Take My Breath Away…

“It’s going to be all right,” she said.

His lashes fluttered. “C…c…old.”

“I know. You’ll be warm soon. I promise.”

How soon? That was the crucial question. There were only two robes left. She’d had some idea of using them for herself.

She glanced at her coat. It was damp on the outside. And she was going to have to get out of her wet slacks and boots.

And then what?

Nicola very carefully avoided looking at the man. Be cause the answer was obvious. And it had been there lurking in the back of her mind ever since she’d started undressing him.

She was an FBI agent. She’d been trained in survival tactics, and the quickest, most efficient way to keep both of them warm—for the time being—was to share everything. Including body heat.

And the only reason she was stalling was because of the effect this man—this complete stranger—had on her senses. Annoyed—no, angry at herself, Nicola arranged the last two robes. They were both adults. And she was the only fully conscious one. What was her problem?

She tugged off her boots. If he tried anything, she could handle herself. Shrugging out of her holster, she placed it next to her gun and the flashlight.

But what if you try something?

“Not happening,” Nicola muttered as she wiggled out of her wet trousers. A little fantasizing, a little lust. She could handle it.

But she didn’t look at him as she joined him beneath the pile of robes.

Every muscle in her body tensed when his arm snaked around her and pulled her close. Suddenly she was wrapped around him as intimately as a lover—her thigh across his, her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. She might have objected if she hadn’t felt a blast of warmth at each and every contact point.

Or if he’d moved another muscle.

But he didn’t.

She waited, counting the seconds…five…ten…fifteen…twenty.

But the only thing that moved was the rise and fall of his chest beneath her palm. Still, she kept her eyes open, her mind alert as the seconds stretched into minutes.

But he lay there, still as a stone. And all the while the warmth spread, slowly, deliciously until she was certain she could feel it penetrate her muscles and even her bones. The instant she could feel her toes again and wiggle them, she considered moving. It would be the prudent thing to do.

And she’d always figured herself for a practical kind of woman.

He was warm now. She could feel the heat of his skin beneath her palm and along her stomach where her jacket had pulled open. It was probably safe to move away. It was probably safer to move away.

The yawn took her by surprise. Even more surprising was the realization that at some point she’d relaxed fully against him. And she didn’t want to move.

Not the most practical decision. She’d reconsider it in a minute. Just one more minute…

4

GABE SURFACED QUICKLY this time and began to orient himself. There was still pain thrumming at the back of his head and near his temple.

The fight.The details were there, but he pushed them away for now, along with the pain. Both were secondary.

Primary was the flood of sensations storming through his system because of the woman. He was surrounded by them, trapped by them. The pressure of each one of the fingers splayed across his chest might have been a brand. The leg she’d thrown across him imprisoned his thighs and ignited an almost uncontrollable fire in his loins. His whole body was aroused, throbbing.

Who?

Opening his eyes, he shifted slowly until their positions were reversed. Her head lay in the crook of his arm, and it was his leg that held her prisoner now. Even as her eyelashes fluttered and then stilled, recognition streamed through him.

Nicola Guthrie.

What the hell was she doing here? He gave his head a shake, hoping to clear the fog. Pain stabbed. He shut his eyes against it and gritted his teeth as he willed details into place.

He remembered Father Mike’s phone call about the note, the long drive through the storm. He’d arrived at the church, hoping to surprise the thief. Instead, he’d been the one surprised. He recalled the open window that had lured him into the choir room and the blow to his head. But it hadn’t taken him out. He’d managed that on his own. The last thing he could dredge up was his feet flying out from beneath him. That’s when the fireworks had exploded in his brain.

Moving more carefully this time, he glanced around the room. A flashlight and candles provided the only illumination. That and the howling of the wind outside told him that the storm hadn’t let up. He should get up and check on the statue. But he was confident that his new alarm system had held, and his prayers to St. Francis had worked.

This time.

He glanced back down at Nicola. None of what he remembered explained why FBI special agent Nicola Guthrie was here, lying beneath him on the floor of the choir room.

Except…

He frowned as the image slipped into focus—her face filling his vision, her voice telling him everything would be all right. Assuring him that both statues were still here. He thought he’d been dreaming. Just as he’d dreamed of her too often in the past three months.

Because he’d known from the first instant he’d seen her in the FBI office that Nicola Guthrie spelled trouble for him with capital letters. When she’d met his eyes in that brief instant of contact, he’d felt everything else slip away until there’d only been her. The wanting had started that instant, and he hadn’t been able to shake free of it.

So he’d avoided her like the plague for nearly three months. Although he’d consulted on the case, he’d never once set foot in the FBI office. Nick Guthrie was a good friend, one he owed. One he intended to keep. And the flare of hot, primitive desire he’d felt in that one meeting of glances with Nicola was the last thing he wanted to feel for a friend’s daughter. Getting involved with her meant complications, and where women were concerned, he liked to keep his relationships simple. He’d even managed to avoid her during the past few weeks when she’d started tailing him during the evening hours. He had a pretty good idea why. Nick Guthrie might be convinced that he’d had nothing to do with the robberies. But it was a more than good bet that someone at G. W. Securities was up to his or her neck in them. So Guthrie had assigned Nicola to follow him—just to cover all his bases.

Gabe was fine with that. What he wasn’t fine with was that having her on his tail had only increased the number of times she’d slipped into his thoughts each day—especially when he’d been working here at the church on the security for the statue.

He couldn’t keep her out of his mind. That scared him. It ticked him off. It also fascinated him. No one, nothing had ever pulled at him the way she did.

And she was doing it again now. Without even trying. She was asleep, totally unaware of him. Like Sleeping Beauty, blissfully ignorant of the effect she was having on him. He should get up, move. But he couldn’t seem to make his body obey.

Baffled, he studied her in the dim light, taking in the creamy porcelain skin, the sprinkling of freckles. Before he could prevent himself he brushed a strand of hair off of her cheek and behind her ear. At that simple contact of skin against skin, desire shot through him, a rusty claw in his gut.

He’d spent nearly three months being prudent and safe. Perhaps it was time to try a different tack.

One taste. That’s what he told himself as he leaned closer and began to tease her lips apart with his. One taste. He rubbed his mouth softly over hers, then unable to stop himself, he sank in.

Her lips were soft. He’d imagined they would be. And warm. He’d expected that also. But when he finally slipped his tongue between them, he found a surprising mix of flavors. Cool and hot, sweet and pungent. Each flavor drew him, tempted him to taste and taste again.

She began to tremble. That, more than her flavors, undermined his resolve and he plunged in to take the kiss deeper.

IT WAS LIKE WAKING UP in the heart of a firestorm. One minute she’d been fast asleep, and the next, every nerve in her body was alive, burning, yearning. Before she could think, she wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on.

His mouth was so hot and nearly savage. The press of his body against hers vibrated through her right down to her bones. And the feelings he aroused in her were so vivid. So new. Desire had never been this sharp. Hunger had never gone this deep. Need had never been this demanding.In some far corner of her brain where rationality hadn’t been burned to cinders, she heard a voice telling her she had to think. The practical Nicola. But how could she pay any heed when her pulse was pounding in her head and his taste, ripe and rich, was pouring through her like a drug?

She wanted more. She had to have more. When he slipped a hand beneath her jacket and slid it up her bare skin to cover her breast, she arched, determined to get even closer to that hard, rangy body. Oh, yes, she had to have more. A sound, something primitive, clawed its way out of her throat.

As if in answer, he used his teeth, scraping them along her bottom lip before he moved his mouth to her neck. With sensations hammering through her system, she heard the practical voice again. This couldn’t be right, shouldn’t be right. But every nerve in her body tingled with the conviction blossoming inside of her that it was. Exactly right.