still.”
He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and forced her to look up, surprised to find how warm she was to the touch. Or maybe he was just cold from sitting and waiting, inert for so long. “No sudden movements,” he warned, softening his words with a smile. “My shoulder is finally back to normal.”
“Maybe you should keep your hands to yourself, then.” The words carried a hint of a threat, but she didn’t pull away. Before his brain—or his instincts—could think better of it, Asprey used the wide pad of his thumb to wipe at her cheek. Her face grew red, but he couldn’t tell if it was from his touch or whatever dye was in what she called blush but was clearly paint.
He hoped it was his touch—God, how he hoped that.
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he was finished, reluctantly drawing away. “Not that I don’t love the company, but you’re kind of blowing my cover.”
“Your cover sucks—it’s even worse than the trench coat.”
“And yet my question remains.”
She tucked strands of hair and feathers behind one ear. “Graff told me to come get you.”
That sounded relatively…sane, especially considering he’d left Graff pacing circles around Tiffany, promises of fratricide spewing from his lips. To say he wasn’t exactly delighted with the way Asprey handled things was an understatement. “Oh? You two have a nice chat?”
“Let’s just say I think you exaggerated your family’s willingness to agree to this arrangement of ours.” Her gaze flicked over him, stopping briefly at his crotch before finally settling on his face. “It makes me wonder what else you might have been overselling.”
The challenge of it was too much to let slide, stakeouts and the folly of public displays of affection notwithstanding. Letting his binoculars fall to the ground, he wrapped one arm around her, the other gripping the back of her neck, his thumb tilting her chin to meet his. It was a short kiss but a good one, designed to show her that of all the things Asprey bragged about— this was not something he failed to deliver.
He pulled away abruptly, before she could do more than yield underneath him, the soft parting of lips all the sign he needed to know his point had been made.
But when he took in her face, flushed but just as impassive as ever, he was forced to concede that when it came to sharing a kiss with this woman, he was the one who stood on shaky ground. “Nothing?”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “I never said you couldn’t kiss.”
Damn. Poppy took this round.
A blur of movement out of the corner of Asprey’s eye pulled his attention away. The man in a dark suit entering the apartment building—he looked familiar in that general business man sort of way, but it was hard to place him. Definitely worth looking into later.
Poppy noticed and shifted her attention with him. “Do you need to stick around a bit longer? I can go.”
“I thought you said Graff sent you to get me.”
“He did, but I’d happily go back there and tell him he’s not some king of old who can order his peasants around. If you think for one second that man can intimidate me, you have no idea who you’re up against.”
He tried for a joke: “Those prison matrons must be pretty tough.” But the words fell flat of his goal. She’d only been out four months. Too soon?
“Among other things,” she said, shifting so that she faced him. Her brows drew together. “Look—you and your family obviously have a different approach to this than I do. I don’t appraise jewelry or own a multimillion dollar company or have huge computer systems set up in my home office. I don’t plan big heists, and I don’t rely on shotguns to get results. It’s just me and the con. It always has been.”
“This is about me wearing vests, isn’t it?”
She laughed and flashed her crooked smile, eyes opening wide as though her own amusement caught her off guard. “You have freakishly good
He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and forced her to look up, surprised to find how warm she was to the touch. Or maybe he was just cold from sitting and waiting, inert for so long. “No sudden movements,” he warned, softening his words with a smile. “My shoulder is finally back to normal.”
“Maybe you should keep your hands to yourself, then.” The words carried a hint of a threat, but she didn’t pull away. Before his brain—or his instincts—could think better of it, Asprey used the wide pad of his thumb to wipe at her cheek. Her face grew red, but he couldn’t tell if it was from his touch or whatever dye was in what she called blush but was clearly paint.
He hoped it was his touch—God, how he hoped that.
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he was finished, reluctantly drawing away. “Not that I don’t love the company, but you’re kind of blowing my cover.”
“Your cover sucks—it’s even worse than the trench coat.”
“And yet my question remains.”
She tucked strands of hair and feathers behind one ear. “Graff told me to come get you.”
That sounded relatively…sane, especially considering he’d left Graff pacing circles around Tiffany, promises of fratricide spewing from his lips. To say he wasn’t exactly delighted with the way Asprey handled things was an understatement. “Oh? You two have a nice chat?”
“Let’s just say I think you exaggerated your family’s willingness to agree to this arrangement of ours.” Her gaze flicked over him, stopping briefly at his crotch before finally settling on his face. “It makes me wonder what else you might have been overselling.”
The challenge of it was too much to let slide, stakeouts and the folly of public displays of affection notwithstanding. Letting his binoculars fall to the ground, he wrapped one arm around her, the other gripping the back of her neck, his thumb tilting her chin to meet his. It was a short kiss but a good one, designed to show her that of all the things Asprey bragged about— this was not something he failed to deliver.
He pulled away abruptly, before she could do more than yield underneath him, the soft parting of lips all the sign he needed to know his point had been made.
But when he took in her face, flushed but just as impassive as ever, he was forced to concede that when it came to sharing a kiss with this woman, he was the one who stood on shaky ground. “Nothing?”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “I never said you couldn’t kiss.”
Damn. Poppy took this round.
A blur of movement out of the corner of Asprey’s eye pulled his attention away. The man in a dark suit entering the apartment building—he looked familiar in that general business man sort of way, but it was hard to place him. Definitely worth looking into later.
Poppy noticed and shifted her attention with him. “Do you need to stick around a bit longer? I can go.”
“I thought you said Graff sent you to get me.”
“He did, but I’d happily go back there and tell him he’s not some king of old who can order his peasants around. If you think for one second that man can intimidate me, you have no idea who you’re up against.”
He tried for a joke: “Those prison matrons must be pretty tough.” But the words fell flat of his goal. She’d only been out four months. Too soon?
“Among other things,” she said, shifting so that she faced him. Her brows drew together. “Look—you and your family obviously have a different approach to this than I do. I don’t appraise jewelry or own a multimillion dollar company or have huge computer systems set up in my home office. I don’t plan big heists, and I don’t rely on shotguns to get results. It’s just me and the con. It always has been.”
“This is about me wearing vests, isn’t it?”
She laughed and flashed her crooked smile, eyes opening wide as though her own amusement caught her off guard. “You have freakishly good
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