Her free hand fumbled with the door chain and opened the dead bolts. Sam opened the door partway and stepped through. As it closed behind him, he caught her close.
For a long, wordless moment, he held her tight. Tears blurred Jasmine’s eyes. She let them flow as her body softened against his.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she whispered. “I was afraid I’d lost you.”
“You should have known I couldn’t stay away.” His kiss was long and fervent, awakening a flood of sensations that were deeper than lust, deeper than desire. Jasmine had never imagined that it was possible to love someone so much.
Only as he released her did he notice the pistol in her hand. “What on earth—” He eased it from her clenched fingers. “Were you planning to shoot me, Jasmine?”
Before she could collect her thoughts to speak, he looked past her. “What—?” He stared at what she’d done with the bed. “Jasmine, is someone after you?”
Jasmine scrambled for a response. Telling Sam what had happened in the condo and afterward would compromise him and their relationship. It would also endanger her mother. The truth, if it were to become known, could trigger an avalanche of tragedies.
“I’m sorry. It’s nothing, really.” She gave him an apologetic shake of her head. “I just get nervous when I’m alone in a strange place. I imagine that every footstep going past the door is some evildoer who’s going to break in and murder me. When I heard your first knock, it threw me into a panic. You can imagine how foolish I feel now.”
He surveyed the hastily arranged bed. “Are you sureyou’re all right? I get the feeling there’s more to this than what you’re telling me.”
“I’m fine, especially now that you’re here,” Jasmine insisted, turning toward him. “Please, let’s forget it. I just want to be in your arms.”
“And I just want to be in … you.” He pulled her close. His hands invaded her T-shirt, caressing the naked skin beneath, the curve of her hips, her eager buttocks, her breasts, until her whole body tingled with need.
“Oh, you wicked, wicked man …” she murmured as his hand slid down her belly, then lower, setting off a cascade of miniature explosions. “I want you, Sam. I want you so much I can hardly stand it.”
“I think you’re about to have me.” Freeing a hand, he shoved aside the piled covers and lowered her to the bed. It took him mere seconds to shed his boots and jeans. She finished by working the elastic waistband of his briefs down over his jutting erection. She loved the size of him, the baby smoothness and the steely hardness beneath. She loved his manly warmth, the scent of him and the breathy sound he made as he entered. Now he was there, her love, her Sam, thrusting deep inside her where he belonged.
“Welcome home,” she whispered.
Afterward, she lay spooned against him, legs tangled with legs. This was her heaven. The world could stop right here and she wouldn’t mind, as long as they could stay like this. But a new problem had arisen that could change everything.
She had always been truthful with Sam, even about her past as a party girl. But how could she tell him that her mother, the glamorous Madeleine Carlisle Culhane, had killed her mobster lover and taken his place in the Divino crime family?
Sooner or later, the truth was bound to come out. If Samknew she’d kept it from him, he would never forgive her. But how could she betray her own mother, whom she loved in spite of her lawless ways—her mother, who had killed a man to save her life?
Sam had fallen into a doze. Beside him, Jasmine lay awake, listening to him breathe, treasuring each moment, knowing that the time of truth would come—the time when her dreams would crash like birds shot out of the sky, falling dead around her.
CHAPTERSIX
They made love again on the cusp of morning drowsiness, with slow, delicious passion. Afterward, Sam rolled out of bed, pulled on his clothes, and headed for a few minutes in the bathroom. The time had come for him to leave.
Curled between the sheets, Jasmine waited for the lingering pleasure to fade. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready to let him go. She wanted to see his face and hear his voice a little longer.
He came back into the room, his face freshly washed and his damp hair finger-combed. Stubble made a sexy shadow along his jawline.
She sat up. “You need to eat,” she said. “We could order breakfast from room service.”
“That would take at least an hour,” he said. “I don’t have that kind of time. But we could grab a quick bite in the coffee shop downstairs.”
“That would be fine, if you’re not worried about being seen.”
“Two people having coffee in public shouldn’t raise any flags. Let’s get going. I can check my phone while you’re getting dressed.”
“I’ll hurry.” She flew out of bed. Ten minutes later, they left the room and headed for the elevator. Jasmine was wearing jeans, a loose-fitting Grateful Dead tee, a baseball cap, and the barest touch of makeup. They looked like a couple of tourists who’d gotten in late after a long drive, Jasmine thought. Nobody would give them a second glance.
In the crowded coffee shop, all of the booths were taken. Jasmine and Sam had to settle for a small table in the middle of the floor. Sam ordered plain black coffee. Jasmine took hers with cream and wheat toast. The place was too noisy for private conversation, but at least Jasmine could satisfy herself with watching her man across the table and hoping for another night in his arms.
Sam was sitting with his back toward the coffee shop’s wide entrance. Looking past him, Jasmine’s eye was caught by a well-dressed couple passing from the direction of the lobby. The tall, thin man was wearing a fedora and a tan, summer-weight sport jacket. The petite blonde on his arm was dressed in white slacks and a matching jacket with a broad-brimmed, black sun hat. They paused and turned, as if checking for a place to eat. For an instant, the woman’s eyes made contact with Jasmine’s. There was an unmistakable flicker of recognition before they moved on and vanished.
Jasmine’s hand shook, splattering coffee on the tablecloth.