* * *
Park
I’m trackingthe woman from the dressing room.
I have to.
I stuck the computer chip to the price tag of her purple scarf. The leftover adhesive on the back of the microchip really came in handy.
When I saw the two men outside the store, I knew the chip would be safer with someone else. So I planted it on the woman. She’s my mule. I’m counting on her to get it out of the mall safely without raising suspicion.
But now that I see her climbing up the escalator, I’m starting to wonder if I made a bad choice.
I rush to her side, but she’s looking over her shoulder at something on the lower level as she hops up the steps with one foot. That’s when I see her shoelace stuck in the landing platform. It must be caught in the motor or gears. I bend down and yank the lace free. She stumbles, and my arms wrap around her waist and back so she doesn’t fall.
Her frenzied blue eyes turn to me.
“Are you okay?”
She looks down, then back up. There’s genuine fear in her gaze. Maybe she thought the escalator was going to eat her alive.
“Whatever happens in the next thirty seconds, just go with it. Okay?” Then she grabs the collar on my jacket and pulls me to her, pressing her lips against mine.
I’m stunned and motionless for the first two seconds. I even peek open my eyes to see if this is really what she meant to do. There’s movement on the other escalator next to ours. One of the operatives is traveling upward, and we’ll pass each other in a few seconds. I spin the woman’s body, so my back’s to the other guy. That’s when she ups the passion of the kiss. Her body leans in, and she presses her chest against mine. Her fingers glide along the base of my neck, playing with the tips of my hair. She must’ve interpreted my shift in our position as me raising the stakes of the kiss.
Well, if she’s going to go there. I’m going to go here—I react by clutching her body, pulling her even closer. Who says you can’t mix business with pleasure? Besides, right now, it’s better for my business if I’m not alone.
She deepens the passion again, taking this kiss to the next level. We’re at a Christmas Eve magic, stars sparkling in the sky, snowflakes falling on the ground kind of level.
And I’m here for it.
Allof it.
She’s Rudolph, and I’m Santa Claus—she’s guiding this sleigh ride.
How long does this escalator ride take? It has to be the slowest one I’ve ever been on. I’m not complaining, though. If there was an escalator technician I could bribe to make it last even longer, I would because this kiss warms me up more than hot cocoa on a freezing cold day. For a second—who am I kidding? It’s beenmanyseconds now—I lose myself in the kiss, not even thinking about the men trying to kill me, and that’s saying something. Operatives who lose focus on a job are usually the ones that wind up getting themselves killed.
My feet bump into the bottom platform, and our bodies stumble off the escalator together, but somehow our lips stay locked as if neither of us wants to break apart.
“Lacee?” Someone clears their throat.
Is this person talking to us?
“Lacee?” The voice repeats louder.
She pulls away, leaving my lips tingling with electricity. Her blue eyes stare back at me. I can’t decipher the look behind them—there are literally a million things she could be thinking right now, but I hope at least one thought is about how amazing that kiss was.
“Lacee? I thought that was you.”
I quickly dart my gaze around. The men looking for me disappear out of sight on the upper terrace, so I shift my eyes to the kiss interrupter. A man in a tan peacoat stands in front of us. He’s in his early forties. A thin woman with long dark hair is hanging on his arm—probably in her early thirties—with a giant princess-cut diamond ring glittering on her finger.
Lacee (it’s kind of fun knowing her name) shoots him a theatrical smile. “Nicholas? I didn’t even notice you.”
Yeah, because you were delivering one of the best kisses of my life.
“Yes, I can see you were busy.” His eyes move to me, then back to her.
“Oh, sorry.” She gestures between us. “You know me. The holidays just get me in the—”
