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another mugging.”
    “Yeah, right. We should go.” God only knew that if he started kissing her again, a tornado could whirl up around them and he wouldn’t notice until they’d landed in Oz.
    He left his arm around her the rest of the way home, whether or not she wanted the protection. She didn’t demur, but stayed tucked under his wing, now and then leaning her head on his shoulder and letting out a very quiet sigh.
    He remained hyperalert to every sound and motion up and down the street. His body thrummed with excess energy, but he kept that under wraps as best as he could. Strange how the surging endorphins produced by the theft attempt and their astonishing kisses were so much alike. He suspected that something had been kick-started inside him. And he was damned if he’d go back, even if that were possible.
    When they arrived at their brownstone, he took charge with the keys and luggage. “I’m going to collapse,” Marissa announced at her apartment door, forestalling him even before he attempted to get inside.
    He tried not to let it bother him that she was so certain about ending their experiment that she’d given him not even the smallest opening to delay. “Let me check the place out,” he said, sliding past her without waiting for permission. What the hell. He turned on lights, glancing into the bath and bedroom, even her closet. Every room was in its usual state—topsy-turvy. Housekeeping was not one of Marissa’s talents.
    “Find anything?” she called in a tone that said he was being overprotective.
    “Hold on.” He swept aside a lace curtain and tested the window that opened onto the fire escape off the bedroom. More of the lace was draped over the bed. The faded rose wallpaper, white iron bed, scattered clothes, shoes and books gave the bedroom the look of an overturned Victorian wastebasket.
    “It pays to be cautious,” he said, leaving the doors open behind him. “You’ve been gone for three days.”
    “Is that all?” She blinked at her living room as if it were a street person’s cardboard box. Her shoulders were slumped. “I thought it was longer.”
    Marissa rarely drooped. Jamie wanted to bust Paul for doing that to her, but he had to keep it cool or she’d know how deep his feelings truly ran. “You’re done in.”
    She took one look at his face and moved away, masking the rebuff by lifting her arms and rubbing at the back of her neck. Avoiding looking at him again.
    “I’ll be right back,” he said.
    He returned a minute later to find her curled up in her comfy armchair, her head tipping over. He dropped her cat into her lap. She said, “Oh-hh, Harry,” and clutched the beloved pet to her chest so gratefully that he couldn’t stay irked by her wordless withdrawal.
    “Thank you for taking care of my kitty while I was gone,” she said, practically purring herself as she rubbed cheeks with the blue-eyed Angora. They were a pair—pampered, elegant, aloof, but affectionate under the right circumstances. “You’re too good to us.”
    Too good? Jamie shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t touch her.
    Too bad.

    THREE A.M. on the fire escape outside of the apartment of Marissa Suarez, and Allard was huddled against the cold drip of a misty rain. The shallow warmth of the day had dissipated from the building’s stones hours ago. He huffed a breath into his turned-up collar to warm his face. Patience and precision were a thief’s stock in trade. Acting rashly was never wise.
    A droplet fell off the tip of his nose. His mouth puckered. Resorting to an attempted snatch on the street had been a foolish mistake. He’d been seduced by the couple’s distraction into thinking he could slip the amulet from the bag before they realized what was happening.
    Flimsy as it was, the plan had almost worked. The alluring White Star had been at his fingertips when Marissa’s boyfriend had torn the bag away.
    A switchblade had waited in Allard’s pocket, but he’d chosen to