It wasn’t normal. At all.
I looped an arm over her shoulders and leaned back in the seat, pulling her with me. HE’S STARING. I focused on the words, putting effort behind them and trying to imagine them floating through the air to her. YOU NEED TO RELAX.
She stiffened and then sagged into me, her head resting on my chest, a deliberate act rather than one of true ease. I could still feel the steel rod of fear running through her. “I can’t fail, Zane,” she whispered. “If we can’t find her, then nothing changes.”
“I know, it’s okay. We’ll find her, I promise.” A promise I had no business making, but what else was I going to say?
I tugged her hat into place. The wisps of hair that had escaped, now more than before, formed a halo of white-blond that framed her face, drawing even more attention to her unusual coloring.
Brushing the strands off her forehead, I tried to smooth them into place beneath her cap. But they refused to cooperate, curling and kinking in absurdly illogical directions, tangling around my fingers.
I winced in empathy and attempted to free myself without hurting her. “Sorry. I was just trying to help, but I…I think it has a mind of its own.”
A startled laugh escaped her. “You wouldn’t believe how many hours I used to spend trying to get it to look…right.” She made a face. “Never quite managed it.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice gruff. I felt like the biggest doofus saying it, but she deserved to hear it. I just wasn’t used to the whole giving or receiving compliments; I hadn’t had much practice with it.
She looked up at me. “Thank you.” She reached out and touched my chin carefully, the tips of her fingers catching on the stubble. Then she stopped, turning her head to the side, her gaze going distant. I recognized the look. She was hearing thoughts, most likely those of our driver.
When she turned to face me, her expression had shifted to something more calculating. “You’re right. He is curious. Perhaps we should give him a reason to turn his attention elsewhere,” she said under her breath.
She raised herself up on her knees and pressed her mouth against mine, her tongue sliding over my lower lip.
Whoa. In the cab? With the driver right there…Oh, who cared?
I caught hold of Ariane’s waist, holding her steady against the motion of the car and pulling her closer.
She framed my face with her hands as she kissed me, and her breasts brushed against my chest in a way that sent shock waves through me.
I could feel the edge of her hip beneath my grip on her waist and, listening to temptation whispering in my brain, I slipped my thumb beneath the edge of her jeans.
Her breath caught, and she shifted abruptly, moving to sit in my lap. Which made things so much better and so much, um, harder.
I moved away from her mouth to trail kisses down the side of her neck. And she tipped her head back to let me. The skin of her throat was so soft, and she smelled so good.
God, if we could just have twenty minutes alone…
The cabbie cleared his throat loudly—we were getting a lot of that lately—and Ariane pulled away.
“Almost there. You’re missing all the good stuff.” He gave an awkward bark of laughter. “Or maybe not, eh?”
“The park is nearby?” she asked. Then she slid off my lap and onto the seat, as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing faster than it had been, both of which sent an odd burst of pride through me.
I let out a slow breath, not able to make the shift as quickly.
The cabbie pulled up to a sidewalk, across the street from signs for the Art Institute. “Here. Millennium Park.” He gestured grandly at an expansive stretch of manicured grass and gardens.
Ariane sat forward in her seat. “And where is the Bean from here?”
“Oh, for that, you’ll need to head north and a little west, away from the lake.…”
I tuned out the driver’s directions, concentrating on calming the blood pounding through the various parts of my body, which was made all the more difficult because I could still feel Ariane against my side and smell the fresh lemony scent that would forever in my mind be associated with her. I’d probably have a hard-on every time I smelled dishwashing detergent for the rest of my life.
As I stared out the windshield, trying to focus on something, anything else, a cab that had pulled to a stop ahead of us caught my attention. Five girls were piling out, laughing and tripping over each other in their giddiness. One girl, in particular, stood out. Her hair, some shade between brown and blond, was pulled up in a ponytail, and she wore a green shirt. One that might have been the shade used by Michigan State.
“Ari.” I nudged her. “Look.”
She straightened up and tilted her head to see around the driver.
“Is that her?” I asked under my breath.
Moving swiftly, Ariane shoved her door open. “Yes.”