Passion's Price. Gwynne Forster
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“You’re trying to take my mind off the fact that you’re unlawfully detaining me.” She looked at her watch. “Damn! I should have taken my medicine an hour ago. It’s in my hotel room, and if I don’t take it soon, I could have a seizure.”
He threw up his hands. “Sure, and the Mississippi River runs right through Washington, D.C. I’m not falling for that. Besides, if it were true, you’d carry your medication with you. Try another tactic.”
“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked him. “No food, no feelings and no fun?” She grinned. He tried to ignore her. He was trying to protect her, as well as Boyd Farmer. If she walked out of that house alone, she’d likely walk into trouble.
“Before this is over, you may need my help.”
“Let’s all try to get along,” Boyd said. He looked at Mike, who didn’t seem interested. “Oh, by the way, would you please ask your relief to bring a can or two of deep-roasted Columbian coffee and a gallon of milk?”
Mike walked to the window, looked out and turned to Boyd. “I’ll bring the coffee and milk when I come tomorrow morning.”
Mike noticed Darlene’s sudden interest and figured that as soon as his replacement arrived, she’d try to escape.
“Don’t even think about it, Darlene. Cody Johnson won’t be half as nice to you as I am. If you try to pull a stunt, or even if you give him any lip, he’ll take you down to the station and let you cool off in the lockup.”
“But I haven’t done anything,” she said, her big eyes clouding with the threat of tears. Quickly, he turned his back to avoid feeling any sympathy if she began to cry.
“Then I suggest you cooperate.”
“Look. I’m tired.” She placed the tray that contained the remains of her lunch—hardly touched—on the coffee table and got up. “It’s been one long day.”
“If you need anything, let me know,” Boyd said. “I usually eat dinner around seven, so I’ll wake you up about six, and we can order takeout.”
“Thanks, Boyd.” She reached for her pocketbook.
“That stays right there,” Mike said. “Right where I can keep an eye on it.”
“Why does knowing my pocketbook is in your care make me unhappy?”
“It’s a pity that she has to stay here, Mike,” Boyd said. “She’s such a lovely young lady.”
He couldn’t deny that. As she walked up the stairs, the sway of her hips showed Boyd and Mike how a master choreographer perfected a dance. Mike uttered an expletive under his breath.
“Do you think she’ll go to sleep?” Boyd asked Mike.
Mike threw up his hands. “Trust me, she won’t do anything that sensible. I’ll sleep on that sofa over there tonight, in case she tries something foolish.”
“I like her,” Boyd said.
“What man wouldn’t,” Mike retorted. “That doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. Many a crook has sent a beautiful woman to do his work for him.”
Darlene did not have rest in mind. She quietly walked up the stairs, paused at the guest room, turned and looked toward the stairs to see if Mike had followed her. When she saw that he hadn’t, she opened and then closed the door to give the impression that she’d gone inside the room. Then she tiptoed down the hall and peeped in what she assumed was the master bedroom, a very masculine setting with a big mahogany sleigh bed, a Bokhara rug and wood blinds. She stepped in, looked in the bathroom and shook her head. No possibility there. She left the master and looked in the next room. The room next door didn’t offer an opportunity for escape, either. Even if she managed to get out, the window was at the front of the house, and she’d be caught.
She saw a door slightly ajar at the end of the hall, peeped in and saw a spa bath. Figuring that if she stepped into the Jacuzzi, she could stand on the edge of it to reach the window, which did not seem to be locked, she decided to risk it. She sat on the edge of the treadmill, pulled off her four-inch heels and stepped into the tub. After an exhausting struggle balancing precariously on the edge of the Jacuzzi, she managed to raise the window about eight inches. She grabbed the windowsill, pushed her body upward, closed her eyes and got as much as her shoulders out of the window.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman? Are you trying to kill yourself? Not even a fool would deliberately plunge headfirst into a rock garden!”
She didn’t realize that her skirt hem had crawled nearly to her waist until she felt his strong fingers clasp her thighs. As scared as she was, the feeling of his hands, gentle but firm, sent shock waves through her body. With one hand just below her buttocks and the other under her armpits, he pulled her body inch by inch back into the room.
“This window won’t open any farther,” he said, “and I don’t want to hurt you. Try to move your head to the side so that I can get you in here without bruising you.”
“Nobody asked you to do this,” she said, fuming at having been caught. “Take your hands off me.”
“Now you listen to me, Darlene. If you’d been successful, you’d be dead by now. Jumping feetfirst would have rewarded you with a broken leg and maybe a severely injured spine, but headfirst…” He pulled her in a bit more. “I’ve tried to protect you, but you don’t believe you’re in jeopardy. If I open that front door and give you permission to leave, I guarantee that you wouldn’t reach the end of this block without being followed. If you were lucky enough to get to your hotel, you’d be a sitting duck there.”
“Nobody would bother me in that hotel.”
His left hand cradled the back of her head as he eased her feet to the bottom of the Jacuzzi.
“Don’t ever do anything like that again,” he said, still holding her in his arms.
Embarrassed, frustrated and flustered, intending to give him one of her razor-sharp barbs, she looked up at him and gasped. Every inch of her skin, every nerve in her body responded to the fiery turbulence in his eyes. She couldn’t move and didn’t want to.
“You…uh…you can put me down now.”
With his hand at the back of her head, he stared down into her eyes. “That isn’t what you want, and it is definitely not what I want.” His lips were an inch from hers.
“Open your mouth and take me in.”
“P-put m-me down. I…” His lips parted, and his masculine aura enveloped her until, nearly out of her mind with a strange, peculiar need for him, her hands went behind his head and brought his mouth to hers.
“Kiss me, baby.” The hoarseness of his voice communicated a sense of urgency. She pulled him into her mouth and tasted him as if she’d never had anything so good. His tongue began to dip and sample every crevice of her mouth, teasing and tantalizing her until the heat at her core made her thighs tremble. He didn’t