Her Knight to Remember Read online

  Exactly none.

  Not that she’d been neglected. The opposite, really. She’d been pampered and sheltered and protected, even when it wasn’t in her nature to hide behind someone. No, her nature was to come out fists swinging. “I think we should—”

  “Stay here, stay down,” he said, nudging her to the floor. He placed his hand over hers and lifted it to her mouth. “Keep the shirt over your face.”

  So much for her leading. Fine. She could share the power, if she had to for now.

  She just didn’t want him to get used to it.

  It wasn’t until he vanished that she realized the smoke had followed them, and that suddenly she couldn’t see more than a few feet. “Hello?” she whispered, squinting, but no one answered.

  He’d left her.

  She was alone.

  Keep trouble at bay.

  “Amelia?” Annie whipped her head to the right, then the left. Through the filtering smoke she would have sworn she’d just seen Amelia standing there, her silver hair neatly coiled on top of her head, her wire-rimmed glasses slipping down her nose, her satchel firmly at her side.

  But that couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. Amelia was with Lili at a museum opening. And yet it had seemed so real, right down to Amelia’s intense, all-seeing gaze.

  Annie peered harder into the growing smoke. If Amelia was doing something magical, it wouldn’t be the first time. Lili, Natalia and Annie had long ago come to terms with one thing. Amelia was…different. Very different. “Hello?”

  Of course, there was no answer.

  But thinking about Amelia made her just a tad homesick, not that she’d admit it to anyone. She longed for Nat, who would be absolutely no help.

  She must be inhaling too much smoke. Must be near passing out. How infuriating. She never passed out. Fainting was for sissies, and no one had ever accused her of being a sissy.

  If she passed out and ended up in a hospital in this dress, someone was going to have to die.

  “Hey.”

  At the low, husky voice she blinked. “I don’t want to die here.”

  “That makes two of us.” His face was blurry through the smoke, but even so, he had such a way of looking at her. Like no one else ever had before. “Jimmy set a fire to smoke us out, I’m sure of it. He’s a known pyromaniac.”

  “He’s trying to kill us,” she whispered, suddenly sad.

  “He’s trying to kill me.” He hunkered before her, touched her face. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

  Annie’s heart did a stupid little leap at the brave, confident statement. Taken, Annie. He’s taken. “If we get out of here, I’ll never complain about this dress again,” she said. “I’ll wear it and smile through the entire wedding if I have to glue my lips into place.”

  “Uh…” His gaze ran over her body. “You do remember you ripped half of it off, right?”

  Oh. Yeah. Mostly she just remembered him ripping off his own shirt. That had been nice. She felt a little funny thinking about it. A little light-headed. “Well, the dress does look better now.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  She felt his hand on her face. A big, warm, slightly calloused hand, and without thinking she turned her cheek into the palm and closed her eyes. Sighed. Wondered if she started coughing again would he rip off his pants this time. That would be nice. “Hey, cop man.”

  “Yes, Pink?”

  She didn’t open her eyes, just concentrated on the feel of his hand on her. “I thought I saw Amelia. From Grunberg. She’s my fairy godmother. You know, like Cinderella had? Only she doesn’t sing.”

  “Annie?”

  “What would my old nanny be doing here?”

  “Ah, hell,” he muttered. Then he put his hands, those wonderful hands of his, on her shoulders and gently shook. “Come on, baby, snap out of it. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Baby. He’d called her baby. It made her smile dreamily. “I’ll be your baby,” she said. “If you call off the wedding.”

  “Come.” He hoisted her up into his arms, which were deliciously corded with strength.

  “Come?” She sighed against the delicious warmth of his bare chest. “I don’t know about that.” She sighed again and set her head on his very wide, very lovely shoulder. “I should tell you, I can’t seem to have an orgasm with a man.”

  He made a rough sound, and for a moment went still.

  She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, needing to know the truth from a man’s perspective. “Do you think sex is overrated?”

  He choked. His hands tightened on her, and since one was on her bare thigh, and the other on her ribs just beneath her breasts, it caused an interesting reaction within her own body.

  “What?” he asked a bit unevenly.

  “Sex.” She put her nose to his shoulder because he smelled good. “I want to know if it’s as overrated as I think it is.”

  “You think sex is…overrated?”

  “Um…” Suddenly, with his hands causing such an interesting reaction, she couldn’t be sure. “Put me down, I’m feeling better now. I can help—” She wriggled, trying to get loose, but he merely tightened his grip.

  “Don’t,” he demanded, staring down at the bodice of her dress, reminding her that she wasn’t exactly sewn in, and that any little unplanned movement could free a nipple without warning.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “It’d help if you didn’t speak or move.”

  Yes. She could do that. Only because she felt dizzy and nauseous. In order not to stare at his bare chest—possibly the most distracting sight she’d ever seen—she tipped her head up. That’s when she saw the corner loft. “There’s one more floor.”

  Just as she said it, a sound came from the exact location they’d just been. The elevator shaft.

  Their faces jerked toward each other. His eyes were the color of the darkest of dark chocolate. Her very favorite flavor. “I’m not going to die in this dress,” she said.

  He squeezed her gently. “Nor me in this tux.”

  “The loft?”

  “The loft.”

  He set her down. She let him lead, because after all, it had been her idea. And if she had her heart in her throat, wondering if she’d feel the unspeakable pain of a bullet, she could try to distance herself by staring at his butt as they silently made their way to the loft.

  Another woman owned that butt, she reminded herself.

  They made it to the stairs, ducking and dodging through the rows of boxes. The problem became not the threat behind them, but the condition of the stairs and loft itself. Archaic was too kind a word. Given the heavy layer of dust and spider webs lining everything in sight, whatever was in the boxes up there on the small, rather thin-looking floor had been there a good long time.

  Annie put her hand on the wooden banister that was more splinters than handrail. The stairs didn’t look any better off, and she wondered if it would even hold their weight. “Good thing I skipped breakfast.”

  “It’ll hold. It’s holding all those boxes.”

  Good point. She wished she believed it. “So up we go then.”

  “That’s right.” He touched her arm. “You’re doing great. We’ll get out of here yet, okay? Together.”

  Together.

  He was acknowledging her. Respecting her.

  It was entirely possibly every single bone in her body melted right then and there, because never, in her rather adventurous life, had a man really respected her as an equal.

  And he was getting married. Well, she’d go home and lick her wounds over the unexpected and startlingly real attraction she had for someone else’s husband when the wedding was good and over.

  First they had to survive. So up the stairs she went, carefully, wondering if he was watching her butt like she’d watched his. Just in case, she swung her hips, getting so into it that she was at the top of the stairs before she realized her cop hadn’t followed her at all.

  He was gone, vanished back into the smoke