Red-Hot & Reckless

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He reached for the throw at the foot of the bed and moved it so she could get it if she wanted without risking injury.

“I thought we’d get some sleep first,” he said, glancing at his watch to find it after 2:00 a.m. “Then we can get a fresh start in the morning.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

He gestured toward the cuffs. “You will.”

“Confident. I like that in a man.”

Sexy. He liked that in a woman.

Nicole watched him move around the large open area of the loft, taking an extra top sheet from a set of drawers, and a pillow from the other side of the bed, then heading for the couch a good twenty feet away but still with a clear sight of the bed.

The cuffs clanked again. “You, um, wouldn’t have any condoms in those drawers over there, would you?” she asked quietly.

Alex grinned as he made up the couch, then stretched out to lay across it in his newly rented tux slacks and shirt. “Nope.”

Her long-suffering sigh filled the high-ceilinged area. “Some sex life you must have.”

“Who says I don’t go through a case of them a month and that I just ran out last night?” he asked.

He waited for her response, thinking she looked all too tempting there, handcuffed to his bed.

There was a twenty-four-hour convenience store on the corner….

“I say,” she whispered, then scooted down and rolled to her side.

Unfortunately, she was right.

Alex lay staring at the ceiling some twenty-five feet above him, thinking not for the first time that he should paint the black beams white or beige or something. Open the place up a bit.

But the diversionary tactic didn’t work. Because all he could think about was how long the night was going to be without sleep. And the reason he wasn’t going to be able to sleep was that there was a red-hot sexy woman lying in his bed and not only did she appear to want him in it with her, but he wanted more than anything to be in it with her.

Oh, he definitely had not thought this plan through. Because if he had, he would have not only bought a box of condoms, he would have invested in the damn company that made them.

4

ALEX GROANED and tried to snag the sexy, ghostly image haunting his dream. Nicole Bennett. He had not only apprehended her, but had finally put into action his plan to entice her to help him. But she had this strange blond wig on…and was wearing his pajamas. Well, “wearing” wasn’t quite accurate. Partially wearing them was closer. She’d only buttoned the top button, letting the flaps fall on either side of her toned abdomen, and she’d rolled the tops of the pants down dangerously low so that pale, taut skin taunted and teased and her navel ring winked at him as she moved. With a smoldering, provocative look, she kept tempting him closer. He moved the top flap of the pajama shirt aside and laved her large nipples with his tongue, and then tunneled his fingers into the back of the pants and molded her sweet bottom with his fingers…only to have her move away and waggle her finger at him teasingly, reminding him that he couldn’t have her.

Alex awakened with a start, surprised to find his breathing ragged, his member rock hard and his heart hammering.

Good God, what had that been about?

He ran his hands through his hair again and again, trying to get a grip on his runaway thoughts.

Condoms, he realized. The damn dream had been about the lack of available condoms.

He jackknifed upright on the sofa, then planted his bare feet firmly on the pitted wood planks of his floor, waiting for his vision to clear. Slowly he registered that sunlight was streaming through the tall multipane windows that ran the length of the wall to his left…and that his apartment was strangely silent.

He jerked his head up to stare at the bed across the room, then catapulted from the sofa.

Empty.

The covers were pushed aside, the handcuffs left hanging open on the iron bar where he’d fastened one cuff.

Of course last night the other cuff had been firmly attached to Nicole Bennett’s wrist.

“Damn,” he muttered, striding across the room. Her bag was gone along with her. He picked up the blanket. Also gone were his pajamas.

What did she want with his pajamas?

And just how in the hell had she gotten out of the cuffs?

He checked his pocket for the hairpins. No, she hadn’t managed to get them out somehow. There they still were. But obviously she hadn’t needed them to free herself. That explained why she’d given them up so readily.

He smacked the pins against the night table then stalked to the bathroom. He saw to his morning ritual of brushing his teeth, washing his face and applying deodorant by rote, then changed out of the tux and into a pair of jeans and black T-shirt. He stared at the T-shirt in the mirror, then yanked it off, replacing it with a red one. Black reminded him too much of the damn woman who had slipped through his fingers yet again.

Only this time she knew not only who he was and what he wanted, but where he lived.

Damn, damn, damn.

The telephone rang.

Alex stepped toward the kitchen—little more than a stretch of counters with a sink flanked by a refrigerator and stove against the far wall—and snatched up the cordless receiver.

“Hey,” he said gruffly. Coffee. He needed coffee, he thought, staring at the ancient coffeepot a few feet away.

“Kalimera,” his mother said—“good morning” in Greek. “Is that any way to answer your phone?”

Not Nicole.

Alex’s shoulders slumped as he looked at his watch. It was after nine. Since he’d finally dropped off to sleep at somewhere around five, that meant Nicole could be virtually anywhere east of the Mississippi, on her way to anywhere beyond that point. And he was completely clueless as to where to look for her first. Now that she knew he’d been following her, finding her at any of her regular hangouts was a no go.

The thought that she could virtually disappear from the face of the earth made his throat tighten.

He hadn’t realized he’d let rip a series of curse words in Greek until his mother asked, “What is it, agapemou, my love?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Look, Ma, can I call you back?”

Like sometime next week when he had his shit back together?

“Actually, this is more than a courtesy call, Alexanthros,” she said. “Your sister…she’s gone.”

Again? he thought but didn’t say.

He really couldn’t deal with this right now. Not when someone else was noticeably missing.

“Your father and I are worried sick. She went to work and we haven’t seen her since.”

“Maybe she spent the night at a friend’s place.”

“Two nights ago,” her mother said. “We haven’t seen her for two nights. Do you think I would call if it was only one? She’s never stayed away two nights in a row before.”

And there was a time when she hadn’t stayed out one, but lately it had been a regular occurrence. One night had certainly been nothing to write home about, and definitely nothing to warrant calling her ex-cop brother to look for her.

But two nights…

Alex stretched his neck and walked to the bed, pressing his hand against the imprint of where Nicole’s body had been. Still warm from her body heat.

“Ma, I’m sure she’s fine.”

“But—”

“I’ll check around for you if it will make you and Dad feel better.”

“Oh, thank you, agapemou, thank you.”

Alex punched the disconnect button then tossed the phone across the empty bed.

Athena was twenty-eight, no longer a child, and the only reason she still lived at home was because their parents wanted it that way. It was traditional in Greek culture that children lived at home until they married. And since Alex hadn’t taken that route, it made Athena’s situation doubly difficult. But while her mailing address might still be the Tudor-style house in Astoria, more and more often she stayed with one of her girlfriends in Manhattan, nearer to where she worked in Little Italy. The way he figured it, his parents should be happy she came home at all, considering the way they rode her. It was easy for him to avoid the “when are you getting married?”, “when are you going to settle down?”, “when are you going to get a real job?”, “when are you going to continue the family name?” questions. He didn’t have to see his parents nearly every day. Athena, on the other hand, described nightly dinner at the Cassavetes house as hell on earth.

So she up and disappeared for a day or two. The way he saw it, she was entitled. More than likely it was a survival technique. Much needed escape to keep herself from killing their overly protective, old-world parents.

He glared at the empty coffeepot, then pulled on his shoes and reached for his coat. Despite what he’d told his mother and despite his need for caffeine, the first challenge on his list was to find Nicole Bennett.

He turned toward the door, and nearly plowed right into her.

Alex stopped dead in his tracks. There she was, smelling of morning air and looking good enough to drink. He hadn’t heard her come in, although the old door held no fewer than six locks. And he couldn’t be sure how long she’d been there, given the way she leaned against a support post, a carrying case next to her feet. It could have been a minute; it could have been ten. Hell, she could have watched him since he was startled awake by his dream.

All he knew was that he’d never been more relieved to see anyone. And he feared that his objective to catch the thief wasn’t the only motivation behind his reaction.

The sides of Nicole’s mouth turned up in a naughty, knowing smile as she lifted an extralarge cup of coffee designed to satisfy anyone’s caffeine cravings. “Thought you could use this.”

Alex squinted at her. She was wearing a long, clingy black dress; what looked like combat boots that stretched to cover her knees, laced up the front, and had clunky heels; a shear black shirt that she had tied at the waist; and dozens of silver bracelets that clinked when she moved. He shook his head, wondering where she’d gotten the clothes but afraid to ask.