"Hmm…perfect. Lovely." His voice vibrated against her chest. "Now, then…are the bells ringing?"
Rhia uncrossed her eyes and shook her head. "No…"
His sigh lifted her gently, and she felt an urge to grab hold of something and hold on. Something…like him.
"Then I'm afraid you're going to have to kiss me."
Her head rocked back, clearing instantly. She let go a gust of breath. "Kiss you! What are you trying-"
Nikolas lifted his head from the pillows and held his arms out wide. "Look-I promised, crossed my heart. No ravishing, see? Arms way out here. I won't even-"
"Oh, just shut up." Rhia said recklessly. She ducked her head and kissed him hard on the mouth. After a moment-a very brief moment-she raised her head and glared at him. "Well? I still don't hear any bells."
He gave a soft, dry snort. "Yes, well, small wonder, with a peck like that. Try it again, luv, and this time put some… hmm, how shall I put it?…some sex into it."
She closed her eyes; her heart thumped heavily against the place where her chest met his. "Oh, God-please don't tell me we had a one-night stand. That's impossible. I know I'd have remembered-"
"As someone recently said, do shut up." He lifted his head and his mouth found hers even before she knew she was bringing it down to his once more.
She had no idea how long it was before she raised her head again; she lost all sense of time. She lost all sense of space, too. She felt the world whirl around her; she was floating, weightless. She needed desperately to hold onto something, or better yet, to have something-strong, masculine arms- holding her. Electricity skated along her nerves; her hands clenched, fisted in the blanket, gathering it in greedy handfuls. Her heart rocked her body with each beat, like hammer blows.
Desperate for breath, she pulled away, finally, and found that her eyes now refused to focus. In a drunken voice she managed to mutter, "What the hell was that?"
Nikolas's smile swam into her blurred line of vision, and his breath was soft on her lips as he whispered. "Serendipity."
She opened her mouth and a gasp burst from her throat, but that was all she had time for as his arms came around her and, with one deft and powerful twist of his body, he rolled her under him. Stunned, she looked up at the face suspended above her, the face filling up all her world with its chiseled jaw and patrician nose, its dark brow and brooding eyes, its beautifully sculpted mouth. That face. That mouth…
Memories flickered like lightning flashes; a clap of thunder shuddered through her. She whispered. "Oh, my God, was that you?"
She'd never forgotten him, the man who'd saved her career that night. Possibly her life. She remembered every detail of the encounter, from the moment she'd vaulted over that balcony wall, not knowing what she'd find on the other side, knowing only it was bound to be better than staying where she was. The legitimate occupant of the room she'd been searching was known to be a dangerous man-and was evidently unpredictable, too. She hadn't expected him back for another fifteen minutes, at least.
When she heard the key card slick in and out of its slot, she hurled herself through the sliding door and onto the balcony, knowing it was only a temporary refuge. Even a blind man or a complete idiot would be able to tell in seconds the room had been searched-and Clive Harrington was no fool. A wife-beater, a child-stealer, a cheat, a liar and a mean-as-a-snake SOB, for sure, but not stupid. The balcony was the first place he'd look.
Rhia figured she had three choices: She could go up, down, or sideways. Since the balcony was fifteen floors up and she lacked both wings and climbing gear, that left only one choice, and she took it without hesitation. In roughly two seconds time she was pulling herself over the six-foot wall between her assignment 's balcony and the one next door and dropping down on the other side…
… Right on top of the unfortunate and unsuspecting person enjoying the view of the lights of Paris and the cool night air.
She didn't know what made her do it. She remembered looking down into his face-the face of a man, a young man…and handsome. More than handsome, if she'd had time to think about it. But…she remembered hearing the muffled cry of fury from the room next door, and realizing she had only seconds in which to save herself. And then she was kissing the strange man lying half-stunned beneath her, kissing him as if she'd done it…oh, many times before.
She remembered hearing Harrington's voice asking about her, then apologizing for the interruption, and feeling exhilarated…smug…clever. Somehow she'd done it-pulled it off. She was free and clear!
But…there was this…roan she was lying on…kissing. And his mouth tasted good, tasted faintly of wine…and felt warm and firm and enthusiastic, and-after the first shocked seconds- oh, so skillful. Still tangled with his, her lips formed a smile.
Then, slowly, even a bit reluctantly, she separated her mouth from his and gazed down at him, searching for the words to tell him how grateful she was. Searching for a way to say thank you. And good-bye.
But… when she lowered her head to touch his lips again in sweet farewell, she felt his body grow hard and quiver with wiry strength…and his arms were around her now, and she felt his head lift and his muscles surge and a moment later she was lying on her back and his weight was pressing down on her and his face was filling the sky above her, blotting out the pale Paris night. She felt his arms tight around her and his heartbeat thumping off-beat against hers. And she thought…
Foolish Rhia! Stupid-stupid to play with fire this way!
Her panic lasted only a moment. She was still in control- of course she was. She could stop this any time she chose. The arms holding her prisoner were masterful but not brutal; the eyes burning down into hers were angry, yes, but bright with questions rather than lust.
What was that? What the hell do you call that? she heard him demand in a croaking, unexpectedly young voice.
And somewhere deep inside her she felt a smile shiver free and bubble up through her chest and emerge with a whispered sigh: Serendipity
He gave a brief huff that might have been wonder or merely acknowledgment, then lowered his mouth to hers for one quick, hard kiss, a kiss that left her with throbbing lips and racing heart and a strange humming in her chest. Then he rolled his weight off of her to lie on his back with one arm across his eyes. She felt his body shake with silent laughter.
For one insane moment she thought of staying right there. Wondered what a kiss like that might possibly lead to, and who this young man was who could have a strange woman drop on him from out of the sky and not only keep his cool and play along in her game with life-and-death stakes, but laugh about it afterward. But Harrington was a few yards away in the next room, undoubtedly on the phone to the French police and the British embassy at that very moment. She couldn'tcount on her good luck holding forever. She didn't know how Corbett Lazlo felt about bailing his agents out of jail-in her case, a second time-but she didn't care to find out, not on her first solo assignment.
She sat up, patted her savior's shoulder and breathlessly muttered. Thanks-I don't know who you are, but I definitely owe you one. Then she rose, stepped over his body and slipped through the balcony door, moving quickly and nimbly as she always did…moving as if her legs weren't shaky and her stomach jittering with the aftereffects of a kiss she knew even then she was never going to forget…