Angel Nicholas - Sweet Deception - HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense

Whoa. She smacked his hand away. No way was he hitting second base when she didn’t even know his name. Oh, for crying out…No way was he hitting second base period.

He chuckled again. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

She rolled her eyes. As if. A scuff of sound in the distance grounded her. Was Surfer Dude intentionally trying to distract her from the danger of their situation? Where was his girlfriend?

“I think it’s safe now.” His whisper reminded her they stood cuddled together like lovers.

She pulled free, her face burning. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Who?”

“The gorgeous blonde on the ride. You remember her, right?” Okay, that might have sounded more snotty than she intended.

She leaned forward to peer around the wall, but his hand on her abdomen stopped her. All her nerve endings fired in response.

“That was my sister, Celia,” he whispered low in her ear. “After I got her out of the building, I came back for you. You went the wrong way.” She started to respond, but he cut her off. “Now step back while I see if the coast is clear.”

Setting aside the whole girlfriend issue for the moment, she straightened her spine and stood there like a delicate flower of womanhood while the big manly man peered around the wall. Hey, if he wanted to play hero, far be it for her to stand in his way.

He snagged her hand, dragging her along behind him as he stepped out of their hiding spot and down the tunnel. Did the guy have spidey-sense? How had he unerringly found her hand in the dark?

Returning to the main part of the building brought relief mixed liberally with trepidation. After hanging out in the pitch black, dim light was a drastic improvement. Even so, a deranged psychopath was running around inside with them.

She added a little more enthusiasm to her step. Walking behind Surfer Dude and admiring the broad expanse of his back distracted her from imminent danger. Okay, so the muscle she was admiring was a little farther south.

He stopped and she smacked face-first into his shirt. And lingered. Good Lord, he smells good . Voices drifted down the building, rudely distracting her from olfactory bliss.

“You sure you haven’t seen anything, MacAfee?”

“Nah, he didn’t come my way, Sarge.”

Her hormone-induced bubble burst. She peeked around Surfer Dude. Two uniformed police officers stood in a doorway with a man in street clothes. Probably a detective or something. Luxurious, beautiful sunlight shone beyond the door.

Intent on the freedom the swatch of sunshine represented, Ally sidled around Surfer Dude. He pulled her back into his chest and covered her mouth. She sighed into his hand and crossed her arms. This was getting old. Maybe she should stomp on his foot. Kick him in the shin. Elbow him in the ribs. Or just bite him.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, his low voice barely reaching her ears.

Annoying man. He could read minds too?

“See the dark shadow against the wall there? Between us and the door?”

Squinting, she strained to separate the subtle differences in the shadows. A soft sound reached her, like the shift of a foot in dirt. Her eyes widened as the silhouette of a man pressed into the corner became clear.

A reflection glinted, like a deer’s eyes in the middle of the night as you flashed by in your car. He was looking their way. She pressed back into her human wall, shaking. She belatedly sensed the alert edge in Surfer Dude’s stiffened muscles.

Slow and easy, hugging the wall beside them, he moved backward. The rough block wall scraped her bare arm. She didn’t care. The closer they were to something solid, the safer she felt. A sense of impending disaster filled her.

A muffled thump and whoosh of furnace-hot air creased the air beside her face. Surfer Dude jerked her into another dark hole in the wall. Burning pain lit her cheek as a dull thud smacked into the wall, raining chunks of debris on them.

His whisper-soft expletive blistered her ears. He unerringly found her hand again, tugged her out of the hole and jogged into the darkness—away from the door. Left with no choice, she followed. Her other hand crept up to touch a fiery spot on her cheek and her fingers came away damp and sticky. She wiped the thick substance on her khaki shorts.

Could this day get any worse? She should have stayed in bed.

Running up the metal steps, she did her best to keep quiet. The light improved as they climbed. His well-muscled butt distracted her from the burn of her thigh muscles and what felt like a gigantic bull’s eye on her backside.

Finally— thank you, God —they arrived at the top of the unending staircase. Sucking air, legs shaking like wet noodles, she gratefully sagged against the nearest wall. Oblivious to her state of near-collapse, Surfer Dude leaned over the stairwell, staring down into the inky black below. How he could see anything, she didn’t know. Neither did she particularly care.

Eyeing his hunky rear end, she touched her cheek. Wincing, she traced the throbbing, damp line of skin. Surfer Dude straightened and turned. His eyes narrowed on her. Two big steps brought him toe to toe. Sucking in a breath at his nearness, she tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go.

“Damn.” His sigh feathered across her skin. With gentle fingers, he pulled her hand away and tilted her face toward the light. “I didn’t realize.”

His face came closer. Close enough to count eyelashes. Totally unfair; they were longer than hers.

“It’s not bad,” he murmured. “Just a graze. If I’d realized sooner he had a gun…I’m sorry, Sugar Lips.”

She lifted her fingers in a shaft of brilliant sunlight and stared at the glistening blood on the tips. Her vision dimmed.

“Oh no you don’t.”

His voice came through a tunnel. Everything went dark.

Bright sunshine penetrated her closed lids. Ally rolled her head away before forcing them open. Squinting, she contemplated the bare leg an inch from her face. Tan and muscled, with a sprinkling of blonde hair. Nice.

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

The smooth velvet baritone washed over her, the slight roughness making her hormones sit up and pant. His voice made her think of naughty whispers in the dark, soft sighs when he kissed a special spot and the husky moans of unhurried lovemaking on satin sheets. She yearned toward it and had to fist her hands to resist temptation. No doubt he made the same unspoken offer to every female who crossed his path.

His words registered.

A snort escaped her lips before she could think better of it. His low chuckle heated her cheeks. Braving the sunlight, she turned to look at him. Up a brilliant white T-shirt, over a well-defined jawline, smiling lips and a straight nose, to focus on amused aqua eyes.

Surfer Dude. And apparently her head currently resided in his lap. The heat in her cheeks ratcheted up to a near-burn.

She sat up. They were on a roof, in a narrow spot of shade provided by the rooftop stairway access. Against her will, her gaze flitted back to where Surfer Dude lounged with impressive nonchalance.

“Feeling better?”

Prim dignity came to the rescue as she smoothed her mousy-brown hair, self-consciousness hidden behind a façade of calm reserve. “Yes, thank you.”

She ached to tug down her too-short shorts and make sure her lacy tank top still kept everything adequately covered. Pride brought her hand back to her lap and she clasped her fingers tight to prevent unlicensed wandering.

“I take it you don’t deal well with blood?”

Tensing, Ally searched his expression for any sign of condescension. Seeing none, she relaxed a little. “Not my own.”