Caught in the Act. Lori Foster

only perplexed Josh more.

      Mick again peeked out the window, and to his surprise, he saw her turn at the corner, cross the street and start back toward him. There was no more jiggle from her front than there’d been from her back. When she was just opposite the restaurant, she slowed and finally stopped. She rested her hands on her knees while she breathed deeply, heedless of the light rain and his avid attention.

      When she straightened again, she stretched her arms high. Her shirt rose, showing a very sweet belly that Zack no doubt would have adored. Captivated, Mick continued to stare at her while a slow heat stirred deep inside him. She walked into the jewelry store located directly across from the restaurant, and Mick made up his mind.

      Pushing aside his plate, he stood. So many times over the past few weeks he’d considered following her, initiating a conversation, introducing himself. He didn’t want to rush her, but he’d dreamed about her twice, so he knew his fascination wasn’t about to go away. Now seemed like as good a time as any to make his move. “I’ll be back.”

      Josh and Zack stared at him, blank faced. Mick was aware of a thread of urgency vibrating through his blood. It had been like that from the second he first saw her, and every moment after when he watched her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, couldn’t tell anyone outright what it was about her that appealed to him, what pushed him over the edge. He only knew he wanted her. Bad.

      As he dodged cars and puddles in the roadway, and muddy, slick spots along the curb, he wondered—for about the hundredth time—if she’d been in the area awhile, or if she’d only recently moved in when he first saw her. He’d been buried in work for the past two months, putting in seventeen-hour days, so it was possible she’d been close by for longer than two weeks.

      He could get another assignment any day, so he had to take advantage of the opportunity now.

      He hoped like hell she was single. Since first seeing her, he’d studied her closely. There weren’t any rings on her fingers, but then he knew women who didn’t wear them, especially while jogging. Not once in the two weeks of his awareness had he seen her with anyone, definitely not a man, but that, too, could be a fluke.

      Mick turned up the collar on his windbreaker and darted across the sidewalk, trying to keep as dry as possible. He didn’t have to look behind him to know both Josh and Zack would be craning their necks, their noses pressed to the window, spying on him. It was totally unlike him to chase a woman.

      It was totally unlike him to be interested enough to bother chasing.

      Thunder boomed, echoing over the street and rattling windows just as he stepped through the jewelry store’s ornate front door. Air-conditioning hit him, chilling his damp skin. He brushed his hair back from his forehead and looked around. Glass cases were everywhere, some large, some smaller to showcase a certain piece, and there, in the far corner, she stood. Dressed in her running wear she looked very out of place, conspicuous and unique in the upscale, glitzy store. She also looked sexy as the original sin with her skin dewy from the drizzle and sweat, her cheeks flushed from exertion, her hair as much out of the ponytail as in, wet and sleek.

      Damn, he thought, annoyed with himself. She wasn’t that pretty, was in fact kind of plain. She wore no makeup, but her lashes and brows were as dark as her hair. Her nails were short, clean. She had a nice body, strong and sleek, fine boned, but not overly curved, not typically sexy.

      Not the type of body to make him sweat at the sight of her.

      She didn’t give out signals or flirt or even pay much attention to men, not that he’d noticed.

      His eyes widened. God, maybe she didn’t even like men. That’d be a kicker, one he wouldn’t, couldn’t accept. Not when the mere sight of her turned him on. He didn’t just want her; he felt as if he had to have her, just as he had to sleep or eat. It was the damnedest feeling, and he wasn’t happy with it or himself.

      She didn’t appear interested in any particular item as she moseyed from case to case, peering inside, then shaking her head and moving on. For the moment, Mick was content to watch her. He slipped his hands into his jeans pockets, then quickly pulled them out again when he realized that negligent pose might expose the weapon in the waistband holster at his back. Being off duty, he didn’t need the gun, but he always carried it.

      In this day and age, his cover wouldn’t have been believable without it. Drug dealers, prostitutes, gamblers…they all expected you to be armed, and if you weren’t, you were considered an idiot, or worse.

      Usually, even when conditions didn’t call for a weapon, he managed to smuggle in the Smith & Wesson 9 mm in an ankle holster. There were times, though, when he had to go without, leaving him feeling naked, and those were the times when he got most tense, when the adrenaline rush was all but blinding. He always wanted a woman afterward, a way to release all that pent-up energy.

      He wanted a woman now.

      He wanted her.

      Moving closer, watching her, he was amazed that she didn’t feel his attention, so acute that it had him half-hard again with expectation. It had always been his experience that blatant staring was felt like a stroke of ice. But then, she was a civilian, and he’d already noted the first day he saw her how heedless she could be of her surroundings. It amazed him sometimes that people could survive with so little caution.

      The door chimed behind Mick and more people entered. Two men, dressed much like Mick in jeans and T-shirts, wearing sneakers, one in a ball cap. They appeared to be in their mid-thirties, clean, middle-class. As a cop, Mick automatically took in everyone and everything. He’d already noted the two salesladies, the older couple looking at cocktail rings for an anniversary. He picked up on actions and quiet dialogue and expressions.

      Caution was as basic to him as breathing. And because he wasn’t a civilian, wasn’t oblivious, he immediately detected the sudden charge in the air despite the nonthreatening scene and apparently ordinary people. It had come in like the wind with the men, and Mick didn’t like it worth a damn. He had a keen sixth sense, and he trusted it more than he trusted appearances.

      The woman looked up, around, made brief eye contact with the two men who’d entered, then again with Mick. Their gazes locked and held for an instant, an instant that made his gut clench with awareness. She gave him a small smile, a simple, friendly smile that nonetheless heightened his tension, before she turned away again.

      Senses on alert, Mick followed her, not too close, in no way obvious, but keeping her within reach. Because the shop was small and crowded with displays, the air thick and humid from the rain outside, he could detect her scent. It was earthy and rich, warm woman, damp skin and clean female sweat. His heart punched hard, a little fast; his sex thickened. He’d been too long without a woman, too long without any sexual relief. Sometimes being a contrary bastard was a real pain.

      Her wet running shoes squeaked on the ceramic tile floor as she browsed, appearing to study the shop, not just the wares but the structure, the setup. Mick frowned as he watched her, further intrigued and a little distracted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the men reach into his jacket pocket, and a silent alarm screamed inside Mick’s head.

      He jerked around, but not quickly enough.

      “Everyone stay still and calm.” The guy waved a SIG Sauer .45 around the room with menacing intent. “No one panic or do anything stupid,” he said with a sneer, “and I won’t have to kill anyone.”

      Damn, damn, damn. Mick took a quick, inconspicuous glance around. The elderly woman, clinging to her husband, looked ready to faint, while the salespeople stood motionless, frozen in horror. His movements so slight that no one paid him any mind, Mick edged closer to the woman he’d followed. She stared at the gunman, her blue eyes darker now with fascination, but he saw no real fear.

      “We’ll do our business,” the guy in the ball cap said, “and then leave and no one will be hurt.”

      Mick didn’t buy it for a second; the words sounded far too rehearsed, far from sincere. And there was an anticipatory expression on the man’s