interesting view of the lobby and the busy bar she was yet to visit. The lobby café was only open for breakfast and lunch. Those empty tables below reminded Allison of her favorite black and white photograph by Alfred Stieglitz featuring an outside eating area viewed from above.
Ahead, through the floor to ceiling glass walls of the Fitness Room she saw three towel-draped males trying to outdo each other on treadmills, their towels bouncing jauntily as they jogged.
She grinned. Men.
Allison walked straight to a vacant treadmill and climbed on. "This is just what I need."
"She's just what I need," one of the men murmured, elbowing his companion.
Carlo glared at the trio. The ensuing respectful silence lasted until he selected a rowing machine with an unimpeded view through the glass walls and started the machine.
Always the cop. Does this man ever relax?
Allison decided to forget all about alpha heroes and drug deals gone sour and for the first time in twenty-four hours totally relaxed as she set a fast pace and began to jog.
The men nodded to them, pocketed their cell phones, and strolled out the door. She stopped jogging, planning to move to a stationary bike, but hesitated, her gaze following the buff men out the door.
Deep in conversation, the men strolled along the skywalk where an unusual movement snagged Allison's attention.
A dark-skinned face bobbed into view, disappeared, and bobbed up again.
Allison's heart clenched.
"Carlo."
He kept right on rowing.
She saw the face of a man shorter than the half-wall enclosing the Skywalk again.
Nothing so unusual about him. A lot of people are short.
Most short people would not be so determined to see over the Skywalk wall, though.
Wonder what he's searching for?
It could be the perp looking for me.
Heart pounding, she tugged Carlo's arm. "There's a suspicious-looking man coming and we're sitting ducks. Let's get out of here."
Instantly going into cop mode, Carlo stopped rowing, drew his gun, released the safety, and carefully swept their surroundings in the time it took her to draw a shaky breath.
As fascinating as Carlo was to watch in action, she wanted him to grab her hand and run, not stay and fight.
"Too late," he admitted. "He's too close. We need to hide."
Before she fully absorbed his warning, he wrapped an arm around her waist and gently shoved her to the floor behind a stack of exercise mats.
Then he flopped on top of her, his muscular body shielding hers.
His gun appeared in his free hand. The arm he'd wrapped around her waist slid lower as he tightened his grip on her and whispered, "Don't move. We don't dare even breathe for the next few minutes."
She didn't need to. Her heart had stopped its rapid beating the moment Carlo's broad, sweaty chest pressed her shoulders to the floor.
Carefully squirming, she tried to get comfortable on the cold tile.
Carlo quietly growled, "Don't. Move."
How can I not, sandwiched between two hundred pounds of hot male flesh and a hard floor?
The hand he'd locked so protectively at the apex of her thighs caressed her.
Igniting the fires of Hell in me.
"Be still."
I can't. Your touch burns me.
"The perp just stepped inside," Carlo whispered, cupping her tighter while he readied his gun.
Quivering, she bit her cheek to prevent the escape of an ecstatic purr.
If she gave away their location Carlo's tender caresses would end.
Her ecstasy, too, and perhaps their lives.
Slowly, she closed her eyes. She no longer needed to see. She wanted to enjoy the fire Carlo's wandering hand had kindled deep in her core—a flame that hadn't burned for far too long.
"He's gone," Carlo whispered, releasing her after a final caress.
No, no. Not now. It's been too long since anyone held me close.
All the undercover officers in the building couldn't have held her still as a sensual release overtook Allison. Her entire body shook. She squeezed her eyes shut, clamped her jaw to keep her passionate moans from escaping, and
Ahead, through the floor to ceiling glass walls of the Fitness Room she saw three towel-draped males trying to outdo each other on treadmills, their towels bouncing jauntily as they jogged.
She grinned. Men.
Allison walked straight to a vacant treadmill and climbed on. "This is just what I need."
"She's just what I need," one of the men murmured, elbowing his companion.
Carlo glared at the trio. The ensuing respectful silence lasted until he selected a rowing machine with an unimpeded view through the glass walls and started the machine.
Always the cop. Does this man ever relax?
Allison decided to forget all about alpha heroes and drug deals gone sour and for the first time in twenty-four hours totally relaxed as she set a fast pace and began to jog.
The men nodded to them, pocketed their cell phones, and strolled out the door. She stopped jogging, planning to move to a stationary bike, but hesitated, her gaze following the buff men out the door.
Deep in conversation, the men strolled along the skywalk where an unusual movement snagged Allison's attention.
A dark-skinned face bobbed into view, disappeared, and bobbed up again.
Allison's heart clenched.
"Carlo."
He kept right on rowing.
She saw the face of a man shorter than the half-wall enclosing the Skywalk again.
Nothing so unusual about him. A lot of people are short.
Most short people would not be so determined to see over the Skywalk wall, though.
Wonder what he's searching for?
It could be the perp looking for me.
Heart pounding, she tugged Carlo's arm. "There's a suspicious-looking man coming and we're sitting ducks. Let's get out of here."
Instantly going into cop mode, Carlo stopped rowing, drew his gun, released the safety, and carefully swept their surroundings in the time it took her to draw a shaky breath.
As fascinating as Carlo was to watch in action, she wanted him to grab her hand and run, not stay and fight.
"Too late," he admitted. "He's too close. We need to hide."
Before she fully absorbed his warning, he wrapped an arm around her waist and gently shoved her to the floor behind a stack of exercise mats.
Then he flopped on top of her, his muscular body shielding hers.
His gun appeared in his free hand. The arm he'd wrapped around her waist slid lower as he tightened his grip on her and whispered, "Don't move. We don't dare even breathe for the next few minutes."
She didn't need to. Her heart had stopped its rapid beating the moment Carlo's broad, sweaty chest pressed her shoulders to the floor.
Carefully squirming, she tried to get comfortable on the cold tile.
Carlo quietly growled, "Don't. Move."
How can I not, sandwiched between two hundred pounds of hot male flesh and a hard floor?
The hand he'd locked so protectively at the apex of her thighs caressed her.
Igniting the fires of Hell in me.
"Be still."
I can't. Your touch burns me.
"The perp just stepped inside," Carlo whispered, cupping her tighter while he readied his gun.
Quivering, she bit her cheek to prevent the escape of an ecstatic purr.
If she gave away their location Carlo's tender caresses would end.
Her ecstasy, too, and perhaps their lives.
Slowly, she closed her eyes. She no longer needed to see. She wanted to enjoy the fire Carlo's wandering hand had kindled deep in her core—a flame that hadn't burned for far too long.
"He's gone," Carlo whispered, releasing her after a final caress.
No, no. Not now. It's been too long since anyone held me close.
All the undercover officers in the building couldn't have held her still as a sensual release overtook Allison. Her entire body shook. She squeezed her eyes shut, clamped her jaw to keep her passionate moans from escaping, and
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