When he returned, he helped her on with her black raincoat. His fingers brushed the back of her neck as he fixed the collar for her, and she wondered what it would be like to feel his arms slide around her as she leaned back into him. But even if she’d had the nerve to act on her impulse, she was too late; he stepped away and held his sister’s coat open for her.

While they waited at the bottom of the Space Needle for the valet to bring around Luc’s white Land Cruiser, he fastened the four buttons on his jacket and stuck his hands in the pockets, his broad shoulders hunched against the cold. They talked about the weather and about the early flight in the morning. Nothing important. Marie told them about the view from the observation deck, and Jane cast glances at Luc’s dark profile. Light from the Needle lit up one side of his face and wide shoulders and cast a long shadow across the concrete.

When the valet returned, Luc opened the front passenger door for Jane and the back for his sister. He climbed into the driver’s side and they headed for Bellevue. Within a few blocks, Luc broke the silence.

“Mrs. Jackson knows she’s to come over tomorrow before you get home from school,” he told his sister. “Do you need money for anything?”

Jane looked over at him through the corner of her eye. His profile was just a black outline within the dark interior. Golden light from the dash shone on his wristwatch and sent slivers of gold on to the front of his jacket. Jane turned and gazed out her window.

“I need lunch money and I haven’t paid for ceramics class.”

“How much do you need?”

Jane listened to their conversation, feeling like an intruder, sitting within the rich leather interior of Luc’s SUV while he talked to his sister about their everyday life. A life that did not include her. This was his life. Not hers. She had her own life. One she’d made for herself, and she did not belong in his.

When the vehicle pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment, Jane reached for the door. “Thanks so much for bringing me home,” she said.

Luc reached across the distance and grabbed her arm through her thin coat. “Don’t move.” He glanced in the backseat. “I’ll be right back, Marie,” he said as he got out of the vehicle.

The headlamps briefly spotlighted him as he walked in front of the Land Cruiser, then he opened her door. He helped her out and moved beside her up the short walkway. Beneath her illuminated porch, she opened her little bag and pulled out her keys, but just as he had the night he’d walked her to her hotel room in San Jose, he took the key from her and shoved it in the lock.

Inside, she’d left on a floor lamp, and the light spilled across the carpet and lit up the front door. “Thanks again,” she said as she stepped into the apartment. She held her hand out for her keys and he grasped her wrist and placed the keys in her palm. Instead of letting go, he followed her inside.

“This is not a good idea,” he said and brushed his thumb across her pulse.

“What? Bringing me home?”

“No.” He pulled her against him and lowered his face to hers. “You’ve been driving me crazy. With your hair that makes me wonder what it’d feel like tangled around my fingers.” His hand grasped the back of her raincoat, twisting the material in his fist and pulling it tight. “Your red lips and your little red dress give me all kinds of crazy ideas. Stuff I shouldn’t think about you, but I am. Questions that are better left alone.” His blue eyes stared into hers, hot and intense. “But I can’t leave them alone,” he whispered against her mouth. “So tell me, Jane, are you cold?” His lips brushed hers and he said through a hot breath, “Or turned on?” Then he kissed her, and the shock stunned her for several seconds. She could do nothing more that just stand there as he placed tender kisses on her lips.

What did he mean, was she cold or turned on? She definitely was not cold.

He pressed his warm mouth to hers and brought his free hand to the side of her face, cupping her cheek and running his fingers through the hair at her temples. A little moan stuck in her throat, the keys dropped from her hand, and she no longer cared what he meant about her being cold. She ran her palm up the front of his jacket to the side of his neck. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Not with him.

His lips teased and pressed harder until she opened her mouth. His tongue slipped inside and touched her, wet and oh so welcome.

For a man who spent his time hitting people and pucks with a hockey stick, his touch was surprisingly gentle. The little moan worked free, escaped into his mouth, and she let herself go. She let herself slide into the hot passion spreading across her skin, pounding in her chest, and aching between her thighs. She let herself fall face first into the lust she’d been trying to hold at bay. His big hand cupped her breast through the layers of her dress and coat, and she leaned into him. His thumb brushed her nipple and she raised onto her toes. There was no more thought of letting, just doing. Just kissing him as if she wanted to eat him up in one sitting. Her tongue sliding across his as if she wanted to binge on Luc Martineau.

He pulled back and looked into her face, his eyes dazed, his voice a bemused rasp. “You make me want to suck a bruise on you just to kiss it better.”

Jane licked her moist lips and nodded. She wanted that too.

“Damn,” he said through a harsh breath. Then he turned on his heels and was gone. Leaving Jane stunned and bewildered. Shocked for the fourth time that night.

Chapter 10

Blindsided: Hit from Behind


Jane closed her laptop on Honey Pie and her latest victim, a hockey player Honey had met on the observation deck of the Space Needle. A hockey player who looked a lot like Luc Martineau.

She rose from the chair, pushed aside the heavy drapes, and looked out the hotel window at downtown Denver, Colorado. She’d definitely developed an infatuation for Luc. Probably an unhealthy one too. In the past, she’d sometimes based Honey’s victims on real people. She’d changed their names, but readers could still figure it out. A few months ago, she’d put Brendan Fraser into a coma for subjecting moviegoers to Monkeybone, Dudley Do-Right, and Blast from the Past. But this was the first time Jane had written someone she knew personally into the column.

People might recognize Luc when the magazine hit the shelves in March. Definitely the readers in Seattle would. He’d probably hear about it too. She wondered if he’d mind. Most men wouldn’t, but Luc wasn’t most men. He didn’t like to read about himself in books, newspapers, or magazines. No matter how flattering. And the Honey article was extremely flattering to him. Hotter and more passionate than she’d ever written. In fact, it was the best thing she’d ever written. She hadn’t decided if she was actually going to send it in. She had a few days before her deadline to decide.

The drapes fell from her hands and she turned back to the room. It had been about sixteen hours since Luc had kissed the breath out of her. Sixteen hours of reliving and analyzing every word and action. Sixteen hours later, she still didn’t know what to think. He’d kissed her and changed everything. Well, actually, he’d done more than just kiss her. He’d touched her breast and told her she drove him crazy, and if his sister hadn’t been sitting out in the car, Jane might have thrown him down and checked out that lucky tattoo, which was driving her crazy every time she saw it in the locker room. And that would have been bad. Very bad. For a lot of reasons.

Jane kicked off her shoes and pulled her sweater over her head. She tossed it on the bed as she moved to the bathroom. Her eyes were scratchy and her brain fuzzy, and instead of locking herself in her room working on her Honey Pie article, she should be at the Pepsi Center, talking to the coaches and players before tomorrow night’s game. Darby had mentioned that the best time to talk to the coaches or front-office management was during practice. And Jane wanted to ask them about their new acquisition, Pierre Dion.

She jumped into the shower and let the warm water pour over her head. That morning when Luc boarded the jet, wearing his dark glasses, blue suit, and striped tie, her stomach had fluttered like she was thirteen again with her first junior high school crush. It was horrible, and she was old enough to know that having a crush on the most popular boy in school would only bring her heartache.

After fifteen minutes, she stepped out of the shower and grabbed two towels. If she was honest with herself, something she tried to avoid if possible, she could no longer fool herself into thinking that what she felt for him was nothing more than a crush. It was more. So much more, it scared her. She was thirty. Not a girl. She’d been in love and she’d been in lust and she’d been somewhere in between. But she’d never allowed herself to fall for a guy like Luc. Never. Not when she had so much to lose. Not when there was more at stake than just her contrary heart. Something more important: her job.

A broken heart would mend; she could get over that. But she didn’t think she could get over blowing the best opportunity she’d been given in a long time. Because of a man. That was plain stupid, and she wasn’t stupid.

A knock interrupted her thoughts, and she moved to the door. She looked out the peephole, and Luc stood on the other side, all windblown and perfect. He glanced down at the ground and she took a moment to study him. He wore his leather coat and a gray wool sweater, and he must have just come from outside because his cheeks were pink. He looked back up and his blue eyes stared at her through the peephole as if he could see her. “Open up, Jane.”