Page 20 of Stolen for Keeps
A pause. Then, suspicion sharpened her voice. “I thought hedidn’thave a brother!” Like she was grilling me in an interrogation room before deciding whether I was trustworthy.
“Well, he does,” I said, suppressing a laugh. “Name’s Noah. Noah Lucas.”
Another pause. Then?—
“All right, Noah Lucas. Get in here and help me.”
I tentatively pushed the flap open again, stepping inside as if I were entering a crime scene.
“I’m covered up,” she said, still hiding behind the mirror. “You can open your eyes. I promise you won’t need therapy after.”
I managed to giggle at the comment, silently. I’d already seen way too much, but for Dylan’s sake, at least I wasn’t about to get a second helping.
“Okay,” I said, stepping closer.
Dylan chose that moment to babble excitedly. He so knew something was up.
“Shh, calm down, buddy,” I muttered, bouncing him slightly.
I peeked around the standing mirror.
She’d wrapped a scarf around herself, covering just enough to be decent. But my eyes still caught on her defined, bare shoulders.
Then she turned, gathering her hair with both hands. I’d noticed it the first time I saw her. It was dark enough to pass for black, but up close, the strands shimmered midnight espresso, rich and glossy against the pale sweep of her back.
“The zipper’s stuck,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “I didn’t want to force it and risk ruining the dress.”
Then she glanced over her shoulder, meeting my gaze.
“Could you?” she asked.
My neck locked up.
She smelled clean and fresh. It’s not perfume and not lotion, just something naturally intoxicating that sent a warning straight to my brain.
I cleared my throat while adjusting Dylan in the carrier. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it,” I replied. I just had to remember how to breathe while I did.
I inched closer. One wrong move might send me straight to hell.
The dress was a masterpiece of silk, hugging her body like it had been poured on. She’d managed to get the halter neck over her head. I knew it was a halter because one of my exes had owned a thousand of these things. The bodice twisted to her left, and the zipper was stuck halfway.
And now my hands were supposed to touch it. Touch her.
Get it together, Lucas.
Leaning in, I studied the zipper close enough to see the problem, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.
“There’s a thread caught behind the zipper head,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.
“Figured as much.”
“Stay still.”
I slid my fingers to the tiny snag, carefully working the thread free. The silk shifted beneath my fingers, rising and falling with her breath.
Dylan babbled again, cheering me on.
She laughed. “That baby is so cute. How old is he?”
