Steamy Southern Nights Read Online Free Page A

mistake.”
    “It was.”
    “But then my father did not know that you would one day enter our lives.”
    “No. I suppose not.” What a strange conversation. And when was he going to get around to answering her question?
    “You know what I’ve been thinking?”
    “What?”
    “How very well that ruby necklace would go with your hair and coloring,” he said, pointing behind her.
    Ruby necklace? She ought to be searching for her ruby slippers so she could click her heels and get the hell out of here.
    In spite of herself, she turned, and looked where Claude pointed. They were standing in front of one of the antique shops that crowded the street. The necklace he indicated was a thin gold filigree chain with a series of small rubies. The setting was clearly antique, but it was delicate and exactly the sort of thing she hung around antique store windows admiring.
    “Yes,” she said shortly. “It’s very nice.” And if he thought he was going to distract her with pretty things he—
    “Would you like to try it on?”
    “What, now?” The shop was closed and the interior dark.
    “Yes. I’ve a desire to see it on you.” Once more that single figure was busy, this time trailing a curve from her left collarbone to her right, leaving a trail of shivery heat in his wake. “It would rest right here, I think.”
    She thought of the gorgeous emerald signet ring and the mental picture she’d had of him with his pirate’s booty. She’d thought it fanciful at the time, now she wondered. “Claude, are you a thief?”
    She was joking, but he seemed to take her words seriously.
    “There are many kinds of thieves, cousine,” he said, his eyes seeming dark and mysterious in the dim light from the street.
    “There is the greedy stock promoter who takes old ladies’ life savings and loses the money, is that not thievery of the most contemptible kind?”
    “Of course.”
    “There is the thieving of certain politicians who sell promises for tax payers’ money and don’t deliver.”
    “Unscrupulous, maybe. But not illegal.”
    He stepped closer and her heart jumped. “Then there is my favorite kind of theft,” he said softly, moving closer still. “The stolen kiss,” he said and covered her mouth with his.
    As his lips touched hers lust slammed into her, flattening her the way Claude’s body flattened hers against the closed door of the antique shop. She clutched at his shoulders, feeling at once overwhelmed and triumphant. He might be trouble, but he was going to be a fantastic lover. There was something about the two of them together that was magic. Her skin tingled as he pressed against her, her mouth opened under his and he thrust inside with greedy haste but with finesse. Giving into the inevitable, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
    This wasn’t an experience she was ever going to forget, she thought dimly as he took her mouth with a kind of fierce focus she imagined he’d bring to his lovemaking.
    He tasted of all the flavors of this city, she thought, of international spices and coffee with the dark rasp of chicory, of hot sauce and the coolness of mint. She was so far off her feet she might never find her balance again when she found herself physically unbalanced and falling backwards.
    With a startled cry, she took a step back and found herself inside the antique store in the darkness, with the musty smell of antiquity overlaid with some kind of sweet fragrance. Potpourri, she thought, dimly.
    “What are you doing?” She whispered. She’d been mostly kidding about him being a thief but now she wasn’t so sure. He chuckled, obviously enjoying her outrage, shutting the door behind him and leaning past her shoulder to punch numbers into an alarm system keypad.
    She shook her head, trying to rattle her brains back into some semblance of order as the obvious answer to her question hit her. “You own this shop.”
    “I do. And two more like it.”
    She heard a deadbolt click into place