Making up her mind, Gypsy slid into the crowd. Her pulse accelerated with the excitement of the lift as the world shifted into slow motion. Funny how everything came back to her as if it had been only yesterday. She settled in, moving easily into position. With a little urging, the people behind the tourist walked faster, then parted and streamed around him on both sides. At the right moment, she kicked the shoe of the man walking just ahead of her, causing him to stumble into the tourist. As they bumped—with her as part of the tangle—she dipped her fingers and flicked out the tourist's wallet.

Sorry, mister. I promise I'll put it to good use. And if your address is in here, I'll mail it back with all your credit cards. Unused, this time. 

Heart banging, she shoved the billfold deep into the hidden pocket of her bright, gathered skirt. Gaily-colored ribbons, beads and charms dangling from a belt encircling her waist, combined with her cleavage-exposing top, kept most people from noticing the overloaded pocket.

Unexpectedly the mark straightened, then jerked around to glare directly at her. With the people milling around him, he couldn't know she'd taken his wallet, could he? She couldn't have lost her touch. It hadn't been that long.

She stumbled, for real this time, and landed in a heap. She should have been out of there by now, but there she was, on the ground, going nowhere.

Panic exploded, burning through her, robbing her of thought and action. With her head ducked, she waited for the blows to start. She tensed as she considered what else the penalty might include.

When nothing happened, she dared a glance. Slowly he moved his hand toward her. Had he been waiting for her to open her eyes so she would see it coming? So she would know how it was going to hurt, then experience the pain?

Without a word, he gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet. 

Forcing a breath into her depleted lungs, she looked into his face, then swallowed hard as she tried to ignore his grip on her arm. His eyes were brown, shot with streaks of green. His jaw was strong. The lines around his mouth and eyes were creased deep, as if he smiled often. Taken as a whole, his face made him look . . . honest. Unsuspecting.

He watched her for a moment. "Are you hurt?" he finally asked.

"I'm fine." At his kind question, relief pumped through her body. Her joints lost their strength, making her glad he still held her arm. His wallet weighed heavily against her leg. She spoke the lie that slid easily to her lips. "I'm so sorry, but that guy tripped me. Did you see him?"

The tourist shook his head, then glanced toward the departing crowd.

"He must have been in a real hurry, because he didn't even stop. Just rushed away." She knew better than to talk like that. Explaining so much made her look guilty. With an effort, she forced her mouth shut.

The tourist lowered one eyebrow, as if he was beginning to truly understand. She had to get away from him before that happened. And as much as she hated to, she had to take his wallet with her.

Gypsy