Thief of Hearts Boxed Set

  Thief of Hearts

  Boxed Set

  Doreen DeSalvo

  www.loose-id.com

  ®

  eISBN: 9781623001766

  THIEF OF HEARTS BOXED SET

  Copyright © 2014 by Loose Id LLC

  Publisher acknowledges the author and copyright holder of the individual works, as follows:

  ONCE A THIEF—Copyright © June 2006 by Doreen DeSalvo STILL A THIEF—Copyright © June 2007 by Doreen DeSalvo THREE’S NOT A CROWD—Copyright © October 2007 by Doreen DeSalvo

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  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the U.S.A. by Loose Id LLC

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  Warning

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  ONCE A THIEF

  STILL A THIEF

  THREE'S NOT A CROWD

  Loose Id Titles by Doreen DeSalvo

  Doreen DeSalvo

  Dedication

  This story is lovingly dedicated to the memory of Geno Mancini, my confidant, dear friend, and the brother of my heart.

  May 18, 2006

  Caro Geno, Every time I spoke with you, you said something that changed my life. Remember when you said, “The drama will stop when you decide it should”? Girl, was I pissed at that one! I didn’t tell you often enough that you were right—probably because you weren’t above saying “I told you so.”

  Without a hint of warning, you slipped away. I finished this story within hours of your passing, and I know you’re laughing to see me dedicate it to you. I miss you, paesano, and I hope there are hordes of good-looking men scratching your back in heaven. You’ll give Valentino some fierce competition.

  xoxo,

  Doreen

  Chapter One

  The door to Katherine’s office opened with a click. She looked up at a tall man—tall, dark and broad-shouldered, wearing a denim jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans.

  Jake Monroe.

  Great. Just what she needed, a reminder of her ghetto roots. A reminder of everything she’d worked so hard to leave behind.

  He had the same curly black hair, cut short, and the same jutting angles to his face. Age had added deep lines to his cheeks and bitterness to his brown eyes.

  And he looked much more dangerous than she remembered.

  At least he didn’t give any hint of recognizing her. Maybe she could keep it that way.

  “I’m John Monroe.”

  She closed his file and put it face down on her desk. She wouldn’t want to see a man like him get angry. No need to let him know she’d been reading up on him—worse, she’d been looking at his rap sheet. He’d done three years for his first offense. Armed robbery.

  When he reached over her desk to shake her hand, she rose to greet him.

  “Katherine Kern. I’m an assistant district attorney for the city.”

  His big, calloused hand swallowed hers in a firm grip. “Congratulations,” he said dryly, with an ironic lift of one eyebrow. Still no glimmer of recognition, though. Maybe she hadn’t been that memorable.

  Even leaning across her wide desk, he towered over her. And he didn’t release her hand after the perfunctory handshake. No, he held on while his gaze raked her breasts. Blatantly.

  She pulled away and motioned to the chairs that faced her desk. “Have a seat.”

  He did, leaning back and sprawling his legs in front of him as if he were lounging on a sofa watching Monday night football. Even as a punk teenager, he’d been muscular, but now… He’d really filled out, with broad shoulders, a solid chest, and bulging thighs that strained the denim of his jeans. Maybe he’d spent his time behind bars working out. Or maybe he’d filled out naturally in the ten years since she’d seen him.

  Time had changed her, too. So much that he didn’t seem to recognize her. Maybe he never would. She’d kept away from his kind in high school. As tempting as the bad boys had been, she’d known better than to play with fire.

  She still knew better. Unfortunately. No wonder she hadn’t had a man in years.

  She sat down and folded her arms on the desk in front of her. “You know why you’re here, John?”

  “Yeah.”

  He sounded resentful, like one of the kids he was supposed to help. Why had he volunteered to be a mentor if he didn’t want to be here? Maybe he hadn’t volunteered. Maybe community service was a condition of his parole. “You’ll have to be a bit more communicative than that when you talk to your mentee. Have you prepared anything to say?”

  “No.”

  So much for communication.

  After a long moment of studying his hands, he spoke. “I can ad lib just fine. I want to sound natural. Natural and honest.”

  “Good. Kids can tell when you’re lying to them.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

  He stared straight into her eyes, as if he was challenging her. Defensive—typical for an ex-con. She’d worked with a lot of them. No reason to treat Jake Monroe any differently than the others, even if seeing him again brought back a stupid rush of adolescent hormones.

  She grabbed the file folder labeled Scott Hopkins and slid it across the desk to him. “Here’s the boy you’ll be meeting tonight.”

  He straightened up and took it, then slouched back again and opened the file. “Tell me about him.”

  “He’s new to the program. His mom is in and out of rehab all the time. His older brother supposedly takes care of him when his mother isn’t home.”

  “Is he in a gang?”

  “No. He’s a loner.” At least he was curious. Maybe he’d do a good job after all. “He’s been convicted of multiple misdemeanors. Our goal is to prevent him from graduating to felonies.”

  “Like I did.”

  She might as well be frank. “Exactly.”

  He looked amused by her agreement. Full lips tilted up at the corners in a little smile…almost a smirk.

  “If you aren’t going to take this seriously, you might as well leave right now. There’s no point in establishing a relationship with Scott if you’re going to flake on him.”

  He frowned at that. “I’m not going to flake.”

  “You clearly don’t want
to be here.”

  “You don’t have a clue what I want.” He gave her another long look, as if assessing her suit. Or the breasts beneath it. “How did you get stuck with this gig?”

  “I volunteered. These kids need all the help they can get.”

  “You’re a D. A., right?”

  Where was he going with this? She nodded. “I’m an assistant D. A.”

  “So it’s your job to prosecute criminals, not to help them.” He sounded like he thought she had the most immoral job in the world. “Seems strange for you to be running a prevention program.”

  “I’d prefer it if the crime was never committed in the first place.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Then you’d be out of a job.”

  She didn’t have to take this. “We have five minutes before the session begins. If you can’t be civil, you can wait in the hallway.” And take those broad shoulders with you.

  “Don’t get pissed off, Kate.”

  “It’s Katherine.” Wait a minute. She hadn’t gone by Kate in years.

  His eyes gleamed. Now his lips wore a bona fide smirk. As if he recognized her for the scared, uptight girl she’d been all those years ago.

  “So you do remember me.”

  His smile didn’t fade. “And you remember me.”

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  She had no answer to that.

  He leaned forward and gave her another once-over. A heated once-over, his gaze lingering on her breasts. Unsettling her, though nothing would make her admit it. She clenched her hands under the desk to stop herself from folding her arms over her chest, but the warmth in her face told her she was blushing.

  His grin went wicked. “You sure have changed. I like the buttoned-down executive look.”

  Was that his idea of a compliment? “I don’t care what you like.” Liar.

  He leaned closer, resting his arms on the desk. Could just a look make her nipples hard?

  Yes. Damn him.

  She wouldn’t move away, no matter how much he crowded her. No matter how rapidly her heart beat from having him this close.

  “You never did,” he said.

  She frowned, totally confused. “What?”

  “You never did care what I liked.” He smiled. Slow, confident, and God help her, sexy. “But I liked you, Kate.”

  Subtlety obviously wasn’t one of his strong suits. He looked like he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off. God, the image was tempting. For once, just once, she could have a wild, dangerous man. A man she couldn’t control.

  No. No, she couldn’t take the risk. With an ex-con? No way. “Forget it.”

  He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Hey, it’s only natural to wonder how much you’ve changed. It’s been what, eight years?”

  More like ten. Since graduation from high school. She’d gone to college and tried to put the projects behind her. “Give it up, Jake.”

  He shook his head. “You’re harsh. What’s wrong with a little reminiscing?”

  “We have nothing to reminisce about, and you know it.”

  “Sure we do. We’re from the same hood. But you probably don’t live in the Gardens anymore.”

  The Gardens. She’d almost forgotten the ironic nickname someone had given the projects. “It’s none of your business where I live.”

  His gaze dropped to her breasts again. He looked at her like he hadn’t seen a woman in months. Well, he’d been in prison for three years. Sometimes she felt like she’d been in prison herself—a prison of self-denial, always being the good girl. A man like him could teach her to be bad.

  Very bad.

  His gaze came back to her face. “Remember how we used to play together when we were kids?”

  Oh, God. They’d played Doctor. Exactly twice, under the front porch of her grandmother’s house, until they’d been caught. At age seven, this man’s penis was the first one she’d ever seen. He’d knelt on the ground at her feet, feasting his eyes on her while she held her skirt up like a little tramp. She hadn’t been anything but curious at seven. Now, twenty years later, the thought of having his head under her skirt made her wish she was the little tramp her grandmother had called her.

  He grinned. “I know you remember. You’re blushing. I’ve learned a lot since then.”

  Like how to steal, and God only knew what else.

  He winked at her. “Let’s play together again. Real soon.”

  Hardly a subtle offer. But oh, how she wished she could take him up on it. Wished she could live dangerously for just one night in her cautious life. But not with him, not with an ex-con fresh from prison. He’d make a good fantasy, but the reality was just too dangerous. “In your dreams, Monroe.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “Oh, definitely. Now that I’ve seen you again, Kate, you’re going to have a starring role in my dreams.”

  Before she could answer, a knock came from the door. Scotty.

  Thank God, a chaperone. She couldn’t throw herself into Jake Monroe’s arms in front of a teenaged chaperone.

  Chapter Two

  Jake held the door open for Kate and stepped inside the coffee shop behind her, squinting against the sudden brightness. Kate led the way to a booth in the back, near the restrooms and the alcove that held the pay phones, as far away from other customers as possible. She probably didn’t want anyone to see her with a thug like him. He couldn’t really blame her.

  But he did.

  And he couldn’t take his eyes off her ass, swaying under that drab, conservative wool suit as she walked briskly in front of him.

  They sat down in a shiny red vinyl booth with a three-inch chip on one corner of the Formica table.

  A stone-faced waitress followed them and set menus down on the table the second they were seated. “You folks want coffee?” The gravelly voice matched the deep grooves etched along her frown.

  “Hot tea, please,” Kate said, pushing the menu aside.

  “Just coffee for me.”

  The waitress picked up the menus and took off.

  Kate stared at her folded hands for a moment, then gazed at him. “You did a good job with Scott tonight.”

  She looked surprised. Was that why she’d agreed to come out for coffee after the meeting? To thank him?

  “What did you expect?”

  She glanced at the table, then back up at him. Her eyes were green. He’d grown up in the same crummy project as her, and he’d never noticed. She’d kept to herself—a driven, college-bound girl in carefully mended clothes. Maybe he’d never been close enough to see her eyes like this. Or maybe he’d forgotten.

  “I didn’t expect anything,” she answered. “I never know how…how new mentors will interact with the kids.”

  “You have beautiful eyes.” Damn, he hadn’t meant to say that.

  She sat up straight and pulled her hands close to her breasts. God, she had a nice chest. Generous, but not unbelievable. Maybe she’d take off her suit jacket and give him a better look.

  Instead, she folded her arms over her chest. He must have been staring. Hell, why did he feel like he should apologize? So she had a nice rack. Anyone would have checked it out. No crime in that.

  But he’d been staring far too long. “He’s a good kid.”

  She didn’t seem startled by the change of subject. Same old Kate, always in control. What would it take to rattle her? “Yes, he is,” she agreed. “They all are. Most of the hard cases drop out after the first month.”

  The waitress arrived with their drinks. Kate dipped her tea bag in the little tin thing, steam rising from the hot water. He cupped his hands around the warm cup of coffee. Nothing quite like the smell of good coffee. He’d missed it a lot while he’d been in prison.

  Not as much as he’d missed the smell of a woman, though. Kate’s scent drove him crazy—a light musky perfume, subtle and delicate just like her face. He’d like to smell her without it, too. Fresh from a shower, h
er skin damp and flushed with heat. Or sweaty, smelling like sex, her swan-like neck covered with little marks from his teeth. Just the thought made his cock lift.

  He took a sip of coffee to ease the tightness in his throat. “I liked the kid. He says what’s on his mind.”

  “Tonight he did, at any rate.” She took the tea bag out of the little tin pitcher and put it on the saucer. Her nails were clear of polish, but nicely manicured. She had great fingers, too. Slender, capable fingers. Just looking at her hand, imagining it on him…his cock went hard. It didn’t take much to get him horny these days. He’d gone too long without a woman.

  “He’s usually very quiet,” she went on. “I think you made an impression on him.”

  He’d like to make an impression on her, too. On a mattress. What were the odds? One in a thousand? “I hope so.”

  “It helped that you talked about your time behind bars.”

  Behind bars? He choked back a snort. Was that the politically correct way of saying he’d been in prison?

  She kept on talking. “I’m sure he never thought about how violent it is inside. He’s only done a few weeks in a juvenile facility. He has no idea what prison’s like.”

  Christ, couldn’t she think of anything else to talk to him about? After all these years? “Kate…stop.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He took another sip of coffee while he tried to think of a polite answer. “Look, I’ll talk about prison for the kids, but I don’t want to talk about it with you.”

  She looked a little hurt, her gaze down, like a vulnerable woman hiding under that competent wool suit. “Oh. Of course. I understand.”

  She didn’t, he could see that. He set his cup down and folded his hands in front of him. “All right. Why don’t we get it out of the way? What do you want to know?”

  “Nothing.” She took a sip of tea, no doubt to give herself time to think. He’d been doing it himself all night. “It’s none of my business. Really. It’s fine.”

  She stared at the bridge of his nose, as if she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.