Always a Thief - Kay Hooper [68]
For a moment he concentrated on his cooking, expertly flipping the golden pancakes. Then, softly, he said, “We were both reckless.”
Having realized this discussion would take place, Morgan was ready for it and responded calmly. “If you mean birth control, it's all right. My doctor put me on the pill a couple of years ago for an irregular cycle.”
He looked at her, very direct. “You don't have to worry about anything else.”
“Neither do you.” Leaning back against the counter, she conjured a rather regretful smile. “It's become a dangerous world, hasn't it? Even in the bedroom.”
Quinn leaned over and kissed her, gently this time. “It always was, sweetheart. The only difference is that now the dangers aren't so obvious—and too often tend to be potentially fatal.”
“Yeah. Sometimes it's the pits being a grown-up,” Morgan observed. But then, being a naturally optimistic woman, her absent attention fixed on him as he turned the pancakes onto two plates, and her gaze wandered over his broad shoulders, down his back to his lean waist, and then to his narrow hips and long legs. He looked awfully good in jeans, she reflected. Only half aware of making the sound, she sighed. “Then again . . . sometimes it's not bad at all.”
Her thoughts must have been obvious from her voice, because he smiled without looking at her and murmured, “You're a wicked woman, Morgana.”
Somewhat dryly, she said, “No, just human.” Then she refilled their coffee cups and helped him transfer the food to her small kitchen table.
It wasn't until later, when they were finished with the meal and had cleaned up the kitchen, that Morgan somewhat cautiously turned their casual conversation in a more serious direction. “Alex . . . you aren't going to tell me who Nightshade is?”
He had followed her into the living room, and when she asked the question he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “We've talked about this, Morgana. If you came face-to- face with a man you knew was Nightshade, could you trust yourself not to react to that knowledge?”
“I suppose not.” She looked up at him steadily. “But I would like to know how badly I screwed things up by climbing that fire escape last night.”
He hesitated only an instant. “Hardly at all—if I can persuade Nightshade that you were going up there to visit Alex Brandon, with no idea I'm also Quinn.”
“Why would I think I could find Alex on a rooftop somewhere around midnight?”
“Help me think of a reason, will you? The last thing I want is for Nightshade to start wondering if you know I'm Quinn. Because, once he does that, he might also wonder why a woman of well-known honesty and integrity such as yourself would be keeping quiet about that.”
“And smell a trap?”
“I would, in his place.”
Morgan bit her bottom lip for a moment, then eased back away from him and went to sit down—in the chair rather than on the couch. She had trouble thinking clearly when he touched her, and she wanted to think about this.
Quinn sat down at the end of the couch nearest her chair, watching her gravely.
“Alex . . . he knows you're Quinn. I mean, he knows that Alex Brandon is Quinn.” There was a faint question in her voice, even though she was sure she was right about this.
“He knows.”
“Then I don't understand. He knows you're Quinn, and you know he's Nightshade—and you're both wanted by the police in several countries. You're both eyeing Mysteries Past because the Bannister collection is something any thief would want—and each of you knows about the other's interest in it. How does that add up to a trap?”
Quinn hesitated, then sighed. “Actually, it's more like a sting. I knew that Nightshade would be at least a little reluctant to go after the Bannister collection on his own, no matter how badly he wants it.”
“Why?”
“For one thing, he isn't technically adept. At least not at the level required to breach a cutting-edge security system.”
Morgan was beginning to feel a little queasy. “Which you knew going in.”
“Yes.”
“Alex, are you