Page 70 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

Her answering laugh had him slipping out of her, but that was okay. For now. The laugh was what he’d been after.

She pinched his hip. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. Let’s clean up and have that talk of ours.”

Her next swallow took so long, it pained him.

He lay down beside her and pressed his hand over her hammering heart. God, the speed of it. A terrified bird. “I don’t sleep around, Clementine.”

She flinched and moved to sit up. “That’s not why I’m… It’s not because—”

“I know.” He eased her down and leaned over her. “You trusted that I’m clean, and it means more than you know, but I don’t take sex lightly, with or without a condom. I never have. I wouldn’t sleep with you as a fling or a way to work you out of my system. I slept with you to get closer to you. To show you how much I care. But we also need to talk. It’s the only way for us to move forward—an honest, open talk.”

Her racing heart didn’t slow, but she rolled toward him and kissed his chest. “Okay. Let’s get less naked for our talk.”

Twenty minutes later they were back on his bed, him in his briefs, Clementine looking way too sexy in one of his dress shirts, cuffs rolled, most buttons undone. He had fetched Ricky from the shelter and a few leaves of endive to feed him. His bearded dragon navigated the bed, the familiar reptile relaxing Clementine as he’d hoped. She rested her hand near Ricky and waited until he showed interest and approached. She petted his back, knowing just how much pressure to apply. When Ricky moved closer, she held out a piece of endive and let him nibble.

“You’re good with him,” he said.

“I miss Lucy.” Her pout was endearing.

“Who’s looking after her?”

She didn’t reply. Her mentor, he assumed. The father figure she refused to name. Jack hunched farther over his crossed legs. “Tell me how you got into your business.” He didn’t know what to call it. Burglary? Con-womaning? Criminal philanthropy?

She kept feeding Ricky. “A friend needed a pair of shoes.”

“So you stole them?” No judgment. He truly wanted to understand her.

Her attention stayed fixed on his bearded dragon. “My second foster home was actually nice. There was a girl there—Annie Ward, younger than me, but she always seemed older. She’d brush my hair and tell the most ridiculous stories just to make me smile, and she was an encyclopedia of all things Batman. So random and I kind of loved her. But our foster mother got pregnant and they decided to quit fostering. We got separated and never saw each other again, and the next house was…unpleasant.”

She paused. Jack waited, throat tight, for her to go on.

“They took in four kids. One girl was the sweetest thing. Her name was Nyomi and she still sucked her thumb at eight years old, didn’t speak much. Her last home had been a bad scene. I tried to take care of her like Annie had taken care of me, but the two other foster kids—one boy and one girl—could have starred in Nightmare on Elm Street. They terrorized Nyomi.”

“Physically?”

“Yes.”

“Did they hurt you, too?” The tendons in his neck strained. He wasn’t sure when he’d fisted his hands.

She shrugged. “As much as I could goad them into it. Anything to take the focus off Nyomi.”

Kids. Just a bunch of kids, who should have been cared for, not left to defend themselves against violent bullies. Yeah, he wanted to punch something. “And where were the foster parents during all this?”

“Eileen ordered us around. Had us doing chores nonstop—cleaning, cooking, gardening. Greg liked to wear his rings when he backhanded us.”

She didn’t flinch or shudder. She fed Ricky and spoke of her mental and physical abuse, not a wobble to her voice, but Jack’s anger flared. Taking in foster kids was a responsibility a thousand times more precious than giving abused reptiles shelter. Yet his enclosures were more a safe haven than Clementine’s foster homes had been.

“The shoes,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me about them.”

“One day they cornered Nyomi when I wasn’t home. By the time I got back, Nyomi was bleeding from cuts on her arms, like someone had attacked her with a razor. I tried to tell Eileen, who just got pissed I’d dirtied a towel cleaning Nyomi up. The next day I realized Nyomi’s shoes had been stolen. Both pairs. And it was wet and cold out. Mine were too big for her, so I did something about it.”

“You stole for her.” To help a friend and step in when others wouldn’t.

“My first day on the job,” she said. Her sarcasm didn’t mask her discomfort, or the fact that she wouldn’t look at him. “Not that I had much finesse. There was an outdoor display of kid’s and women’s shoes. I chatted up the sales lady and moved the sneakers I wanted closer to the edge, but didn’t take them. I mean, I was terrified. I actually thought I was having a heart attack, but I wouldn’t leave. Nyomi needed shoes. So I lingered long enough that the lady ignored me, then I snatched the sneakers and ran. Couldn’t believe I got away with it. At least I thought I did.”

“She caught you?”