into place around Cabrini’s right wrist. Beneath her fingers, his pulse beat with a heavy rhythm that matched her own heartbeat. She forced out a calming breath and, along with it, the memory of the hungry desire she’d read in his eyes.
Was he really a federal agent? If he was telling the truth, what the devil was Dex up to and why had he involved her?
Anger bubbled up and she embraced the emotion. Anything was better than the desire Cabrini’s proximity generated.
Another mosquito landed on Cabrini’s neck and she slapped it, maybe a little harder than necessary, judging by his startled glance over his shoulder at her.
“The bugs seem to have a particular liking for your taste.” Sweet or salty? The thought sent heat flashing over her neck and cheeks. She kicked Rusty’s door shut and nudged Cabrini in the direction of the house. “Let’s get inside before they make a meal of you.”
Once inside, she shut and locked the inner door and turned off the porch light. She tapped Cabrini’s shoulder and nodded toward the breakfast nook. “Have a seat.”
He folded his length onto the bench and slid into the corner. It gave him a power position from which he could observe her, but it also severely restricted his mobility. If he made any unexpected move, she’d have her gun out and at the ready before he could do more than slide to the end of the table.
“Thanks.” She acknowledged his tactic.
“I figure the only way to earn your trust is to behave in a trustworthy manner.”
“Let’s really put you to the test then.”
He sat up a little straighter. “What do you have in mind?”
“Cooking.” She shrugged at his raised eyebrows. “I’m not very good and have a rather limited repertoire. Tonight’s options are mac and cheese or tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“Kind of heavy on the cheese, aren’t you?”
“Just doing my part to support the local economy.” She began unpacking the grocery bag. “Pick your poison—which will it be?”
“I’ll leave it to you.”
“Macaroni and cheese it is.” She put water on to boil. “It’s more of a one-handed meal, which is all you’ll have available after I cuff you to the table leg.”
It only took a few minutes to stow the rest of the groceries in the cupboard, then she set about readying the ingredients for their meal. All the while, she was acutely aware of his steady gaze on her as she moved around the kitchen work island dicing ham and cheese.
“No box?” His question caught her by surprise.
“Nope. Scratch.” She tossed the cheese and ham into the pot with the drained pasta, added some milk and stirred.
“Isn’t a box easier?”
“Not really, and this tastes a whole lot better.” Satisfied with the progress of their meal preparation, she turned her attention to the next item on her agenda—securing Cabrini while they ate. “Which hand do you eat with?”
The wicked twinkle in his eyes told her he was remembering the rest stop and her logistical error. A slow smile curved his lips. An answering heat crept up her neck.
Manitoba. She hadn’t blushed this much since…ever.
She had a bad feeling she better get used to the heat.
Chapter 4
Frank lounged back against the cushioned kitchen banquette. In spite of her warning, the meal had been rather tasty, if heavy on the dairy products and lacking in the vegetable food group.
The handcuffs rattled as he stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. His dining posture left something to be desired. The table leg she’d cuffed him to was positioned too far under the table for him to sit upright.
He rattled the cuffs again, drawing her attention. “Could I interest you in undoing these?”
“Why would I do that?” Eating hadn’t noticeably improved her disposition.
“It’ll be easier for me to do the dishes without the bracelets.”
“You want to do the dishes?”
“I’ve never known anyone who wants to clean dishes. It just seems a fair offer to make since you did the cooking. It was quite good, by the way. I don’t think I’ve had macaroni and cheese since I was twelve.”
“Hmph.”
“Figure out your problem yet?” They’d eaten their meal in silence. Neither of them had offered any conversation openers. He’d spent the time mulling over the situation and trying to come up with a plan.
“What problem?”
“Whatever it is that’s been eating at you for the past half hour.”
“The problem part is easy. It’s the solution that has me stumped.”
“Let me guess. I’m your problem?”
“Perceptive, aren’t you?”
“Still haven’t decided if you believe me?”
“Whether or not I do, I’m still stuck.” She dropped her head into her hands and dug her fingers into her hair. “Which agency did you say you work for?”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you take the cuffs off and I’ll answer all your questions while I deal with the dishes.”
She didn’t answer.
“Consider it a test.”
She blew out a breath and pushed away from the table. “You’ll answer all my questions?”
“All that I can without jeopardizing my investigation.”
She snorted. “That’s convenient. Anything I ask that you don’t want to answer, you just claim classified, is that it?”
“Even if it is, you’ll still get the dishes washed and the kitchen cleaned up. That must be worth something.”
“Fine. Turn around.”
He complied, twisting his right arm behind him as he faced the wall. She was still plenty wary and not taking any chances. Every time she uncuffed him, she made sure he was in as awkward a position as she could come up with.
The cuff loosened and he waited for her next direction. He really wanted to win her trust, and figured it would be in his best interest to comply with her requests and not move until so ordered.
“Stand up.”
He turned slowly and found her standing across the table from him with her gun drawn. Laying both hands on the table, he slid to the end of the seat and stood.
“I
