slumped in her seat, and he slammed the door.
Within seconds, he sat beside her on the unyielding, cold leather. When he looked at her, his eyes were every bit as cold and unyielding.
“You’re kidnapping me.” Shock dulled her words.
“Yep.”
He had her; they both knew it.
A chill chased through her. Question was, what did he intend to do next?
Three
What had she gotten herself into?
Anger and frustration were two sides of the only coin she possessed. No matter which way that coin landed, she didn’t have a chance.
Kurt moved around the kitchen, ignoring the impatient tapping of her fingers on the table.
She could call for Columbine Crossing’s one taxi, but Kurt would stand in the way of her leaving. If she called Mary, Mary would probably throw her alliance with her brother...after all, Mary hadn’t liked Jessie’s motherhood idea much better than Kurt did. Even if Jessie called someone from the children’s center, Kurt was too well-known and—damn it—respected for anyone to take her seriously.
She fumed. If she didn’t get out of here in under an hour, she wouldn’t make it to Denver in time.
Irritation gnawed at her. He had no right, was out of his mind. She’d told him that half a dozen times in the truck. He’d turned up the radio. Garth Brooks singing about a long-neck bottle of beer only drowned out her complaints.
The fact she knew Kurt would never do anything to harm her, that he believed he had her best interests at heart, did nothing to improve her mood. If anything, it made it worse.
Sunshine, Kurt’s very pregnant golden retriever, waddled across to Jessie, the dog’s toenails clicking on the scarred vinyl flooring. Sunshine placed her head in Jessie’s lap. At least it was nice to have one ally.
“Breakfast?”
“Breakfast?” she repeated incredulously.
“Thought you might be hungry.”
He was acting so cool and calm, as if something like this happened every day. Maybe to him it did. It didn’t to her. “Being held prisoner killed my appetite.”
“Fine.”
Agitated, she stood. Sunshine gave a soft whine of protest, but then curled up beneath the table, a paw across her nose, ignoring the humans.
Jessie strode to the sink, her footsteps sounding out her hostility. He didn’t react; he just hummed the same Garth Brooks tune that he’d cranked up in the truck.
What was it about men that made them think themselves omniscient?
Sam had been the same way, always knowing what was best for her, even convincing her that making love before marriage was a good idea. After all, he’d said, he wanted to make sure they were compatible before they actually tied the knot.
She pressed her hands to her face.
Agreeing with Sam’s suggestion wrapped her dreams in the reality of an unhappily ever after.
When she found a way out of Kurt’s reach—and she would, in under an hour—she vowed she would never see him again, He could find someone else to do his bookkeeping, find some other woman’s life to interfere in. Those thoughts provided the only solace she’d had since he’d pounded on her door last night.
“I’m making eggs.”
She remained silent.
Outside, a layer of frost had painted the budding branches on trees...trees that stood as solitary against the elements as she felt against Kurt.
As far as she looked, there wasn’t another house in sight. The vista of high mountain prairie stretched before her, boldly spreading out until surrendering at the base of Eagle’s Peak.
She’d known Kurt and Mary when their parents had bought their first few acres of land. Now, as sole owner, Kurt had turned it into a thousand. Sheer determination accomplished his goals, Miss Starr had once reported.
Jessie belatedly realized she should have recognized that Kurt’s determination would prove to be her undoing.
Was it only last night that Kurt and his home represented hope?
The scent of strong coffee permeated the oversize room. The sound of a satisfying sizzle accompanied the aroma. She turned in time to see him dribble the rest of the whipped eggs into the waiting iron skillet.
Her body betrayed her. Her stomach growled.
Without offering a second time, he poured himself a mug of coffee, taking it straight up, the way one of her foster father’s had, with whiskey.
That memory made her shiver.
“Cold?”
From the bones, out. Didn’t Kurt miss a thing? “I’m fine. As fine as someone who’s been kidnapped can be.”
“Good.”
She scowled at him, without any effect. He took another drag from the mug, and when the toaster popped up two perfect slices of bread, her stomach growled once more.
Kurt removed a single plate from the cupboard, then pulled a knife and fork from a drawer. “Even a condemned man gets a last meal,” he stated. “It’s okay to admit defeat.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I intend to.”
Their gazes connected. He held it as captive as he’d earlier held her body. In that moment, things crystallized. Kidnapping her hadn’t been an impulse. She should have known that. He did things carefully, calculatingly.
To win.
A second shiver, this time nothing to do with a chill, raced through her.
“There’s enough for both of us. If you intend to fight me, you need to keep your strength up.”
He’d offered her a way out without having to back down. She appreciated that more than words could express. He wasn’t an ogre. At least not all of the time. “You cooked, I’ll do the dishes.”
“Lady, I might never let you go.” He set another place at the table and fed a couple more slices of bread into the toaster’s waiting slots. “So, Jessie,” he said, pouring her an unasked for—but very much needed—cup of coffee. “What are you going to tell your child when he asks about his father?”
Hunger faded. His chivalry had only been an act to catch her off guard. He was an ogre.
She slid into a chair, her spine supported by the rigid back. “I was going to decide on that when the time was right.”
“How many other things
