Propositioned?

Sarah could hardly think straight, much less speak. At last she recovered enough to form a sentence. “I think that’s my line.”

His brawny shoulders and rippling muscles belied the fact that this man worked behind a desk. The dark, silky hair matting his chest tantalized her, but her hands fisted into the sheets as he loomed closer. She knew he’d be as dangerous to touch as a real wolf.

It was a danger that strangely appealed to her.

Sarah sucked in a deep breath. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“But I’m so glad you are.” He reached out one broad hand and lightly traced the length of the red glove encasing her left arm.

His touch was hypnotic. Her gaze followed his hand as it trailed up her forearm, then down again. She should make some kind of excuse, jump out of this bed and run right out the door.

Only the diamond necklace was still in her picnic basket, and that basket sat directly beneath the safe. If she left it behind, could Michael find a way to trace it to her? She needed time to think. A new plan.

But thought became impossible when Michael leaned even closer, the canopy drape falling closed behind him so that they were now enclosed in silky darkness. Only the barest hint of light glowed behind the golden drapes.

Michael’s face was hidden in the shadows, which just made everything seem more unreal. More dreamlike.

Until he kissed her. The taste of him was very real. Dizzying. Delicious. His warm, firm mouth skimmed her lips in a way that actually made her lean into him for more.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he deepened the kiss and she had to grab his broad shoulders to keep from falling back on the bed. Her fingers encountered warm skin and hard muscle that flexed beneath her touch.

Michael moved beside her on the bed, never breaking the kiss, as his fingers slid down the length of her throat to the bow tied at the collar of her cloak. He worked it with his fingers until it loosened, the fabric gaping to reveal the red silk blouse she wore underneath.

He broke the kiss and used both hands to reverently lower the hood, revealing her hair tied back in a ponytail. He released it, so that her wayward dark curls hung about her face. Winding one loosely around his index finger, he brushed it against the rough whiskers on his jaw.

“Soft.” His voice was husky, his eyes intense.

Desire pooled low in her belly as Michael slid her cloak off her shoulders, his hungry gaze roaming over her body.

Sarah reached out one hand, but instead of pushing him away, she placed her palm flat against his chest. The silky hair there trickled between her fingers. Her touch made his chest muscles contract and she could feel the fast gallop of his heart beneath her hand.

Almost as fast as her own. “My, what big muscles you have,” she whispered, knowing instinctively how risky it was to tease a wolf. But Sarah couldn’t seem to stop herself. She didn’t want to stop.

“All the better to hold you with, my dear.” Then Michael kissed her again, even more hungrily this time. He enveloped her shoulders with his grip, the warmth of his big hands seeping through the thin silk of her blouse.

He pulled her closer, until her body was flush against his own. Silk against skin. Soft against hard. The intimate contact made her long for more. Made her forget everything but this man. This moment.

As his mouth devoured her, his fingers stalked the buttons of her blouse. The zipper on her skirt. Until she wore nothing but her lacy red bra and panties, lingerie bought on a whim yesterday to implement her New Year’s resolution to take more risks. No more boring beige underwear.

No more boring beige life.

“My, what big hands you have,” she gasped as his touches became more intimate.

She could sense rather than see his predatory smile.

“All the better to ravish you with, my dear.”

Then he did just that, but with a fierce tenderness that both touched and aroused her. Michael’s big hands peeled away her bra with such sensual skill that Sarah thought she must be dreaming.

Then those incredible hands moved lower.

A midnight madness now consumed her and she simply couldn’t think at all anymore. Only feel. The hard length of his body pressed against her. The skilled pressure of his hands. The urgent heat of his kisses.

Soon they were both naked. Both voracious. Both hunting for the pleasure they knew they’d only find in each other.

Michael tasted every inch of her. His tongue stroking her breasts. Her belly. The inside of her thighs. His ravenous exploration of her body driving her wild. A wildness he seemed to share when she did the same to him.

“Oh, Red,” he moaned, his breath coming in short pants as her hair swept over his belly. Strangled groans of desire emanated from deep in his chest.

At last, Michael pulled her up to kiss him. Frantically. Reverently. Her naked body now lay atop his own and she wasn’t surprised to find they fit perfectly together.

Then he rolled her under him, reaching into a drawer and retrieving a condom in the same movement. He tore it open with his teeth, then inhaled a choked breath as she slowly rolled it on him.

When he reached up to remove her mask, she shook her head, determined to remain anonymous, to perpetuate the fantasy. They were two strangers in the night. No names. No questions. No promises.

Only Michael did make promises. With his hands. His mouth. His body. At last he sank into her, moving with deliberate slowness to draw out the exquisiteness of the moment. She’d never made love like this before. Never with so much savage hunger. So much need. So much passion. Animal passion that now consumed her, bringing out her most primal instincts. Her hands raked across his back as he brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

“Michael,” she cried, wanting more of him. All of him.

“Red,” he breathed, sweeping his lips across her mouth and shifting his body in a way that heightened the incredible sensations twisting through her.

It was enough to send her over the edge.

She took him with her, his body tensing in her arms, then shuddering with one final thrust. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breathing as harsh and uneven as her own. When at last he collected himself, he turned onto his side, pulling her with him.

“I won’t let you go,” he whispered, even as his eyelids drooped. His arm tightened around her, pulling her even closer.

Sarah relaxed against him, all her nerve endings still thrumming. The warmth of his large body enveloped her like a cocoon. She closed her eyes for a moment, still caught up in the fantasy, one she knew had to end very soon. But not yet.

Not quite yet.

SARAH AWOKE SLOWLY the next morning, the rays of the morning sun streaming through the open drapes. She winced at the brightness, yawned lazily, then suddenly she realized that she was naked beneath the silk sheets.

Naked in Michael Wolff’s arms.

Panic hit her like a jolt of caffeine. She’d fallen asleep last night. She hadn’t returned the necklace to the safe. She was in big trouble.

Her body tensed as she listened to the sound of Michael’s deep, even breathing. At least he was still asleep. She might still have a chance to make her escape before he awoke.

Carefully extricating herself from his arms, she slipped soundlessly out of the big round bed. How could she have fallen asleep last night? She remembered lying in his embrace, waiting for him to drift off. The warmth of his naked body pressed against her. The sated afterglow of her own. The dreamy visions of more nights together.

A dream that could never come true.

Instead, she’d created her own nightmare. She’d proved beyond all doubt that she wasn’t cut out for a life of crime—as if sleeping with her family’s archenemy hadn’t already done that.

But Sarah couldn’t let herself think about that now. She had to get dressed, get the necklace back in the safe, then get the hell out of there.

She frantically searched for the clothes he’d stripped off of her the night before. All she could find were her panties, bra, boots and the cloak. Her gloves, blouse and skirt had to still be in the bed with him.

Not willing to take the risk of waking him, she hastily pulled on her bra and panties, then tied the wrinkled red cloak around her neck. She placed her boots in the picnic basket, deciding not to put them on until she was out of the house. Her exit needed to be as silent as possible.

Her basket still sat directly beneath the safe. Thankfully, Michael hadn’t noticed it there last night or he might have gotten suspicious. He might have questioned her in his bed instead of making love to her there.

Memories of the night before washed over her, warming her cheeks. In the light of day, making love to Michael Wolff seemed like a huge mistake. But she’d worry about that later. After she was out of his house.

Padding silently to the safe, she slowly opened the panel. The slight squeal made her wince. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she didn’t see any movement from the bed, though the canopy drapes obscured her vision of Michael. She hoped he was a deep sleeper.

Fifty-four. Telling herself not to rush it, Sarah turned the dial on the safe, her fingers sensing the slight give in the tension of the dial when she reached the first number of the combination.

Thirteen. She reversed the direction of the dial, hearing her own rapid heartbeat in her ears.

Sixty-one. She heard the satisfying click as she reached the last number. Almost there.

Sarah slowly swung open the heavy steel door of the safe, thankful it didn’t squeak. Then she bent down and reached inside her basket for the worn velvet jewelry case, a case she hoped to never lay eyes on again.

Sarah carefully set the velvet case deep inside the safe, releasing a deep breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Then Michael’s cold, harsh voice turned her blood to ice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

4

MICHAEL COULDN’T BELIEVE his eyes. He blinked, certain he must be dreaming—or in the midst of some horrific nightmare. Red was standing there with her hand inside his safe.

He catapulted out of the bed, flinging the heavy canopy drapes back behind him. He watched her beautiful green eyes drop down his body and realized too late that he was still naked.

But he was too furious to care.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he said, barely able to keep his voice below a roar.

She still wore the red mask, along with the red cloak, though the hood was down. Her silky dark hair spilled wildly over her shoulders.

He remembered the sensation of that hair on his skin last night when she’d explored his body with her mouth. Sweet torture.

Michael hastily turned around and grabbed his bulky terry cloth robe off the hook near the bed, pulling it on before she could see the effect the sensual memory had on him.

When he faced her again, her green eyes met his through the mask and he saw her swallow.

“I…I…”

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