and tugs me closer, as any husband in love with his wife might do. I tilt my face up, trying to read him. But Owen’s poker face is world class. He’s a master joker, a friend to all…and known by none.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
The heat from his body melts me and I pull my hand away from his grip and press it to his chest. His mother’s ring glimmers. “Making conversation.”
I’m not, though. I’m dancing around something I know I shouldn’t be doing. A suggestion which has occupied me with increasing strength from the very second we were left alone in our apartment at 21 Love Street.
“It’s not a smart conversation,” he says.
“Because you’re going to reject me again?” I don’t know why I’m setting myself up for this.
“I should.”
Should. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. “Because we work together?”
Owen’s lips lift into a smile. “That should be the reason you keep your hands to yourself. I’ve got no interest in rejoining the force.”
“Then why?”
“Because you don’t want casual sex.”
His assumption that he knows me so well—regardless of how accurate the statement is—annoys me. Okay, fine, so maybe I already know sex with him wouldn’t be casual even if it was a one-time only deal. So what? I’m a grown woman and I know how to deal with the consequences of my actions.
“That’s my decision to make,” I reply. “And I haven’t voiced what I want, so I’m not sure why you think it’s your place to tell me.”
We’re close now. So close that if we swayed it would look like we were slow-dancing. The people around us might assume the intimate chatter between us is verbal foreplay—and I guess it is. I can’t seem to do the sensible thing and back away, because the moment I heard about his move to New York, I thought I’d lost him forever.
Who falls for the most unattainable guy in the world and expects to survive without any bruises on her heart? I’m a fool.
But maybe a few bruises would do me good. It’s been so long since I did anything that wasn’t work. And yes, I want to solve this case and prove my boss made the right decision to promote me…but this could be my last chance to have the man who’s always occupied my head. What happens behind the closed doors of our apartment isn’t anyone’s business.
This was precisely why I wanted us to play brother and sister…because I knew that one kiss for the sake of playing a role would be enough to unlatch the feelings I’ve locked up tight for far too long.
“Then tell me, Hannah. What do you want?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy something that gets my intuition tingling. And, as much as I desperately want to keep playing this game with Owen, the case does come first. “Matt and Celina are arguing.”
“Huh?” Owen blinks and I entwine my fingers with his, pulling him toward the next sculpture in the exhibition. “Where?”
“Your nine o’clock.” I lean over so it looks like I’m reading the little gold plaque. “They’re standing by the hallway.”
“Got it. She looks pissed.”
I let my gaze drift casually in the direction of the argument. A few people have noticed and are moving away, so Celina and Matt head down the dark corridor together, disappearing into another part of the gallery.
“Think it’s something?” I ask. I stand and lean my head against Owen’s shoulder, so we can speak without anyone hearing.
“Not sure. Did you notice her earrings before?”
I nod. “Big stones. Could be fake, though.”
“We should try to get a photo to compare to the list of stuff that went missing in the Collins Auction House robbery.” His voice is low, gravelly. He could be reciting a shopping list and still make it sound like the sexiest thing ever. “I had a funny feeling about them.”
“Me, too.”
I walk forward, unhurried. Partly because I don’t want to draw any attention, and partly because it’s the only speed I can maintain in these damn heels. Owen is beside me, his hand still in mine. I feel as though my body is burning up. We receive curious glances from other people in the room—but nothing that gets my police officer senses tingling. My dress demands attention and Owen…well, he’s always got appreciative eyes on him. The open-collar shirt and grey suit pants make him look every bit the hot Aussie millionaire he’s supposed to be.
We slip past the gold sign that tells us this hallway is “for staff use only” and follow the voices.
“Then why did you invite me here?” Matt sounds irritated and in the quiet pause, I can hear sniffling. “I thought we agreed to part ways after…”
I shuffle closer to a bend in the hallway, and I can tell they’re just around the corner. Celina is definitely crying.
“Can you walk away so easily?” she asks. “After everything we shared?”
“You were the one who said you couldn’t do this anymore. I was ready to go all in.”
“No, you weren’t. Because you would have listened to me if you’d cared at all about my feelings.”
It’s a lover’s spat. Nothing more. I’m about to motion for Owen to head back the way we came, when she mutters something under her breath.
“Here, take these bloody things. I’m not going to wear something you stole.” There’s a long pause and the sound of something dropping against the floor.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Cel. They were a gift.” Matt sighs. “Does it matter where they came from?”
My brows shoot up and Owen nods. This could be something—because I am damn sure she’s talking about the earrings.
“Yes, it matters. It should have mattered before but I was willing to look past your…unethical activities.” She huffs and the sound of shoes knocking against the floor makes my heart kick up a notch. Shit. They’re coming this way. “You promised me you’d get out of that stuff. It’s dangerous.”
Owen backs up as silently as possible. The hallway isn’t long but I’m moving slow and a little unsteadily in these heels…we’re not going to get back out before they come around the corner. And there’s nowhere else to go.
As I sense a flash of movement, Owen pushes me against the wall and his lips are hard on mine once more. It’s even better this time than it was the first—because anticipation has been fuelling my every movement. My every waking moment. I open to him like a flower, my body warm and pliable in his hands. The soft groan that comes from the back of his throat is everything.
The scent of his cologne winds through me, and like a creeping vine it wraps around my heart and lungs. I’m intoxicated by him. Enraptured by the way his hands smooth over the
