't trust anyone. "Don't make this more than it is," I said.

"It already is more."

I rolled over, then opened my mouth to protest.

"Shut up, Sloane. We're not going to come to any sort of agreement with words. But in the silence, in the dark, I think we'll come together just fine."

He kissed me then, and as his warm hands slid over my naked skin, I had to admit he was right--we came together just fine.

Chapter Thirteen

I woke to the gentle caress of the sun streaming through a small gap in the black-out curtains. I blinked, trying to focus as the events of the night came back to me. And not just any night, but one of the most decadent, erotic, amazing nights of my life.

I pushed myself up and propped my back against a wall of pillows. The space beside me was empty, but there was a small envelope perched on the pillow.

At the gym.

Didn't have the heart to wake you.

Coffee and croissants in kitchen.

I want you again. Hard and wild.

Soon.

T

I read the note twice, feeling like a teenager who'd just found a mash letter in her locker. All giddy and sweet and a little unsure of what to do next.

As I'd been swimming up from the depths of sleep, my mind had been filled with images of me spooning against Tyler. Of him waking me with kisses, with his hand stroking down my belly to ease the ache between my thighs.

I was wet from the night and from the erotic dreams that had followed, and I couldn't help but be a little disappointed that Tyler hadn't been in bed to make my fantasies a reality.

He'd done a number on me all right--or maybe I'd done the number on myself.

With a sigh, I sat up, the sheet wrapped tight around me. I leaned over and thrust my fingers into my tangled hair and tried to figure out what the hell I was doing. Because I damn sure wasn't being a cop. Yes, it's true that I'd gotten close to Tyler--mission accomplished there--but if I was in cop mode, shouldn't I have awakened with an agenda, all ready to jump in and move on to phase two?

Instead, I was hot and horny and frustrated the man wasn't around to cuddle. I wasn't entirely sure when I'd let go of the last strands of sanity and reason, but I knew damn well that somewhere along the way I had. Because right now, I wasn't thinking about Amy or the knights' laundry list of sins. I was thinking about last night, and about the man in whose arms I'd spent it.

Tyler Sharp had sparked something deep inside me. Something wonderful, but a little bit scary. Something that made me feel tingly and girly. That made me want to have a pedicure and pay attention to my makeup.

Something I damn well needed to guard against. Nobody is what they seem. Not me. Not Tyler.

I'd do well to remember that.

"Well, fuck."

My words clanged against the silence of the room, their impact like a slap. Time to wrap my fist around those threads and yank my sanity back. I needed to find out if he had any information on Amy. And I needed to watch my step.

I could fuck him, but I couldn't trust him.

With that invigorating but rather depressing pep talk, I slid out of bed and gathered up the clothes that were still lying in a heap near the door. I didn't bother with the shoes, and after a moment's debate I didn't bother with the underwear, either. I might be wary, but I wasn't stupid, and if Tyler wanted a repeat of last night's extracurricular activities, I was more than happy to oblige.

Barefoot, I padded out of the master suite and headed toward the kitchen. Tyler was as good as his word, and I poured myself a gallon-sized cup of coffee and drank it while I leaned against the counter and scoped out the kitchen. Not typical of hotels, not by a long shot. It was huge, fully stocked, and had both an island and a small workstation with a laptop and a careless wash of papers.

That was, I thought, a good place to start.

Since I didn't know how long Tyler would be gone, I moved quickly to the workstation and pulled open the drawer. Pens, pencils, sticky notes, and at least a dozen take-out menus. All of which was entirely unhelpful.

I eyed the laptop, which was open, its screen nothing but black. If there was something relevant in this suite, there was a good chance it was on that laptop. And it would be so easy to just take a peek ...

I hesitated only a moment, then tapped the space bar. The screen blinked, then came to life, revealing an image of Lake Michigan over which an electronic notepad appeared, with six things itemized on a list:

Evan party

Jahn Foundation--board meeting, when?

Postpone Nevada, 2 weeks

Michelle--soon

Re: A--discuss options w/ C & E

Call Q re SW

The notes were primarily nonsensical, but in light of the reference to the party, I assumed it was some sort of to-do list. The kind of random list that people keep before transferring notes to a calendar or project list.

Nothing nefarious caught my eye, but I'd be lying if I didn't feel a little ping in my gut upon seeing the woman's name. Especially in such close proximity to the word "soon." I frowned. I'm not the jealous type, especially not with regard to a man I barely knew and shouldn't want. But there was no denying the evidence of my own reaction.

Apparently the man had bewitched me, because right at the moment, I was desperately hoping that Michelle was his dog.

I cocked my head, uncertain if I'd heard the front door open. My finger hesitated over the trackpad. I wanted to click on the list and see if it linked to more detailed information. If Kevin was right, who knew what kind of racketeering related details I might find on Tyler's laptop. I might not be interested in being Kevin's personal research bitch, but I did want to satisfy my own curiosity.

But if Tyler had returned ...

I waited, heard nothing else, and navigated the cursor to the list. After all, I might not get this opportunity again.

I clicked.

Nothing.

Nothing that is except the password box. I exhaled, mildly irritated but not terribly surprised. I considered trying knights--or even Michelle because I was still feeling jealous and petty. But I was confident that Tyler wouldn't be that obvious. For that matter, it was possible he had some sort of keystroke monitor and would know I'd been snooping.

I considered the computer a bit longer. The notes might mean nothing now, but maybe they would make sense later. I weighed my options, hurried into the living room to find my purse, then returned with my smart phone and snapped a picture of the screen.

It wasn't much, but at least I'd done something.

With no other plan of attack for the kitchen, I decided to see what else might be in the penthouse. I already knew there was no workstation in the b

edroom, but I sincerely doubted that a man like Tyler would be willing to live without a desk, even for only a few months.

With luck, I'd find either a dedicated office or a bedroom that Tyler had set up as one. With even more luck, I'd find something interesting.

I poured a second cup of coffee and took it with me as I set out to find and search his office. I had personal knowledge that Tyler was not only well-muscled, but had serious endurance. So I assumed he spent a significant amount of time at the gym. What I didn't know was where the gym was located or how long he'd been gone. If he used the fitness center at The Drake, his travel time would be minimal.

No matter what, time was of the essence, and me and my coffee hurried down the corridor that lead off the south side of the living area.

The hallway angled sharply, and I'd just made the turn when I stopped dead. Tyler. His voice. I couldn't make out the words, but I was damn sure that was his voice.

Shit. Holy fucking shit.

He was here. In the penthouse. And he must have been here the whole damn time.

I said a silent thank-you to St. Christopher--the patron saint of cops--who'd apparently been watching out for me, preventing Tyler from popping into the kitchen to freshen his coffee while I poked around on his laptop. With any luck, good old Christopher would stay on the job.

The voice was coming from behind the first door on the left. Probably a gym--it occurred to me belatedly that a penthouse this large would have a private gym--and I eased that way. I couldn't snoop while he was on the premises, so I might as well tell him I was awake.

But as I lifted my hand to knock on the door, I realized two things. First, the door was cracked just slightly. Second, Tyler wasn't alone.

The woman in me felt a twinge of guilt, but the cop didn't even hesitate. I edged quietly up against the door, tilted my head, and listened.

"Franklin showed up late for the party," said a deep voice that I recognized as belonging to Cole August. "Said to tell you that Lizzy's a gem. Guess her first couple of days went well."

"Glad to hear it," Tyler said "She works hard, and she's sharp. I figure he's lucky to have her. At least that's good news. Bentley's turning out to be a liability."

"My neck's clear on this one," a third man said, and I assumed it was Evan Black. "But if you want my advice, you don't want to waste any time getting a protection plan in place."