Thieves In The Night by Tara Janzen Page B

to a stop under the canopy of the StoneTree Lodge. Elise hadn’t come through with a sports car; she was waiting for Roger to do that.
    Chantal kept the car in gear, the engine idling. No more regrets, she promised herself even as her throat tightened.
    “I’m going to need some help. Set the brake and throw her in neutral,” he commanded softly.
    What did he think—that this was easy for her? She jerked the shift into neutral and put on the emergency brake with her foot. Instantly guilt engulfed her. He said he needed help, not more anger. She looked over at him. He was stretched out on the other side of the car, his head lounging back over the seat, his legs spread and looking as if they didn’t have an ounce of energy left.
    She’d been treating him as though he weren’t wounded, and he was. “Should I have taken you to the medical center, Jaz?” Concern hushed her voice, and she automatically leaned toward him. “Are you hurting?”
    “I’m hurting, all right.” He rolled his head sideways and captured her gaze. Like slow-moving lava, his gray eyes traveled over the contours of her face, and his voice lowered to a raspy drawl. “Hurting for you, lady. Real bad.”
    Before she could react, his fingers curled around a handful of soft fur and drew her into a hard, burning kiss. His mouth devoured hers, his tongue plunging deep and taking her breath away. It lasted a few seconds—it lasted forever—until he released her and got out of the car.
    Jaz stood for a moment in the open door, feeling the wind on his face, the pounding of his heart, and the painful ache of leaving her. There was only one way to make this work.
    He half turned, and ducked his head back inside. Her hair had fallen down completely, tumbling around her face like a cloud of gold. Her eyes were wide and soft, veiled with longing, telling him everything he needed to know.
    “Hold that thought, babe.” You belong to me. “I’ll be back.” To get what’s mine.
    * * *
     
    Chantal wandered through the rest of the afternoon, torn between bittersweet memories and a languid sense of urgency she couldn’t seem to kick into gear. Jaz was gone, but that didn’t mean she could put her life on hold. She had to finish what she’d started the night before.
    She knelt in front of her hope chest and closed her eyes. The tumblers rolled—right, left, right—but she missed. She took a deep breath and tried again, keeping her eyes closed. She didn’t know the combination; she’d always relied on her fingers to tell her. Another miss and she crossed her arms over the top of the chest and rested her chin on her hands.
    Jaz had said he was coming back. When? She didn’t have a clue. Why? The answer flowed through her veins, filling her with anticipation and apprehension. She’d never felt before what she felt with him, a sense of utter inevitability. He wanted her. He was going to have her . . . if he came back. If he did, she was going to lose her heart.
    Liar. She buried her face in the cowl neck of her dress. Lord, she wished that word would quit jumping out of her subconscious, even if it was the truth. Her heart was already lost. She’d done two stupid things the night before: stolen a necklace for her father and fallen in love with a stranger, a magical stranger who had saved her life and left her. The motives had been honorable for one; they were unfathomable for the other. Maybe it was infatuation.
    Liar. “I heard you the first time,” she muttered into the soft angora brushing her lips. She was losing her mind. It could only be love, which didn’t solve anything.
    He’d scaled one of her secrets, but not the worst by far. Nothing could compare with her guilt for leaving Paul, hurt and bleeding, on the roof of the Dubois villa—unless it was her shame for being there in the first place. Not even Elise knew exactly what had happened that night.
    Chantal had been sixteen, and working with the absolute confidence that only the very