“Todd! Call an ambulance! Steph, get the nurse up here right now. Everyone else, out!”
Tightening her arm around Cruz’s waist, Mia tried to steer him over to the closest chair. Had he been in a car accident?
“Were you shot?” She met the eyes of the lead detective. There’d been no attempts on her life since she’d returned, but that didn’t mean the threat wasn’t still out there. His face was a hard, expressionless mask. His feet seemed planted where he stood. “Not me. I’m not injured. A woman—” He shuddered, tightening his arms around her like steel bands.
The detective hung up his cell phone. “I believe your stepmother was shot outside the building. They have the perp in custody. I’ll be in touch.” He strode from the room.
“Come and sit down,” she told Cruz gently.
Oblivious to everyone around them, Cruz cupped her face, seemingly drinking in her features with his eyes as he whispered in a thick, agonized voice, “I thought it was you, Mia. I thought you were dead.”
She turned into him, fitting herself against him. “I’m fi—”
He made a wild sound in the back of his throat, his chest vibrating against her breasts as his mouth cut off her words.
A lie. She might not be bloody, but Mia was far from fine. Missing him had left a hole in her heart impossible to fill with work, playing detective, or wrestling her company back from the bad guys.
Vaguely she heard Todd say with his usual calm, authority, “Everybody out. Come on, move it, people.”
Cruz lifted his head; his dark eyes glittered as he looked at her mouth. “Where?”
“Upstairs.” Not releasing her hold on him, she angled them toward the door. “This way.”
Arms wrapped around each other, she led him from the conference room. Todd stood near the elevator. Behind him were at least two dozen titillated employees watching them avidly.
Todd put a hand on Mia’s arm as they passed. “Still need the medics?”
She gave Cruz an inquiring look. He shook his head. “I told you, I wasn’t hurt. Is this Todd?” At Mia’s nod, and without waiting for an introduction or making small talk, he said grimly, “I think Mia’s—Amelia’s—stepmother is splattered down on Market Street. She was wearing a prosthetic to make her look—” He shuddered. “You might want to have your cop friends check it out.”
“They are,” Todd told him, his eyes slewing to Amelia. “Why do you look as though you feel sorry for the conniving bitch?” He pitched his voice for their ears only. “She hired the hit men, so in the end she paid for her own death. She brought it on herself.”
“I know. But still—poor Candice. Not that I wish death and splattering on anyone,” Mia said grimly, her arm tightening around Cruz’s waist. “What a damn irony that impersonating me again is what got her killed. That’s incredibly sick and sad at the same time.”
“It brings closure,” Todd pointed out.
Cruz’s arm locked around her. “There isn’t closure with everything.” He looked at her. “Yet.” He kissed her on top of her head and nudged her toward the door. Her assistant ran over and pressed the button to open the doors on the private elevator. The doors slid open silently, revealing plush carpet, soft lighting, and mirrored walls. With a sappy smile, Stephanie dashed out of the way as they stepped into the car. Mia slapped her hand on the touch keypad and the doors slid closed.
Cruz walked her backward, shoved her against the mirrored back wall. “You, Mia mine, are not like anyone I’ve ever met and I won’t lose you again.” He kissed her as the elevator slowly rose. His kiss was hard, starving, desperate. The sensual, mint-flavored invasion detonated an explosion of lust and intense longing inside her. She’d missed this—missed him.
Looming over her, his face shadowy, he kissed her again.
Panting, Mia took each side of his bloody shirtfront and ripped. Ripping damp fabric was no easy task, but she was strongly motivated. Buttons popped, some pinging on the wall as she bunched what was still buttoned and drew it up the ridges of his belly.
Cruz yanked off the short jacket, then found the long decorative gold zipper running down the back of the red sheath and peeled it over her shoulders.
The dress dropped to pool around her feet.
His eyes flared as he looked down at the sheer wisp of red fabric covering her breasts. Nothing was hidden. Her nipples, hard and pink, jutted out, eager for his touch. His lips twitched with amusement. “This is how you dress under your conservative business clothes?”
“I was thinking about you when I dressed this morning. I’ve dressed for you every day since I saw you at the house.” Forever ago. Tangling her fingers in his hair, Mia drew his mouth back to hers as he glided his hand beneath the gossamer-thin fabric of her demi-bra. The scorching contact of his hand on her breast made her gasp. Her nipples, painfully hard, welcomed the rough friction and rasp of his callused fingers.