I wasn’t exactly 100% serious about the whole “breaking in” thing, but one look at Hallie, her eyes lit up in anticipation, and I know there’s no going back.

Damn does this woman look hot when she’s ready for action.

“What do you say?” I grin. “Let’s see how good your cat burglar skills are.”

“You’re a bad, bad influence, Maximillian Carlisle.”

“That isn’t a no.”

Hallie shakes her head. “Well, if we’re going to do this, we can’t stand around casing the place,” she says, ever the sensible one. Even when it comes to vaguely illegal activity. “This way.”

We slink down the alley beside the museum building, out of sight from the street.

“I don’t see any security cameras . . .” Hallie sounds relieved.

“Probably because nobody would be bored, or crazy, enough to try and steal a couple of old dioramas and an antique printing press.” I check the row of narrow windows, set about six feet off the ground. “This is our best way in.” I reach up and test the first window, then the next. Those two don’t budge. But the third one, about halfway down the building, squeaks open at my nudge. I ease the pane as far up as I can. The room on the other side is dark. It’s going to be a tight fit, but I didn’t make it through reporting in five different war zones without developing a knack for getting out of tight spaces.

“Ladies first?” I offer.

“Right,” Hallie says. “Just throw me into the line of fire ahead of you.”

“I really hope no one’s going to be firing on us in there,” I say with a grin. “But if you want to try and boost me first . . .”

“Good point.”

I offer her my cupped hands. She steps up and I heave her toward the window.

Hallie scrambles through the opening headfirst—giving me an excellent view of her shapely rear in those jeans.

“You better not be staring at my ass right now.”

Can this woman read my mind?

“No comment,” I reply, grinning.

“Hurumpg.” She makes a noise, before hauling herself all the way through. There’s the sound of a clatter, and then a thud.

“You OK?”

“Yup!” her reply comes. “But this miniature model of a farm . . . not so much.”

I wince. “I’ll leave a donation.”

I grab the ledge and pull myself up after her, glad at least that all those pull-ups with my sadistic trainer were good for something. It’s a tight squeeze through the narrow window, but I manage to wriggle through.

“Look out!”

Hallie’s warning comes a moment too late. I drop heavily to the ground inside—and send us both tumbling to the floor.

“OOF.”

We roll, until she’s laying beneath me. Eyes bright, laughing smile, looking like temptation there in the darkness.

Fuck, this girl is beautiful.

I kiss her, hard, and Hallie responds immediately with a little noise that gets me hard in an instant. Her arms wrap around me, her fingers tracing over the back of my neck. A surge of lust bolts through me, and damn if I don’t want to strip her naked and take her right here until she’s screaming my name—

In the middle of the county museum. Where we just broke in.

OK, maybe not.

I pull back with a reluctant groan. Hallie sits up, her cheeks deliciously flushed. “I . . . guess we should find that clue?”

“And fast. Before I ravish you against this”—I check the label—“nineteenth century agriculture exhibit. Those folks knew how to throw down.”

She laughs, and it’s such a joyful sound, I can’t even focus on anything else. How am I supposed to care about Gramps’s ridiculous treasure hunt when I’ve got a woman who looks like that looking at me like that? But somehow when I offer my hand to help her off the floor, I don’t immediately drag her back into my arms.

“Come on.” Hallie looks around. “We need to be quick, before anyone comes.”

“I disagree on principle,” I joke, sliding my hand over her ass. “But OK.”

She bats my hand away, giggling, and we start to search the museum. We find plenty of dioramas and antique coins, but no printing press. “No sign here,” I say, disappointed. Then I hear it. The sound of footsteps, approaching from down the hall.

“Crapwaffle!” Hallie whisper-exclaims. “Who is that?”

I tug her through the nearest doorway and around one of the display cases showing off a great selection of what appear to be . . . doorknobs? Sure.

We squeeze into the space behind the case. Her breath spills hot against my neck, and I try to focus.

Possible arrest vs. taking her right here.

Fuck, I’m getting hard again.

The footsteps tap closer. A flashlight beam flicks through the room we’re in. I peer around the case and make out the shape of a security guard, just some kid in an oversize uniform, with his headphones on.

As his footsteps fade away, I exhale in relief. Hallie sighs too, her chest rising and falling against mine, too luscious to resist.

I bend down and capture her mouth. Her lips part under mine, her tongue teasing mine in a sensual dance. I rock against her. She lets out a little moan, and then clamps her mouth shut, her eyes widening.

Right. Security guards and driving Hallie out of her mind with pleasure aren’t going to be a good mix. Damn it.

“Come on,” I whisper, checking that the coast is clear. “It’s got to be down here, we’ve checked everywhere else.”

When we get to the next doorway, Hallie clutches my hand tightly. She points. An old printing press is sitting against the far wall. And sticking out from one corner, I spot a linen envelope.

Victory!

Muffled voices reach my ears at the same moment. Shit, have my cousins picked up the trail? I grab the envelope, pull out the paper inside, and snap a picture of the clue with my phone in the light from the window. There’s no time to read it right now.

Hallie slinks back to the doorway as I return the envelope to its hiding place—maybe tucking it a little farther in than it was when we got here. I don’t have to be a perfect sportsman, right? There should be some advantage to getting here first. Then I join her by the hall.

Artie’s voice is ringing out louder now. “We demand entry. An important piece of our family’s property is located in this museum. It’s imperative that we examine it right away.”

Whoever he’s yelling at says something in response that I can’t make out.

“Now, look here,” Artie starts up again.

Hallie whispers. “Well, I guess we’re not going out the front door.”

“Back the way we came?”

She nods, and we skulk back through to the room we came in through. This time, Hallie doesn’t hesitate before taking my boost and climbing up to the window. She pokes her head outside. “The coast is clear. Here I go.”

She’s more confident the second time, just seems to slither right out with a quick gasp when she hits the ground. I pull myself up after her and—

Huh.

I push myself through to the waist, but I can’t seem to maneuver myself the rest of the way through. I grit my teeth, squirming. Hallie’s eyebrows leap up. “Are you trapped in there?” she says, sounding like she’s holding back another giggle.

I glower at her. “Just give me a second.”

Hallie’s eyes suddenly widen. “Try harder! Someone’s coming!”

I can hear footsteps approaching—outside, this time. Just down the alley . . .

Shit.

I shove at the ledge, trying to level myself through, but it’s too tight.

Hallie pales. “They’re getting closer!”

I can only imagine what will happen if someone finds us like this. “Sorry, officer, just some light criminal trespass, no hard feelings.” And if the press get wind of it, and Franklin’s madcap treasure hunt . . .

Let’s just say my low profile won’t last long.

Dammit!

Hallie reaches up and tries to yank me through. “You had to have extra fries,” she hisses.

“Hey!” I protest. “There’s not a spare ounce of fat on me.”

“Tell that to the window.”

She lets go, and looks wildly around. “Wait here,” she orders me, then disappears around the side of the building.

As if I’m going anywhere in a hurry.

For a moment, I think she’s gone and abandoned me to face the cruel arm of the law on my own. Then her voice carries back to me, sweet as sugar.

“Hi!” she exclaims loudly. “Do you work here at the museum?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Perfect. I have some questions, and you look like a man who has all the answers.”

She’s stalling. Yes! I should have known she’d have my back. Somehow, Hallie has been supporting me since the moment this weird adventure began. From scornful relatives, to small-town security. How did I manage without her?

I wriggle faster as the guy chuckles. “What do you want to know?”

“Let me show you. There was something I saw . . . I know the museum isn’t open, but I’m just dying to find out more. I’m a local history buff, and I heard you have an amazing collection of reproduction farm equipment!”

Their voices fade as she leads him away—in the other direction.

Is there nothing this woman can’t do?

I heave and yank and finally manage to haul myself free. This time there’s no Hallie to break my fall. I hit the ground and stagger to my feet.

I guess you really can get too many muscles.

I’m brushing myself down when Hallie reappears. “Come on! He’s gone to get me some pamphlets. Let’s get out of here!”

We duck around the building before doubling back to the sidewalk. Parked out front are a couple of black sedans that stick out like sore thumbs.

“Your cousins’ rides, I’m guessing.” Hallie eyes them as I call up the taxi service. Her lips curl into another smile.

“You know,” she says, “we could slow them down even more . . .”

“Uh oh. I’m getting to know that look,” I tease. “It’s your devious master plan kind of look.”

Hallie glances around, but the street is empty. Just then, Artie’s voice comes filtering out of the building.

“What do you mean, ‘no’? I’ll have your fucking job for this!”

“And there goes the last of my conscience,” Hallie says. She leans over and unscrews one of the tire caps. Air starts hissing out.

I follow her lead. In a minute, all the tires are deflating.

“Hey!”

An angry cry sounds behind us. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Just in time, our cab pulls up. “Come on!” I grab Hallie, and pile her in the back. “Go! GO!” I yell to the driver, who’s clearly been playing way too much GTA because he screeches away in a cloud of burning rubber.

“Come back!” Brad yells behind us, but they’re too late.

We’re already gone.