The way she could picture Malcolm, all sweaty and bulked up from working out when he answered the door last night, was like she’d stolen a vision. She didn’t steal—often. Rarely anymore. The armband was the exception. Nowadays, she’d take small, useless tokens when she wanted to remember and hold something tightly to her heart. A few weeks ago, she’d gone with Liz Whitney to the coast to visit Emily. A girls’ trip. Marie had stolen a seashell from the beach because the whole time she’d had her eye on a pretty mosaic and also had Malcolm’s glaring gaze stuck in her head.
Her first girls’ weekend—ever.
Marie smiled. She never wanted to lose the feeling of being a part of something good.
He’d checked up on her, though, when she got back. He never said as much, but she saw the look in his eyes when he’d come into her office. His gaze had moved around the room, as if looking for something in particular.
Not that she would have been stupid enough to put anything she’d acquired on display.
“We’re here, miss,” the cab driver said, startling her from her thoughts.
She grabbed her bag from the floor in front of her, took the money sitting right on top, and handed it to her driver. “Thank you.”
Her door opened. “Good morning.” Malcolm stood over her in his usual black jeans and flannel, with his black leather jacket covering his beefy build. His hair was tied up at the back of his neck—neat and out of the way.
Scooting to the edge of the seat, she took his hand and unfolded herself from the car. When the trunk popped open, Malcolm stepped away to empty it.
He was acting…nice. She shouldn’t be surprised, but since her visit last night, everything about Malcolm had been a surprise.
She’d expected a neat, super-organized existence. Utilitarian.
What she found, she wanted to dive into…maybe clean a little, but mostly just get comfortable in. The oversized leather couch. That huge recliner in the corner. She’d seen at least three different blankets—crocheted or knitted—with the richest, darkest reds and golds. Made her wonder where it all came from. An ex-girlfriend? Something he’d brought from his previous life?
But he was like her, alone. No family.
In Qatar, where he’d leaned on her and they’d actually worked as a team, she’d thought they could possibly get over the hurdle of how she’d become employed by Hawk Elite in the first place. And it had given her hope she could stay with the company on a more permanent basis.
Of course, that was then…
Now, she wasn’t so sure. Malcolm had done a one-eighty since Qatar, as if being back in Raleigh reminded him of why he didn’t like her.
“Is this all you have?”
Her small duffel, a messenger bag with her laptop inside, and her purse. “What more do I need?”
“I don’t know. Most women I know over-pack. You aren’t planning to acquire things when we get there, are you?”
“Hey,” she said, blowing off the hurtful jab—which she deserved—and then laughed. She had her pride, and he might try to goad her, but she wouldn’t allow it to bug her. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”
He didn’t even smile, and she wished he would. He did have a nice smile. Instead, he offered a grunt. She rolled her eyes. “I have to check my duffel.”
He frowned, looking at her.
“I’m carrying.” She went to the check-in counter, claimed her sidearm, and sent the duffel on the conveyer belt. When she turned, he was waiting for her, leaning near the doors. She stopped to look at him for a moment. Hawt. Hawt. Hawt. She didn’t like to admit to being shallow, but there were moments. His dark hair. Those broad shoulders. Great legs.
He looked up as if he could sense her gaze and pierced her with his brown eyes, and then started for the security checkpoint. She followed, feeling even more like a tagalong than she had when she was eight and trying to keep up with her uncle at the Ocean City casinos.
With a glance at her watch, she slowed. Plenty of time. She pulled her identification and her boarding pass out of her purse and got in line.
“Fuck,” Malcolm said, and turned to her. No. He turned away from someone else. But holy moly, when he got close and hunched his shoulders—really broad shoulders!—he invaded. Total invasion of her space. He made her head swim, damn it.
She straightened and looked up into panicked eyes. “What?”
“Hey,” someone from behind him called out. Malcolm’s eyes closed shut on a little bit of agony. Marie peeked over his shoulder at the pretty dark-haired woman.
Marie reached for his arm and gripped it. An ex? A stalker? She would do anything for him. And the realization made something in her heart turn over. “Do you want me to take care of her?” she whispered.
He stifled a laugh, said, “Please don’t be mad,” and kissed her.
He swallowed any objection she might have by pressing his lips onto hers and wrapping his arms around her. Her stomach dropped, and desire flared to life deep inside her.
The footsteps slowed and then faded.
The kiss stopped as quickly as it had begun.
“Fuck.”
Shock raced through her as she stared at him with his contrite little-boy look. He’d kissed her.
“Are you okay?” he asked as concern came into those warm eyes. “Fu—” He stopped himself. “You have been kissed before, haven’t you?”
The horror in his voice shook her out of the incapacitated state. “Of course,” she answered, sounding way too defensive and way too breathless. “Who the hell was that?”
Malcolm glanced over his shoulder and relaxed, obviously in the clear. “My ex.”
“That’s a lot of faking for an ex-girlfriend. Is she a stalker type?”
“Wife.”
“What?” God, her brain must be failing her. She swore he said wife.
“Ex-wife.”
“Wow.” She stared again, taking in his almost sheepish look on his handsome face. “You were married?”
“Yeah. Long time ago.”
“Not long enough, apparently.”
They moved forward in line a few steps.
“Ten fucking years ago.”
“Wow. You’ve been hiding from an ex for ten years? What? Were you married at sixteen?”
He cleared his throat. “Eighteen.”
“Wow.”
“Do you think you could stop saying that?” He clenched his jaw, completely uncomfortable with where the conversation had turned. It surprised her when he continued. “I was young, getting deployed, and she offered what I thought would be stability and a family.”
They moved forward in line and set their carry-on bags on the table to go through the scanners.
She could see him that young and lonely. And her heart got a mushy feeling inside, one proving her a sucker. “Why do you hide from her?”
“I would say I don’t. I didn’t expect to see her. She caught me off guard. And why the fuck would she approach me?”
“’Cause you’re hot, and she probably wishes things hadn’t ended.”
His movement through the framed detector stopped and he turned to stare at her.
Heat rose on her neck.
“No,” he answered.
She went through next and caused the detector to beep. “Dang it. I’ve got nothing.”
But she was waved aside to be wanded by the tenacious guard.
Malcolm stood off to the side, putting his shoes back on, and watching with keen eyes. His serious eyes. Geez, her heart pounded a little harder, knowing he was watching, and she did her best to ignore him.
When the wand beeped at her waist, she lifted her shirt. “Belt.”
Dumb. She hadn’t been thinking when she put it on this morning. The guard cleared her and she took account of her stuff. “Ready,” she said.
At the gate, Malcolm stood off to the side, with his back against a wall, scanning the area. Sometimes he gave off a definitively IT vibe. Other times, he was pure predator.
She wasn’t one hundred percent sure which façade she was more attracted to at this point, but she appreciated them both—equally.
***
How had he not noticed before?
All she did was talk. All. The. Time.
Probably the result of years of stealing. Maybe she was trying to distract him. He patted his pocket and felt the square outline of his wallet.
“And then I graduated from high school. Top of my class, mind you.” Her hands moved as she talked. “Of course, Uncle Bert immediately moved us to Ocean City. Maryland. He’d finished a job—”
“Heist,” he said to rile her up, and hid a smile when she huffed. “So you never went to college?”
At her silence, he looked over. She was biting the lip he’d kissed. The kiss that had short-circuited his brain for a moment. The electrical charge made him forget Heather and the reason for kissing her in the first place. He never would have kissed her if he’d known just how much he was going to like it.
Because he’d really liked it.
This was only a problem because there was no way in hell he was going anywhere with another lying, cheating, thieving female.
Never again.
She hummed then ignored his question, which was an answer in itself.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I like my life. And I don’t steal anymore—much. The only times I do are for really good reasons.”
He lifted a brow and saw a blush rise on her neck.
“Honest,” she said, raising three fingers in the scout’s honor way. Malcolm covered her hand with his. “Blasphemy, Marie. You should be more careful.” He pointed up and shook his head. “Lightning. And we’re in a plane, too.”
She laughed. “Sorry. You were a boy scout?”
“Fuck no. But I’m one hundred percent sure you weren’t one either.”
She snorted a laugh, quieted, and turned to him, tucking a foot under her rear in the seat. “I like the way you kiss. You surprised me, but in the end, it worked out, because I like it.”
Their time in Qatar flashed through his brain. Why was it that every time they were lip-locked, it was instigated by some emergency? Actually, the elevator hadn’t exactly been an emergency… “I’m sorry for—”
“Don’t be,” she interrupted.
He nodded, understanding he’d injured her pride. “Do you normally have such a strong reaction to kissing men?” he teased, even as every cell in his body wanted an honest answer. Fool.
The blush grew, giving her face a pretty glow. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
A funny, possessive feeling grew deep in his chest. Those words. They were like a promise, and he loved the thought that she would kiss him and not tell a single soul because it meant something. He scowled, shoving the thoughts away, and leaned back into his seat. “We’re going to land soon.” He closed his eyes, putting the talk of kissing to rest. Just because they had chemistry, it didn’t mean he had to react.
Her quiet sigh sent a brush of air over his cheek, and then she sat back and lifted her seat into the upright position as the plane landed.
They worked together, but everyone at Hawk Elite knew there wasn’t a hard and fast rule about coworkers hooking up. John had Emily now, even if she only worked on contract. And, of course, Hawk and Stacy were the perfect example of how good could come from working together…and being together.
Malcolm wasn’t sure, though.
His sex drive wasn’t really a good gauge of how well a relationship was going to end up—obviously.
The plane touched down a few minutes later, and before it stopped, Marie was up and getting her bag out of the overhead compartment. She tossed his to him as well.
“Thanks.”
She turned to wait in line then slowly moved forward with everyone else.
He sighed, rolled his eyes, and waited for the older woman across the way to go out first.
“Women,” she said in raspy voice, a twinkle in her eye. “I bet she keeps you in line.”
“Oh.” Malcolm laughed and shrugged. “No. We’re not together.”
“Could have fooled me,” she said, nudging him in the side as they were stopped again. “Oh, well, you’re a muscly one, aren’t you?” She winked at him. “Is it true what they say?”
Wary, he looked around and found the woman’s younger companion watching him with amusement.
“What?” he asked.
“The more muscle you have, the smaller your—”
“Jackie! Hush,” the companion said, grinning sheepishly. “I’m so sorry. She’s usually better behaved.”
“Am not,” the woman said, frowning up at him. “What good would that do?”
Malcolm’s gaze found Marie ahead of him. He’d had what he thought was a well-behaved woman before, and she’d skinned him alive. Now he wanted this woman, and she was as far from well behaved as he’d known. Her secrets worried him. But with her, he felt more comfortable than he had with any woman in a long time.
“I don’t know, ma’am.”