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  The first time they were together, passion had erupted between them. A cyclone that’d swept away all reason. She hadn’t had time to think, to breathe. She’d let herself be swept into the chaos, riding the storm of pleasure.

  Now, his soft lips beguiled, coaxed her to sail on the warm wind of desire. Her lashes floated down in willing surrender. Some things hadn’t changed. Liam’s tender touch, his intoxicating taste, his fresh scent, all immersed her in him.

  Only him.

  Everything faded away. Nothing existed but her and Liam ... and his seductive, shimmering allure.

  “Mmm,” she hummed. Oh, she’d dreamed about his kisses. But dreams didn’t even touch reality.

  His big hands slid into her hair, cradled her head and urged her nearer. His warm, silky tongue dipped inside, flirted with hers ... teased, withdrew, then thrust in again. Degree by exquisite degree, he notched up the heat. His fire licked at the wall of ice inside her, thawed her control.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. He was hot and hard, fiercely aroused. And, God, so was she. But this wasn’t merely chemistry. More than wanting. She cared about him in a deep, elemental way she’d never felt before. Didn’t understand. Couldn’t explain.

  She told him the only way she knew how. She kissed him without restraint, releasing her tumultuous emotions.

  His heartbeat kicked against her breasts. He groaned, deepened the kiss. He drank in her essence, made love to her mouth as if he would go on kissing her until the world ended. Fine tremors vibrated in his steely muscles, leashed energy fighting to be freed. Revealing his need was as strong as hers.

  He still wanted her—as she’d never been wanted before.

  Her pulse scrambled and every neuron in her brain fired. She was willing to give him anything.

  Give him everything.

  * * *

  Liam lost himself in Kate as she quivered beneath his touch. She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. Nobody had ever needed him the way she needed him. He’d never needed anyone the way he needed her.

  Thunderstruck, his heart staggered in his chest. Vibrations echoed through him as the universe settled into place. Then a sonic boom exploded inside his skull.

  Here she is.

  Just Kate.

  He reeled, drunk on her flowery fragrance, on the feel of her skin, petal soft beneath his fingertips. On her taste, spun sugar melting on his tongue.

  The door pushed open beside them and someone strode into the room.

  Liam yanked back from the kiss and turned his head to see a motherly-looking black nurse in pink scrubs heading toward Aubrey’s bed. Kate trembled, her expression a tangle of shock and unsatisfied hunger. Her soft cry of protest, her fingers clutching his shoulders, battered his racing heart.

  Panting for air, he gently disengaged her grip. His power of speech was MIA, so he moved aside allowing her to see the nurse.

  “Oh, hell,” she whispered. She straightened, cleared her throat. “Hi, Delilah.” Her voice was shaking as hard as her body. “How’re you doing today?”

  The other woman grinned. “Not as well as you, honey.”

  Kate flushed. “Um ... this is Liam O’Rourke. He brought Aubrey a goldfish.”

  Who knew fish did it for you, babe? “Damn good thing I didn’t bring her an orca,” he blurted.

  Delilah chuckled as she walked over to the sleeping child. “Technically, whales are mammals.”

  “Yeah,” was his witty reply. Adrenaline zinged through his veins. He longed to explore all the new possibilities with Kate. But circumstances, and her safety, demanded he chill the fuck out. He inhaled a fortifying draught of oxygen. “We should go check out the Venetian,” he reminded her. “I need to arrange security for the auction.”

  “Yes, right. Delilah will you call me if Aubrey’s status changes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” Kate tiptoed to the bed and tenderly kissed the sleeping child’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby girl,” she whispered.

  Murphy pushed to all fours when they exited the room. The big canine stretched and yawned, showing a curling pink tongue and sharp white teeth. No bad guys showed up. Let’s eat.

  Kate quickly moved to Liam’s right, away from the dog.

  They ambled down the hall, and Liam rested his palm on Murphy’s soft, warm head. Jesus, what if he was eventually forced to choose between Murph and Kate?

  Don’t think about that. Deal with what’s happening right now.

  His second priority after insuring Kate’s safety: clear her with the FBI. As long as the Feebs suspected her of terrorist activities, neither of them was free.

  He had a shit-load of obstacles to hurdle before he could even begin to explore possibilities.

  They walked down five floors to street level, then out into the blast of sunlight and grinding heat. Liam winced. He wasn’t a fan of desert climates, either. A true Oregonian, he slept best when rainstorms drummed the roof.

  Inside the Mustang he started to play Phil Collins on satellite radio—another modern addition to his classic muscle car. The opening notes of “In the Air Tonight” thrummed. Every muscle tightened. A whole world of nope. He switched to Queen.

  As he drove, he watched his rearview mirrors, but no tail appeared. A grin sneaked out. Maybe biker dude had spread the word.

  He caught Murphy’s bright gaze in the mirror, and the dog grinned in response. Yeah. Don’t screw with Murphy and Liam unless you wanna lose some hide.

  Though regularly checking her side mirror, Kate sat quiet and subdued. No doubt dealing with the fallout from their volcanic kiss.

  “Do you keep a snail mail and email list of gallery visitors and clients?” he asked. At her affirmative nod, he continued. “I’ll need that, along with your doctors’ names, physical therapists, and everyone you regularly do business with.”

  “Okay. Mostly it’s art and photo supplies and ...” She sat bolt upright. “I almost forgot! I was snapping shots out the hospital window and my micro SD slot spring mechanism failed. I need to drop my camera off at Custom Camera Care and have them fix it and extract the card. Maybe I caught some evidence.”

  A cold fist gripped his heart, squeezed with icy fingers. “You stood and took pictures ... with a possible sniper gunning for you?” He stomped the clutch and brake for a red light, jolting them forward. “I told you to keep clear of the window!”

  “I’m not an idiot. I stayed below the sill.”

  His hands clenched on the wheel. If she’d gotten hurt ... or worse— He broke into a cold sweat as horrifying images blistered his brain. Had she experienced this wrenching panic when he was outside and all she could do was wait?

  What did that say about the depth of her feelings?

  The car behind them honked, and he realized the light was green. He ground his teeth. The stalker could have sashayed right up to the car and blown her away while he was gobsmacked. Get your head in the game, O’Rourke. Fuck, he was doing the work of three men here—Larry, Moe, and Curly.

  She directed him to a small building tucked between a dry cleaner and a discount craft store in a nondescript strip mall. “It doesn’t look like much, but they’re the best in town.”

  “Never argue with success.” He made a covert visual sweep of the perimeter as he escorted her into the shop. Murphy trotted at his left, watchful but relaxed.

  A guy with short, curly blond hair challenged Liam the second they cleared the automatic glass doors. “Sorry, sir, you can’t bring that dog inside.” Of average height but stocky, he was wearing tan chinos and a white button-down shirt. His red, yellow and blue striped tie matched the store’s color scheme. Liam pegged his age around thirty.

  The guy did a double take, then paled. “Is that a gun?”

  Liam plucked his badge case from his back pocket and snapped it open. “Police K-9.”

  “Do you have police business here?” he shrilled.

  Kate stepped forward. “He’s with m
e, Brice.”

  “Ms. Chabeau! I hope there’s no trouble.”

  “Officer O’Rourke is in charge of security for the Allete auction. We’re on our way over there right now.”

  “Oh, how wonderful! I’m looking forward to stopping by and choosing an exclusive print for my apartment.” The man slapped the counter, suddenly effusive ... and Liam noticed the knuckles on his right hand were scraped raw. “It’s been a few weeks since you’ve visited us. You look très fabuleux, as always.”

  Liam scowled. Dude was a tad too enthusiastic.

  “Nice to see you again, too.” Kate offered her camera. “Same problem as the past two times. And I need priority status, please.”

  “Right away. Couldn’t give less than my very best to such a lovely fellow Francophile, n'est-ce pas?”

  “Oui.” She smiled. “I appreciate it.”

  “Thanks for trusting me with your treasure.” Brice offered her a toothy grin, and the back of Liam’s neck prickled.

  Too happy to be real. Too interested. Too everything. And scraped up. Liam would have Grady and Zoe check him out.

  Brice wrote a receipt. “I have your number. I’ll phone you when it’s ready.”

  When they were once again in the car and heading for the strip, Liam glanced at Kate. “How long have you known him?”

  “Brice? I’ve used the shop exclusively the past couple years when I’m in town visiting Aubrey, and a lot more often during Aubrey’s hospitalization. His mom was French. She died last year, and he loves my Parisian photos.”

  “Happen to know his last name, or any other particulars?”

  “Why?” She gasped. “You don’t think he ...”

  “He blipped my weirdo radar. Practically kissed your feet. And I saw a sign advertising custom developing for those rare clients who still use film. He’d be proficient with chemicals.”

  “He is a bit odd. But seems very sweet. He’s never given me trouble, or any reason to think badly of him.”

  “Sociopaths are intelligent and ingenious. They hide evil well. The whack job who’s after you could be your best friend, and you wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

  He grabbed his cell and called Grady, then left another message for Zoe with Brice’s info. Afterward, he checked with the local precinct. Frustrated, he disconnected and shared the bad news. “Biker dude rabbited before EMS or the cops arrived.”

  “I feel so ... violated.” Kate shuddered. “Someone I might know wants to kill me, for whatever warped reason.”

  He clasped her hand and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Nobody will hurt you as long as I’m still breathing.”

  Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the Venetian. Liam reluctantly surrendered his beloved Mustang to the mercies of valet parking in order to quickly get Kate into the relative safety of the hotel.

  The sun hadn’t yet set, but the graceful white columned archways were lit, washing the facade in a welcoming glow. He continually monitored their surroundings as they entered.

  Kate preceded him through the lobby and around the ornate gold fountain. The Renaissance art ceilings, imposing columns, and intricate molding never failed to amaze. With Murphy following, they strolled down a side hallway.

  The second they walked into the foyer leading to a private reception room, a young man rushed them. Liam registered black leather pants, billowy red satin shirt, and shoulder-length platinum hair in the same millisecond he whipped out his Glock. “Freeze!” he ordered. “Police.”

  Murphy stiffened and rumbled a menacing growl. The dog’s ears flattened and his tail lowered. Let me at him!

  The would-be attacker skidded to a halt and flung his hands in front of his face as if to ward off bullets. “Mon Dieu!” he screeched. “Katherine!” He pronounced Kate’s name Cat-a-rin. “Aidez moi!”

  “Liam, no!” Kate’s heart jammed in her throat as she threw herself forward. Whirling to face Liam, she spread her arms, becoming a human shield for her friend. Gulping down dismay, she cast an anxious glance at the bristling K-9. The hostile dog scared her way more than the gun. “This is my administrative assistant!”

  “Goddammit.” Liam’s nostrils flared. He crossed the distance in three strides, the pulse in his throat throbbing a rapid tattoo. “Don’t ever get between me and a target again. Do you hear me?”

  His laser glare burned a hole right through her. And it was only a fraction of the intimidation he threw at bad guys. God. It was a wonder they didn’t pee themselves and surrender on sight. “Y-yes.”

  Panting, Etienne peered over her shoulder from behind her. “Tres macho!”

  “Macho to the wazoo.” Kate pressed a hand to her racing heart. “Officer Liam O’Rourke, this is my administrative assistant Etienne Duplais.”

  Metal scraped leather as Liam holstered his weapon. Murphy sat, dark observant eyes trained on Etienne. Freaky how in a blink he could go from attack weapon to vigilant partner. Liam was obviously safer with Murphy on his side. She wasn’t sure about everyone else.

  Liam extended his hand. “Etienne.”

  “Mon plaisir de vous rencontrer!” Etienne sidled out and clasped Liam’s hand. “Le paradis sur terre existe!”

  Kate risked a cautious look at Liam’s bewildered expression. He obviously didn’t speak the lingo.

  Etienne still hadn’t released Liam from his grasp. “It is my excessive pleasure to meet you, Monsieur O’Rourke.”

  Liam finally extracted his hand from Etienne’s fervent grasp. “Thanks, I think.”

  Etienne cast fascinated looks between her and Liam. Her admin was definitely a ladies’ man, but greatly appreciated beauty in all its forms. “Mon coeur, if you do not think this Irishman is tres magnifique, you need to have more than your vision checked.”

  Liam frowned. “How do you know I’m Irish?”

  “Your name, it is not exactly Italian.” Gilded lashes fluttered. “Aside from that, the black Irish patrimoine is obvious, no? Such Celtic bone structure, such distinctive emerald eyes, such wavy midnight hair ...” Etienne’s forehead furrowed. “Are you dating this agent de police, Katherine? If so, we must have a talk, Monsieur O’Rourke, how you say ... man-to-man.”

  She tossed visual daggers at her friend. Could he get any more possessive and protective? “Knock it off, Etienne.”

  Etienne flapped his hands. “Where have you been, Katherine? I left message after message, and have worried myself into a state.”

  If she mentioned the bomb, her young protégé would come unglued. She’d kept the stalker notes a secret from him for the same reason. “I was at the hospital. Aubrey’s taken a turn for the worse, and Janine had a hard time dealing with it.”

  “Tsk, tsk, poor dear bébé. But your photographs will earn a great deal of money and she will be well soon.” Etienne’s lips pursed in a sardonic Gallic moue. “Janine, now there is a woman with simple tastes. Why just look at some of her ex-beaus.”

  Liam choked out a laugh.

  Chuckling, Kate shook her head. There was nothing the outrageous Frenchman wouldn’t say or do. Not long after she’d set up shop in Paris, he’d sauntered into her studio, literally off the street. Despite his lack of experience and references, he’d astonished her with his creative vision. She’d hired him on the spot.

  Liam’s intent stare tracked Etienne’s athletic frame from platinum leonine mane to stylish black pointed-toe boots. “Have an accident, boyo?”

  Startled, she studied her assistant. In the gun-drawing, dog-threatening chaos, she hadn’t noticed the extra-large Band-aid pasted diagonally on the right side of his face from cheek to chin. Dark blood spots showed beneath the padded surface.

  Etienne’s quicksilver eyes narrowed. “Your agent de police, he is inquisitive much.”

  Deceptively casual, Liam rested his palm on his gun. “A fact you’d do well to remember.”

  “Subtle as a chainsaw, Lucky Charmer.” Surely he didn’t believe Etienne was stalking her? Etienne wouldn’t hurt a fly,
and was completely devoted. She sighed. As far as the conscientious cop was concerned, everyone was suspect until proven innocent.

  “Wasn’t aiming for subtle.” Liam hadn’t moved his killer glare off Etienne.

  Etienne shuffled his feet. “I was unpacking the shipment of les photographies, and the wooden crate lid, she attacked. Fell on me.”

  “You own a motorcycle, Duplais?”

  “Oui, pourquoi?”

  “Anything besides your face damaged?”

  “Thank you for caring, Monsieur Lucky-With-His-Charms, mais non.”

  “The biker dude who pursued us crashed. Despite the leathers, he’d likely have some road rash. I’m gonna have to ask you to prove you’re otherwise unharmed.”

  Etienne blinked, clearly disconcerted. “You wish me to strip for you? Here? Now?”

  “In the men’s room. Me, or another officer of your choice. Or an officer can take you into the station.”

  “Liam,” Kate huffed. “Really?”

  Liam’s gaze pinned her. “Doing my job. If he wants a warrant and/or legal representation first, I’ll arrange it.”

  She sighed. “Can we at least get the auction photos loaded-in before conducting a body search? We’re running out of time.” And she needed to stay busy. Or she would dwell on The Kiss. Would speculate on the implications of their powerful connection. Yearn for the undeniable sense of rightness, the warm welcome of belonging in Liam’s embrace.

  Sublimating her feelings was becoming nearly unbearable. She’d spent the entire ride here convincing herself the I want you right here, right now kiss she’d given him—in Aubrey’s hospital room of all places—was temporary hormonal brain impairment jacked up by extreme stress.

  Uncharacteristically subdued, Etienne turned to her. “You will be happy to know that when you did not appear, I, myself hanged most of the photographs.” He extracted a key card from the pocket of his leather pants. “My Katherine possesses remarkable talent, monsieur. The instant I saw her brilliance, I could not resist her.”

  Watching Etienne closely, Liam crossed his arms over his chest, bunching tanned biceps. “We agree there.”

  “Katharine, mon coeur...” Etienne flung apart the doors. “I think you will be très pleased with—” Her admin’s mouth dropped open. He blanched.