Fugitive Heart - By Bonnie Dee Page 0,58

close to that trim little body. “So. Your place is walking distance from here.”

“That way.” She nodded toward the east then looked at him with questioning eyes. “Want to join me for breakfast?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Food was the last thing on his mind, but he wasn’t going to let Ames out of his sight. Besides, her invitation seemed to be about more than breakfast.

They strolled along the sidewalk, past several storefronts, behind the windows of which Nick could feel curious eyes watching them. Then they turned onto a side street and left the “shopping district” behind. Leafy branches shaded their path. Big old houses with wide front porches sprawled on generous green lawns.

“Nice neighborhood,” he said.

“Mine’s just an apartment. Maizie Jones converted her house to several apartments and, boy, you should’ve heard the neighbors call to arms at the zoning meeting. But Maizie had sway with the board, so her request made it through.”

Nick smiled at the small-town politics, actually not so different from city wards, where those with connections got what they wanted.

“And here we are.” Ames turned up the pathway to another Craftsman. Plants hung from the eaves of the porch and the upper windows regarded them like sleepy eyes. She trotted up the stairs, which had been added to one side—no wonder the neighbors had complained—and reached under a flowerpot for the door key.

“Left my purse at your house,” she explained as she unlocked. “Although I suppose locking at all is pointless when the key’s so easy to find.”

“I thought people in the Midwest didn’t lock up at all.”

“Not so much, but I figured under the circumstances…” She smiled and pushed the sticking door open with a shove of her shoulder. He’d picked her up here, but hadn’t come in. He could imagine what her apartment would look like—warm colors, inviting furniture, lots of throw pillows, a safe nest to roost in.

The door opened right into the living room, no hallway or foyer. Clearly some walls had been taken out to turn what had once been bedrooms into a living room and kitchenette. The awkwardly laid-out space had a homey vibe that reflected its owner, from the yellowish hue of the walls to the cotton curtains at the windows. The furniture appeared squashy and comfortable, and the area rug that marked the living area was worn bare in spots. Bookshelves and end tables overflowed with stuff. It was clear Ames was a bit of a packrat and needed more space. Like a house in the country.

“Let’s see. I hope I have coffee…and cereal. And milk to put on the cereal.” Ames headed into the kitchen and peered hopefully into the fridge. “Unfortunately, I was going to go shopping after our lunch out. Was that only yesterday? How do you feel about stale Pop-Tarts?”

Nick followed her into the kitchen and closed the door on the nearly empty fridge. “I’m not really hungry. Are you?”

Ames slumped against the appliance. She seemed pale; her eyes looked enormous. She appeared cute and vulnerable, and he wanted to kiss away the shadows under her eyes. “No. More like exhausted but kind of wired too. I feel like I’m buzzing like a power line.”

“Adrenaline. Takes a while to work it out of your system.”

She tipped her head back to look up at him. God, she was a tiny thing. Before he met her, he’d never known he had a protective streak. Or a mile-wide yen for feisty females. A slow smile showed the dimple in her cheek, and suddenly the yen to protect her turned into something even more primitive.

“Got any ideas about ways to unwind?” She squinted and wrinkled her nose. “Aw, geez. You must think I’m some kind of nympho. Trust me, I’m not usually like this, but around you…”

He smiled and slid his hands around her waist. “Me too. Guess it’s just chemistry.”

“Or heightened emotions from being in a life-or-death situation.”

“Like last night. But I think we should experiment. You know, find out if we still enjoy ourselves. Because I really, really”—he kissed his way along her jaw with each really—“really enjoyed you.” She made a breathy sound deep in her throat. He stroked the sweet curve of her hip. “Yeah. I remember you said something about long, slow lovemaking. I’d like that more than breakfast.” He bent and plucked at her soft lips with little nibbling kisses that quickly bloomed into something fuller and deeper.

“Mm.” Ames pulled away but not far. “I’d kill for a shower. We can clean