Free Partners in Crime by Anne Stuart Page B

frustration level was high. And if it turned out that Stephen Tremaine really had murdered her brother, he had no idea what her reaction might be.
    “We have several options open to us,” Sandy continued. “We can drop everything, hope that Tremaine never finds the missing part of the formula, and go our merry way. Or we can try to outfox him and find the rest of the formula before he does. After that it’s up to us. We could always sell it to the highest bidder ourselves...”
    “No.”
    “Just a thought. Or we can destroy it. Or just salt it away someplace until we make up our minds.”
    “Or we can torch the place.”
    Sandy shook his head. “Jane, Jane, you must curb these violent impulses. It wouldn’t do any good at all. Tremaine’s no fool—he’ll have copies of the formula.”
    “Then I guess we really have no option at all. We’ll have to find the rest of the formula before he does. That way we can blackmail him into selling it to someone we approve of, and Richard will be satisfied.”
    Richard won’t care, Sandy wanted to point out, but he tactfully controlled himself. “Personally I approve of the highest bidder, but I bow to your wishes.” He shifted on the bed, moving imperceptibly closer. Jane was so caught up in her plans that she didn’t even notice.
    “How much does Uncle Stephen know? Does he have any idea where Dick’s labs might be?”
    “I’m not sure. He and Peabody got a bit...distracted, and gentlemanly restraint forced me to stop eavesdropping.”
    Jane snorted. “I hadn’t noticed you plagued by gentlemanly restraint. Are you telling me Uncle Stephen is sleeping with Ms. Peabody?”
    “I don’t think they were sleeping.”
    Jane shook her head. “The swine.”
    Sandy shifted closer, so that his thigh pressed against hers. “Some men are,” he said innocently.
    “They are indeed. We’ll go back to Dick’s apartment,” she said decisively.
    “Now?” While the bed they were sitting on wasn’t terribly comfortable, it had the undisputed merit of being readily available.
    “Tomorrow. I went through that place with a fine-tooth comb but I might have overlooked something.”
    Sandy nodded. She smelled like flowers and pizza and soap—an undeniably erotic combination. “It would help to have a fresh look at the place.”
    “And you’re exceedingly fresh. Move your leg.”
    He didn’t. He looked at her for a long, thoughtful moment. She didn’t blink, though he could tell she wanted to, she didn’t fiddle with her blouse, though he knew she wished to hell she’d rebuttoned it. She just looked into his eyes with an I-dare-you kind of glare, and Sandy Caldicott couldn’t resist a dare.
    He shifted, smoothly, gracefully, so quickly that she didn’t have time to squirm away. In seconds she was sprawled on the bed, beneath him.
    “I didn’t know you numbered rape and assault among your crimes,” she said through gritted teeth. His face was inches away from hers, and behind the wire-rimmed glasses her dark brown eyes were blazingly angry and not the slightest bit frightened.
    “I’m not going to rape or assault you,” he said in his most reasonable voice. “I’m just going to kiss you.”
    “I don’t want to be kissed.”
    He was holding her hands down, his hips were pinning hers, and her breasts were pushing against him. “Tough. I deserve something for combat pay. Not to mention the pizza.” And he dropped his mouth down on hers.
    She tried to jerk away, but he let go of her hands and caught her jaw, holding it in place for a long, leisurely kiss. He could feel her hard little fists pounding at him, but he ignored them, lost in the sweetness of her lips. She bounced her hips, trying to throw him off, but it only aroused him more. And for all her fight, for all the anger in her hands, her mouth was soft, pliant, and opening to him.
    She was no longer beating at him. Her arms had slid around his neck, her tongue had reached out to touch his, and her body