The Paris Caper (25 page)

Her lips were soft and
warm...and reluctant. But she didn’t pull away. A reprieve? He cradled her body
and deepened the kiss. The tension in her limbs slowly seeped out and she wound
her arms around his neck, letting him take his fill of her mouth.

“My God, Jean-Marc, you
may have gotten me
pregnant
. Seems to me
you’re
the one who’s
been naughty,” she murmured when their lips parted. “I should get to spank
you.”

He swallowed and managed
a half smile. “Wouldn’t want to assault an officer of the law. That’s a federal
offense.”

“And what kind of offense
is getting your prime suspect pregnant?” she asked pointedly.

He grimaced, growing
somber. “A damn serious one.”

She held his career, as
well as any chance at a conviction for
le Revenant
, in the palm of her
hand—or the curve of her belly—and they both knew it.

He put his lips to her
temple. “You going to report me?”

She lay quietly in his
arms for so long he started making plans for what he’d do when he got kicked
off the force. Unfortunately, everything he came up with involved bringing her
and the baby along.

“I could never report you
Jean-Marc,” she said at last, surprising the hell out of him. “That wouldn’t be
fair. I seduced you, remember?”

“Which time?” he asked
sardonically. A rhetorical question. It didn’t matter. He’d screwed up.
Royally. Even if she didn’t report him, he’d have to report himself. Be removed
from the case. Let someone else arrest her so the evidence wouldn’t be tainted
by his monumental stupidity.

But the worst part was,
he didn’t regret a thing he’d done. Not a single fucking thing.

He tipped her onto her
back and canted his body over hers. He placed his hand between them, splayed
his fingers over her belly. He felt the smooth dip of her abdomen, where his
child might already be growing. And his passion bloomed. He kissed her, then
lowered himself between her thighs and slid into her heat.

She made a noise and
broke the kiss, gazing up at him uncertainly. She looked frightened, happy,
hopeful...wary...all at the same time.

“Ciara,” he said, pushing
himself deep inside her. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do what
you’re doing. Quit, and come and live with me. I have plenty for all three of
us.”

Her lips parted in
disbelief, and again surprising him, her green eyes slowly filled. Then she
tightened her arms around him and pulled him close. He couldn’t see her face,
but her breath shuddered.

“Ciara? I’m serious—”

“Don’t,” she whispered.
“You know it can never happen.”

She hooked her legs
around his hips and took him deeper still. He was acutely aware he wasn’t
sheathed, but this time it had been deliberate. He sensed she was equally
aware. Had they both gone completely crazy?

He was teetering on the
edge of...something he didn’t understand. But for the first time he had found
something more important than his job.

He wanted her with him.
And he wanted their child.

“We’ll find a way,” he
said. “But you have to turn yourself in.”

She let out a watery
laugh. “Jean-Marc, if I turn myself in I’ll be having your baby in jail,
whether or not I’m guilty.”

“
Non
. I’ll get you
the best lawyer in the country. We’ve got no evidence—”

She put her fingers over
his mouth and gave him a heartrending smile. “Shhh,” she whispered. “You
mustn’t say these things, my love. It would never work. For either of us. But I
love you even more for asking.”

His heart squeezed so
hard his chest hurt. “What if there really is a baby?”

Her head gave a tiny
shake. “There’s probably not. Wrong time of month.”

Searingly disappointed, he
buried his face in her hair, inhaled the sweet scent of her. Fought to keep his
emotions in check. He pulled out and drove back into her.

No baby would be a
good
thing. At least he could keep a modicum of dignity when he resigned from the
case. And he wouldn’t have to explain to the
Préfet
why
le Revenant
’s
baby had his DNA.

“This is so fucked up,”
he muttered.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

He thrust into her again.

“I want you with me.”

“I want to be with you,
too.”

Pulled and thrust.

“There has to be a way.”

“Maybe in another
lifetime,” she said with a moan as he scythed in deep, deep.

“Turn yourself in,” he
urged again.

“I can’t,” she panted.
“Who’ll take care of the Orphans?”

“I will,” he promised,
astonishing both of them. He paused.

She looked up at him. Met
his eyes. “And Beck?”

“I’ll keep Sofie safe. He
won’t ever get close to her.”

“Jean-Marc...what if
there’s
not
a baby?”

He gazed down at the face
of the woman who had turned his world on its head. For whom he had compromised
everything. The woman who would surely end his career and negate everything
he’d deemed important in life up until this very moment.

“Then we’ll keep trying,”
he whispered.

♥♥♥

They made love.

For the first time.

Sweet and tender, with
both laughter and tears, their lovemaking transcended anything Jean-Marc had
ever experienced. Sure, he’d had more creative sex. But never more emotionally
satisfying. It was so much better this way. It made him happy from the inside
out, clear to his toes happy.

He brushed it off when
Ciara wouldn’t be pinned down to a specific date to move in with him; he
concentrated instead on how beautiful she looked pinned down under him, calling
his name as he brought her to orgasm. He didn’t worry when she still wouldn’t
admit she was
le Revenant
, nor speak again about agreeing to turn
herself in. His only thought was that she’d agreed to have his child—if
implicitly, by allowing him to make love to her unprotected.

He was too busy falling
in love to notice those things.

Too busy being happy,
learning her body and her responses to his touch. Too busy listening to his
heart, not his head.

When she finally, hours
later, fell asleep in his arms, he was as content as a man could be. He would
think about it later—all the problems, all the obstacles they’d have to
overcome to be together. Right now there were only two things that mattered.

She was his. And he
wasn’t going to let her go.

♥♥♥

“Jean-Marc.” Ciara shook
him reluctantly. He looked so at peace. “Baby, we should go. We’ll miss our
train.”

His eyes fluttered open,
and immediately she was gifted with a blinding smile. My God, he was handsome
when he smiled. It happened all too rarely. At least when he was around her.

“
Mon ange
,” he
murmured, and reached for her. “So it wasn’t a dream.”

Guilt swirled through her
insides as he took her in his arms. He’d be a lot better off if it had been.

“That depends on what you
dreamed,” she said teasingly. Better to keep it light. Avoid the agonizing
emotion they’d shared while making love. She’d start to cry again if she gave
herself time to think about everything he’d offered her. Everything she must
turn down.

His smile widened. “It
was one hell of a dream.”

“Yeah?”

He rolled on top of her
and she felt his cock slide home.

“Oh, yeah.”

She wrapped her arms
around him. Oh, how she wished they could stay here in their satin and lace
cocoon forever!

“Did it involve a brothel
and a magic wand?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows. Wishing she really had a
magic wand. A powerful one that could change the past...and the future.

His teeth flashed white
in a fading sunbeam. “Oh, it’s magic, all right. It’s amazing the things it can
do.”

“Mmm,” she purred. “Show
me.”

So he did, and she was
able to lose herself in him for just a little while longer, lovers wrapped in
ivory satin and bathed in the last orange-gold light of day. Then, after the
moans had quieted and the kisses trickled to a stop, they rose, got dressed and
headed to the cavernous train station, where the harsh electric lights were
just coming on.

Loudspeakers blared out
delays and track changes, busy travelers bumped them with overstuffed
suitcases, porters hawked their services, and local gendarmes stood with
crossed arms scrutinizing every passenger for anything suspicious.

Back to reality.

“We shouldn’t sit
together,” she said. “You’re supposed to be tailing me. Official police
business and all.”

“Fuck that. You’re not
getting rid of me so easily.” He gave her a kiss on the nose.

She shook her head in
resignation. He was not in the mood to listen to reason. She was a thief. He
was a cop. Couldn’t he see there was no way that could ever work? No matter how
much they wanted it to?

The fact that she might
be pregnant with his baby terrified her. And thrilled her. It was too
incredible. She’d never thought about having children before. But suddenly it
felt...right.

She had a lot of thinking
to do when she got home. About her life. About her future. About the choices
she had to make.

 Could they really find a
way, as Jean-Marc insisted? Or was it all just an impossible fantasy, and her
heart destined to be broken...?

Or worse, could he be
lying?

A man he called his
friend had once betrayed him badly. Might he have learned that lesson a little
too well?

Jean-Marc was a shrewd
police officer—
un grand flic
—who’d many times admitted he’d stop at
nothing to put Ciara in jail. Could this just be a clever ruse to get her to
turn herself in? To close the case?

Could she be trusting
him, surrendering her heart to him, only to lose everything she held
dear—including him?

♥♥♥

Jean-Marc was worried
about Ciara. For the past three hours on the Paris express train, she’d been
too quiet. The closer they sped toward home, the wilder the look in her eyes
had gotten. It was a look he’d never seen there before. Panic?

He didn’t blame her. He
was a bit panicked himself.

“I could use a drink,” he
said, and got up to walk to the bar in the club car. “How about you? Anything?”

She shook her head
absently. “No thanks. But you go ahead.”

He hesitated for a
second, watching her turn her gaze unseeingly out the window into the blackness
beyond.

Did she already regret
what they’d done? Was she planning to run out and get a morning-after pill so
she didn’t have to deal with the consequences? Or was she possibly considering
his plea to turn herself in?

Hell, was
he
regretting what he’d done? Was he mad to think she would reform just to be with
him? And what if she really was pregnant...?

Jesus. What
had
he
done?

Doubts assailed
him...until he remembered what it had been like last night. How close he’d felt
to her. How he’d felt for the first time ever that someone had truly gotten to
the core of him. Understood what he was all about, the hidden insecurities, the
desperate need to be loved unconditionally, and had instinctively met every
need. Given of herself as no woman ever had before.

She’d said she loved him.
He just hoped she loved him enough to take it all the way.

He found a seat at the
bar and ordered a bourbon. He didn’t usually go for the hard stuff, but he’d
acquired a taste for good shot of Kentucky during the week-long profiling
seminar he’d attended at Quantico last year in the States. He tossed it back
and ordered another. Why not? It wasn’t every day a man celebrated blowing up
his own career.

He’d just relaxed and
gotten to the point where he was mentally placing baby furniture in his sleek,
modern bachelor pad when his cell phone rang. A look at his watch told him it
was nearly ten pm. A glance outside told him they must be on the outskirts of
Paris.

“Lacroix,” he answered.

“Thank God,” came
Pierre’s excited voice. “Where the hell are you? Why haven’t you answered your
phone?”

He sighed. Was one
uninterrupted afternoon of bliss really too much to ask? “I was busy.”

“Never mind.” Pierre
rushed on. “We got a tip. I know where she is. And we’ve got her, mec. She’s as
good as ours.”

Alarm blazed through
Jean-Marc, raising the hairs on the nape of his neck. “What in hell are you
talking about?”

“
Le Revenant, mon ami
.
I’m on the way to arrest her right now.”

♥♥♥

“Jean-Marc? Are you still
there?”

“Wait.”

Jean-Marc vaulted from
his seat at the bar and stalked to the rear of the car where he whipped open
the door and stepped into the observation deck at the end of the train. Two
young, starry-eyed lovers stood in each other’s arms, watching the scenery whiz
by.

“Move it,” Jean-Marc
ordered brusquely, opening his jacket to reveal his weapon and flashing his
DCPJ
carte
. When he was alone, he hissed into the phone, “Pierre,
there’s something I need to explain.”

“Later,
mon ami
.
Right now you need to meet me at the
Gare du Lyon
. Make it fast. The
train from Marseille arrives in ten minutes. She’s on it.”

“I know, damn it. I’m
with her. But—”

“Fucking perfect. Don’t
let her out of your sight. We—”

“Pierre! Would you stop
for a minute and—”

“We’re home free,
mec
.
She was down there pulling another job. And this time she’s got the goods on
her.”

Stunned, Jean-Marc reeled
back against the hard wall of the train car. “
What
?”

“A ruby necklace and
matching earrings. Worth a mint. Stolen late last night from a yacht moored off
one of those trendy new restaurants on the bay.”