Page 74 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

Jack rolled his weight onto her, nipped her ear, and slapped her hip. “Be right back.” But he paused before getting up and frowned at something over her shoulder.

“What is it?” All she saw was a sleek lamp and digital clock.

“Nothing. I just always move the alarm cord so it’s tucked behind the nightstand. Ricky got tangled in it once, and I’m always careful. My cleaning lady is, too.”

“I guess one of you forgot?” They better have forgotten. Minor details like that could indicate an intruder. Lucien had harped on details. Anything that moves goes back. Disturbing a speck of dust can cause suspicion.

Jack was rich. Anyone could target him. Steal from him. Hurt him. Or maybe she really had been tailed at that concert and someone had broken into his house…or she was losing it. Half a minute into her new life, she was imagining break-ins and gun-wielding burglars, still so entrenched in that life. Because an alarm cord had been moved. Because she’d felt jumpy at a festival shortly after altering her entire life. Of course she’d been jumpy!

Jack gave his head a deprecating shake and gathered Ricky. “It was probably me. My mind’s been more than a little occupied the past few days.” He winked at Clementine.

Her head would take longer than a few days to quit undermining her. Messaging Lucien soon would help. “Hurry back.”

“Don’t you dare move.”

She had no plans to move from his bed. His home. His life.

As long as her past didn’t find a way to suck her back in.

22

Clementine stretched and yawned, her body and senses slowly waking up. Soft sheets. Cushy pillow. Fluffy duvet. Faint scents of man and sex tickled her nose. This was definitely not her mildew-smelling motel, and she was not the same Clementine Abernathy. For the first time in her memory, she felt pure happiness. There was no trepidation about an upcoming job, no second-guessing her choices. However her life panned out from here, she’d always remember this peace.

She cracked an eye open and reached out for Jack. She came in contact with empty sheets. In place of his body was a note:

Find my blue suede shoes.

Come again?

Had he really left her in his king-size bed, alone, with a note to do his bidding? Lucky for him, her body still felt floaty and satiated, her best parts sore and well used. He’d still be getting an earful about morning-after etiquette.

Their clothes were scattered on his floor, igniting delicious memories of peeling them off. She poked through his drawers and pulled out a white T-shirt, long enough to cover her bum. She spotted his blue suede shoes by her jean shorts and stared at them. Following instructions when in bed had turned her on like nothing she’d ever felt. If she had to guess, she’d say his need for control stemmed from his awful teenage experience. This demand, although mundane, wasn’t so understandable.

The new Clementine Abernathy was an independent woman, who wouldn’t kowtow to any man, even Jack. But this was one favor. Grabbing something for him wasn’t changing who she was, as long as it didn’t become a pattern.

She snatched up the shoes, but felt something inside the right one. Another piece of paper. With more instructions. A slow smile spread as she read it: Find my shampoo.

These weren’t demands. He was playing with her.

She beelined for the bathroom and spied her next clue: Find my car keys. So absorbed in him last night, she didn’t remember him dropping his keys, but most people left them by the front door. She brushed her teeth with his toothbrush—to avoid killing him with her morning breath—then headed to her target, her bare feet slapping the floor as she hurried. Her guess had been spot on. She snatched the newest paper and read greedily: Find my biggest addiction.

She didn’t know the answer to that one, which irked her. She wanted to know all of Jack’s addictions and hates and hobbies and the noises that had scared him as a kid. Without him here to question, she headed for the kitchen and the addiction that cursed most people in the morning.

Jackpot.

Not-Maxwell Elvis Jack grinned at her, coffee cup poised at his lips. “Took you long enough.”

God, he was sexy as hell, standing there in black briefs and a blue T-shirt. “Are you the prize at the end of this scavenger hunt?”

“One of them.”

“What’s with the game?”

His shrug was anything but nonchalant. “Just having fun.”

Liar. “Is there coffee for me?”

He jutted his chin toward the coffee maker. “The pods go in the top.”