“You,” he said, reaching to rotate his stick of snake meat in the fire. “A regular plane ride’s just not good enough, huh? Have to call for a private jet.”
All right, maybe that had sounded a little snooty. “I only meant—”
“Relax, princess,” he said, interrupting her neatly. “I know just what you meant.”
“Really.”
Shifting position, Lisa folded her legs in the most ladylike manner she could manage. Wincing slightly at the movement, she tucked her torn, dirty dress down over them and shrugged out of his shirt. With the rock walls cutting off the wind, and the tiny fire, she’d finally warmed up again.
“Yes, really,” Travis said, shaking his head again and leaning back against the cool rock wall. He had her number. Had had it from the moment she’d opened her eyes and looked up at him back there at the shack. And he didn’t mind telling her so. “I’ve known women like you most of my life,” he said. “The rich girls, counting out daddy’s money and buying what they could never earn.”
“Now just a darn minute.” Her eyes flashed, outrage obvious in her tone.
“Struck a nerve, huh?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he went on. “Let’s just look at your story so far. You decide to visit an area rife with civil unrest to do some shopping and promptly get snatched.”
“The papers at home didn’t say anything about the dangers of—”
“And then,” he said, his voice easily overriding hers, “when you’re in trouble up to your pretty neck, you just expect Daddy to pay the demanded ransom.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” she asked. “I’m his only child.”
“For which he’s probably grateful,” Travis commented and took real pleasure in the murder he saw glinting in her eyes. “My point is, even if he’d paid the ransom, there was no guarantee you’d be released.”
“Of course they’d have released me. Why wouldn’t they?”
“Darlin’,” he said, “after spending most of the day with you, I’m only surprised they didn’t offer to pay your dad to take you off their hands.”
“You have no right to say such—”
He waved off her indignation. “But back to our story. See, this is where me and my friends came in. The government convinced your daddy to hold off on paying up and to send us in instead.”
“It’s your job, isn’t it?”
“My job is to help people who need it. Even spoiled little rich girls whose only job is to look gorgeous and spend cash that isn’t theirs.”
And she was gorgeous, he admitted silently, his gaze moving over her quickly, thoroughly. Even after all she’d been through, she looked damn good. Blond hair that just dusted across her shoulders was tucked behind her ears now, and a soft fringe of bangs stopped just above her finely arched eyebrows. In the firelight her eyes looked as blue as the sea at dusk, and her mouth looked delicious. Her teeth continually tugged at her bottom lip until it was all Travis could do to keep from offering to help with that little chore. Damn, this was not the time or the place or hell…the woman to be having these thoughts about.
He’d do well to remember that she was nothing more than a mission gone wrong. If she hadn’t held him up. If she hadn’t wasted so much time looking for her damn purse. If those expensive but worthless high heels had made better time in the sand…if any of those things had been different, he would already be rid of her. They’d have parted ways and he never would have had the time or opportunity to notice that her right breast was just a little fuller than her left.
Oh, man. Travis got a grip on the suddenly rampaging hormones charging through his bloodstream and reminded himself that she was no different from the girls back home. Those girls, backed by their daddies’ oil money, had run roughshod over anybody in their way. And when it came to guys like him—they were happy enough to snuggle up in the dark, but they never brought his kind home to daddy.
Travis Hawks didn’t come from money and as far as he could tell, having it hadn’t done those girls—or this one, for that matter—any good.
“I resent that.”
He blinked and drew himself back to the conversation at hand. Hell, fighting with her was one sure way to keep his mind on the job rather than on fantasies that didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of coming true. “I bet you do,” he said. “But you’re not denying it.”
“I do deny it,” she said hotly, and leaned toward him. Firelight mirrored in her eyes until it looked as though her gaze was shooting sparks at him. “I am not spoiled. And for your information, I’m on the boards of some very worthwhile charities. I do work.”
He nodded sagely, but there was amusement in his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure your telephone dialing finger gets a real workout.”
That blond eyebrow lifted again and disappeared behind her bangs.
“So you work,” he said. “Do you have to live off what you make? I don’t think so.”
“I see. Because I don’t have to worry about income, what I do is worth nothing?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You most certainly did.”
All right, maybe he shouldn’t have started any of this. It was none of his business how she lived. His job was simply to return her to the lap of luxury and get the hell out of Dodge. They had another few days together, and there was no sense in being outright enemies, for Pete’s sake.
“You know what you are?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and studying him as if he were smeared on a glass slide beneath a microscope.
“I’ll bet you’re about to tell me.”
“I’d be happy to,” she said, a soft smile curving that luscious mouth of hers.
She looked like a woman with a point to make, and Travis, like any other sane man, battened down the hatches and waited for the blow.
“You’re a snob.”
A short, sharp laugh shot from his throat, ricocheting off the rock walls to echo mockingly.
“A snob?” he repeated.
“That’s right.”
“Honey,” he said, “I don’t make enough money to be a snob.”
“That’s just it,” she countered, folding her arms beneath her breasts and nodding at him. “You’re a reverse snob.”
“Oh, this should be good,” he said, intrigued in spite of himself. He watched her with interest and couldn’t help noticing again just how damn fine she looked, sitting there all smug in her dirty designer dress.
“Because you don’t have money, you’re prejudiced against those who do.”
“Darlin’,”
