did not take a damn thing.â
He snorted again. âIâll see if Bette remembers anything.â He had already interrogated her once, and of course she had denied helping her friend. But maybe she would remember Muriel going through her purse or taking something from her apartment. Would she admit it to him, though? Or would she continue to protect her friend?
âYou and that sleazebag managing partner of yours have already treated Bette like crap,â Muriel said. âYou are not going to hurt her anymore.â Now she jabbed the stop button, and the elevator jerked to a shuddering halt between floors.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â he asked as an alarm began to ring, echoing throughout the small car. His head started to pound, nearly as hard as his heart had been since the moment he caught sight of her crossing the lobby like she was gliding down a fashion-show runaway.
Ronan was not crazy about confined spacesâespecially being confined with her. He punched the button to restart the elevator.
It lurched up, then began to dropâthe car and his stomach. Heâd been worried about losing his law license, but apparently that wasnât all that Muriel Sanz might cost him. Heâd be lucky if he survived this elevator ride with her.
* * *
A scream tore from Murielâs throat as her feet left the floor. The elevator was falling faster than she was, plummeting down the shaft. Then the car jerked so abruptly to a stop that she tumbled forward, falling hard. But she didnât hit the terrazzo floor of the elevator car. Instead she hit a heavily muscled body that had fallen before she had.
Ronan Hall lay sprawled across the car, his legs stretched across the floor while his back and shoulders had slammed against one of the smoked glass and brass walls. Maybe his head had hit the wall, as well, since his eyes were closed.
Was he unconscious?
From where sheâd landed against his chest, she stared up at his handsome face. His features could have been carved from granite; he was that chiseledâhis jaw square, his cheekbones as sharp as his nose. His lashes were long and thick and black against his cheeks. They didnât so much as flicker.
Despite herself and all the many thousands of reasons she had to hate his guts, concern filled her, and she asked, âAre you okay?â
âI donât know,â he replied, his voice low and gruff. âDid we stop falling yet?â
She was afraid to move, just in case they hadnât. That fear was the only reason she lay atop him, her legs tangled with his. Or else she would have scrambled off his body. But she didnât dare in case the elevator began to fall again.
She sucked in a breath and held it, and his scent filled her nostrils and her head. He smelled so damn goodânot like expensive cologne that her ex had always worn. No. Ronan smelled like soap and...
A scent that was his alone.
Not only was he handsome as hell but he had to smell good, too? It wasnât fair, but she shouldnât have been surprised. Life had not been very fair to Muriel lately.
She was too positive to let that keep her down, though. She would not stay down now, either, once she was certain the elevator wasnât going to drop all the way to the bottom of the shaft and crumple like an aluminum can under a car tire.
âAre you okay?â Ronanâs voice, even deeper with concern, asked the question now.
She glanced up at his face to find his eyes open as he studied her. She shrugged, then gasped as the car creaked. Ronanâs strong arms slid around her, holding her stillâor maybe she had already tensed because heâd touched her. Either way, she was frozen with fearâof falling and of how he was making her feel.
âDonât move,â he said, his voice dropping so low that it was a deep rumble in his chest.
She had no intention of moving, but she couldnât control the frantic beating of her heart. It was pounding so hard that she felt her whole body shaking with the force of it. Hers wasnât the only one. His heart hammered in time with hers. Her breasts were crushed against his muscular chest.
âCan I breathe?â she asked, her lungs aching as she tried to control the panic making her want to pant for air.
âI donât know if we should...â he murmured, but his breath stirred her hair as he whispered the words.
A strand tangled in her lashes, but she didnât dare reach up for it. But that meant her hands stayed where they were, and she only just realized exactly where they were and what she was touching. Instinctively sheâd extended them to break her fall, and since sheâd fallen on him, her hands were on him. One was against his biceps while the other was braced on his thigh. Both muscles rippled beneath her touch, as if heâd just realized where she was touching him, too.
And his body, which had already been taut with tension, grew harder yet. Against her abdomen, she felt his erection straining the fly of his dress pants.
He must have come right from the office to see Bette, since he was still wearing a suit. In the pictures sheâd seen of him in his downtime, heâd had on jeans and a T-shirt. Not that sheâd seen that many pictures of him in his downtime. If he and his partners in the Street Legal law practice hadnât been as notorious as they were in Manhattan, he probably wouldnât have been photographed at all. But he and the others were infamous for being ruthless litigators and lovers. When they were photographed outside the courtroom, they were usually with a famous femaleâan actress or model or fashion designer...
She tried to shift her hips, so her mound wouldnât press so tightly against his cock. But he groaned. And one of his arms slid around her back as his hand grasped her hip.
Through gritted teeth, he warned her, âDo. Not. Move.â
The elevator had stopped dropping. It had even stopped making those ominous creaking noises. âI donât think itâs going to fall,â she said.
âIâm not worried about the elevator,â he replied.
âThen why are we lying on the floor afraid to move?â she asked.
He groaned again and his fingers tightened their hold. But she doubted that he was in any real painâbecause his mouth curved into a slight, naughty grin. âMaybe I was just enjoying you throwing yourself at me.â
She sucked in a breath of shock and wriggled, trying to move off him. But his hands held her too tightly, and all she managed was to grind her hips against his groin. And to rock the elevator again.
The cables creaked. But they held. The car was not going to tumble any farther down the shaft. She was not worried about dying anymore. Instead, she was worried about her reaction to Ronan Hall.
Instead of slowing down, her heart was beating even faster. Her skin was tingling and hot everywhere her body was in contact with hisâwhich was pretty much everywhere. He was so muscular, so tall and broad.
And when sheâd sucked in that breath, sheâd inhaled his scent again; it filled her head. The way he would
