Finder's Keeper (33 page)
Lucien kept half an ear out for the sound of the next train and conjured up a lazy grin. He let his gaze linger on the way the dark, stretchy fabric of her supersuit cupped the curve of her breasts. “Would you like to frisk me? Cuz I know I’d like it.”
“Knock it off. You’re caught. Give it up.”
“I’m caught, am I? How are you planning to get me back to that lovely holding cell? Flying didn’t work out so well for you last time.”
She reached to the belt on her hip, pulled out a phone, swiped a thumb across the touchpad without looking and held it up to her ear with a smugly triumphant smirk. A smirk which faded as she pulled it away from her ear to glare at the uncooperative device.
“No service?” he purred.
Thank God for the crappy reception of subway tunnels. His abilities were too far blown to handle the cavalry right now.
“I’ll fly you there if I have to,” DynaGirl declared, but the first waver of doubt edged her tone.
Supers could do superhuman things—hence the name—but there was only so far they could push themselves before they crashed with a power hangover that would bring the gods to their knees. Lucien was inches from his own breaking point and, from the tremor in her voice, it sounded like his tenacious little sex kitten of a nemesis was right there with him.
Which meant she was vulnerable. He just needed one more sprint. He could last a few more seconds before his brain exploded into white-hot agony. He had to. For Mirabelle.
He heard the distant electrical whine of a train coming down the tracks. Three minutes, give or take…
Lucien let the icy-hot pain starting to spike in his temples show on his face. “I could come quietly,” he said, making his voice tight with strain. “For a price.”
“I don’t negotiate with supervillains.”
“Not even for my surrender? My
complete
surrender.”
Interest lit her up-tilted emerald eyes, but her jaw remained clenched in an unyielding line. “No deals. I won’t bribe you to play nice when you’ve already lost.”
“But all I wanted was a kiss.”
She went motionless above him, as if she’d forgotten the need to breathe.
“One little kiss,” he purred. “And I’ll go meekly to my jail cell. No tricks. No trouble.”
He couldn’t read her expression. Something odd and almost hopeful colored the suspicion in her gaze. She hesitated. The train rattled closer. Her fingers eased their death grip on his hair.
“Why?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a shot at the great Darla Powers. Who hasn’t? That
Maxim
spread changed my life.”
Her eyes darkened. “That damn magazine—”
“Hey, don’t damn that magazine. I could compose sonnets to that magazine. Especially your issue. I think you single-handedly launched a generation of twelve-year-old boys into puberty with that spread.” The picture had become a cultural icon. Darla Powers, the super answer to Marilyn Monroe. “Tell me you still have the bustier and I’ll die happy.”
She blushed. “That is none of your business.”
Dear God, she still has it.
Unwholome interest stirred below Lucien’s belt. He’d been joking, but now he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Her incredible figure overflowing the snug black lace with a shimmering red D curled under one breast in a parody of her suit. Maybe she still wore it. Maybe she put it on for the schmuck boyfriend who’d let her walk out on their date. Jealousy gave his gut an ugly twist, but he ignored it. She wasn’t with her schmuck boyfriend now.
“One kiss,” he said, the words coming out as more of a demand than he’d intended, his voice so dark and hungry he barely recognized it. “One kiss and I’ll do whatever you want.”
The words were supposed to be a lie, but at the moment he almost believed them himself. Darla Powers was a woman who could own a man’s soul if she put her mind to it. If she could let herself be that bad…
She leaned over him, and he sank his hand into the curls at the base of her skull. “C’mon, princess,” he coaxed, his gaze locked on her pillowy lips. “Even good girls get to be bad sometimes.”
She went rigid in his arms. “No. We don’t.”
The train was nearly there now.
Ten seconds…
Darla began to resist his hold, but Lucien had run out of time for persuasion.
Now or never
.
He sat up and twisted abruptly, using a pulse of superspeed to get her sprawled on her back before she realized negotiations were over. He caught her startled gasp on his lips.
The kiss was a sneak attack—quick and fierce and designed to startle and unsettle her. It wasn’t supposed to sear across his nerve endings with unexpected heat. He wasn’t supposed to be tempted to fall into the taste of her and abandon his will to fight. Soft, warm, luscious—the definition of a dangerous woman.
Her hands fell away from his hair, shoving at his shoulders without any real strength as she made the most deliciously wanton noise in her throat.
In a different world, he would stay here and finish what they’d started, explore this incendiary chemistry, coax that sound from her again and again. But she was still a hero and he’d long since been cast in the villain role. If he wanted any future for his sister, he couldn’t waste time playing doctor with DynaGirl.
The first train car thundered into the abandoned station.
He threw himself off her. “Sorry, princess.” The last of his reserves went into a surge of superspeed as he leapt onto the tracks and sprinted down the tunnel in front of the engine. The racing train sealed the tunnel entrance behind him before DynaGirl could gather herself to follow.
He didn’t have time to thrill at the victory of escape. He was too busy trying to maintain his speed until he reached the next platform so he didn’t end up a bloody smear on the tracks.
Lucien ran, his head slowly exploding, the stolen papers crinkling in his pocket with the sound of success, Darla’s taste still sweet on his lips.
Finder’s Keeper
Vivi Andrews
Love isn’t a science. It’s pure chemistry.
Karmic Consultants, Book 6
True love? For neuroscientist Dr. Mia Corregianni, it’s just an unproven hypothesis. But when she loses the heirloom watch her family believes is enchanted with a potent love spell, she fights superstition with superstition by hiring a psychic finder to track it down.
Chase Hunter is a human compass, homing in on whatever the seeker wants most—that is, when he isn’t surfing or actively avoiding anything resembling a real human attachment. Such has been his life since an accident took his family.
Unfortunately, Mia’s case isn’t a simple insta-Find. The catch? To disguise his real mission from her romance-crazy family, he has to pretend to be her boyfriend. He could deal with that if her complicated emotions weren’t blocking his abilities—or if her innermost desires weren’t walloping him upside the head every time he opens himself to his gift.
As the case wears on, their fake romance begins to feel all too real. Scary stuff for a man who’s reluctant to let himself live again. And a woman who doesn’t believe in magic…or love.
Warning: This book contains meddling grandmothers, magic watches, and a surfer with a body so hot it can teach any scientist the true meaning of chemistry.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Finder’s Keeper
Copyright © 2012 by Vivi Andrews
ISBN: 978-1-61921-217-6
Edited by Christa Desir
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: November 2012
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