Free Out of Sight by Stella Cameron Page B

knees with shock. She looked up at Sykes whose black, curly hair blew away from his intense face. He stared at her as if he saw into her mind. She felt hot at the thought that he probably could.
    “Where are you going?” Poppy asked Ward when she got her breath back.
    “Sheesh. There’s a carriage house next to the big house on St. Louis. I’ll go there. It’s mostly for guests but very comfortable.”
    He hadn’t mentioned Sonia by name. That didn’t feel right to Poppy.
    What did she know about the shock of waking up to a dead body in your house? “I’ll come and find you.”
    “Let me send a car.”
    “No, Ward, I—”
    “Dammit, Poppy, don’t be difficult. This has been a rotten day and I could use some TLC.”
    She felt unsure of herself, of what she wanted, or ought to want. “Of course you could.” Poppy looked at Sykes and knew, without his saying a word, that he was aware of every word she had exchanged with Ward. “Go and get settled,” she said.
    “Just get over here, darling.”
    She had to say it. “Poor Sonia. She had a lot of talent—”
    “And round heels,” Ward said shortly. “She played around too much and it caught up with her.”
    Poppy held her breath. Ward was shocked, and shocked people didn’t react normally. “I’m sorry it happened to her,” she said.
    “Would you just get yourself here?”
    “As soon as I can. I’ve got some things to get through.” She hung up and looked everywhere but at Sykes. But she felt him as if he had wrapped her up with him inside his clothes, next to his skin, in some kind of incredibly sexy cocoon. Or should that be, restraint?
    Her face tingled. So did most of the rest of her.
    “Poppy,” he said. “I’ve got to be friend and brother to you. I’ve got to stand in for Ben.”
    “I’ve got plenty of brothers.” She raised her chin. “I don’t have so many friends—apart from Marley and she’s a rock.”
    “Sounds as if you could have a new soul mate in Nat’s Wazoo,” Sykes said with a one-sided smile. “I think our detective is trying to lure his woman to New Orleans, what do you think?”
    “I think you’re insightful,” she said. “He loves her—a lot.”
    They stared into each other’s eyes. Poppy tightened her spine, her legs. Awareness rippled through her muscles. She couldn’t look away. While she watched him the angles of his face became more exaggerated, his upswept brows seemed darker, his eyes flared like blue gas flame and his cheekbones shone white and stark.
    Sykes’s complete absorption in her overpowered Poppy. He took a single step closer until his face was all she saw. The rest of him, his shoulders and arms, the way he tensed his core and held his belly tight, were a physical reality she felt.
    She didn’t move.
    Sykes did.
    He stroked the side of her face with the backs of his fingers so slowly time must surely have stopped, and he brought his mouth down on hers. She saw his eyes close the instant before she shut her own.
    Poppy sucked in her tummy against the shock that traveled the length of her.
    They didn’t embrace.
    Sykes moved them with their mouths, reached deep inside, nibbled her lips, ran his tongue along the soft skin just inside and over the sharp edges of her teeth.
    Breathing got more difficult. She pressed her cheek into his hand and started to urge herself against him. Still her hands hung at her sides but she stood on tiptoeand kissed him as if the kiss had waited for years just for this moment.
    I think it has. She heard Sykes speak in her mind.
    Her eyes shot open. His lashes moved, thick and dark against his skin. He looked…in pain.
    Poppy stepped back.
    “Will you promise me something?” Sykes asked.
    She couldn’t speak.
    “Don’t go to Ward Bienville. Not now. Not until we know what happened to the woman who died at his place last night.”
    She felt her eyes fill with tears. “Is that why you kissed me, to make me do what you want?”
    “Is that really what you