Partners in Crime by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online Page A

involved in a situation rife with such lies and complexity that it simply boggled his mind.
    He’d had more than a few bad moments that night, starting with the locked file cabinets and ending with her crack about pop psychologists. That was exactly what Beverly did for a living, and her conversation was dotted with phrases like “meaningful relationships” and “getting in touch with yourself.” He’d always been revolted by her psycho-babble, and then to find he was doing it himself...
    He drained the whiskey, stretching out on the lumpy mattress that was even worse than the one in his previous room. He considered turning on the TV—Princeton was in range of both New York and Philadelphia and even without cable there was always something on. The Princeton Pike Sleep-a-While Motel’s only cable channel was an x-rated one. Clearly the place was misnamed—here people didn’t usually rent rooms just to sleep.
    Dirty movies were the last thing Sandy needed. He could still feel Jane’s light, strong body beneath his, taste the surprising enthusiasm of her soft mouth. He was beginning to think he’d been mistaken in chasing after Amazons for all these years. He was rapidly growing partial to small brunettes, a Jane who wasn’t very plain after all.
    He cursed out loud, a nice, rounded obscenity he’d picked up from a teenage nephew, and was about to say it again when he heard a rapping on his wall.
    “Is something wrong?” Jane’s voice was muffled but unmistakable. He wondered what she was wearing, and he groaned.
    “It’s nothing.” He sounded admirably calm. “I just stubbed my toe.”
    “Oh. Good night, then. Pleasant dreams.”
    Pleasant dreams, he thought cynically. Who would be innocent enough to wish a stranger pleasant dreams? Only a Midwestern librarian who was totally ignorant of how she affected him. He was going to have dreams, all right. He was going to dream about that slender, warm body of hers wrapped around his, he was going to dream about that soft, lovely mouth and those surprisingly generous breasts of hers. And he was going to have nightmares about what she was going to say when she found out who he really was.
    He turned over on his stomach, shoved his face into the foam pillow that smelled of stale cigarette smoke and moaned. It was going to be a long night.
    *
    It was ten thirty-five in the morning when Jane finally surfaced. She blinked sleepily at her watch, then sat bolt upright, jumped from the bed and raced to the window. Pushing the sickly green curtains out of the way, she saw in relief that the MGB was still in place. He hadn’t taken off in the middle of night, never to be heard from again.
    Not that it wouldn’t have been a good thing, she thought as she rushed through her shower. If Jimmy the Stoolie were gone she’d be on her own, and sooner or later she’d have to give up in defeat. With a professional by her side the possibilities were endless, and so were the risks.
    She had her morning ablutions down to a science, one that usually lasted seven and a half minutes. Today, in a hurry, it took her twelve, making sure the minimal mascara and liner were just right, even bothering with a slash of tinted lip gloss and a pinch of color on her pale cheeks. She braided her wet hair, tossing it over her shoulder, and grimaced at her reflection. She wasn’t doing it for him, she reminded herself. The opinion of her partner in crime meant absolutely nothing to her. No, she did it for her own flagging sense of self-esteem.
    By five of eleven there was still no sound from next door, no knock on her door, no jangling telephone. She considered her options. She could bang on the wall, but that seemed a little intimate. She wouldn’t have done it last night, but that curse floating through the thin walls had a desperate edge to it, and she’d been afraid he’d hurt himself.
    She could walk out into the bright sunlight and knock on his door. But what if he were still asleep? She