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Secret Defender
Debbi Rawlins
AN HEIRESS TO PROTECTLuke Boudreau was a man unlike any other and he would stop at nothing to keep Sydney Wainwright safe–even if it meant kidnapping the headstrong heiress. Only, the tough-as-nails investigator never anticipated that a daring double cross would send him and Sydney on the run.Now, uncovering the threat to Sydney's life lay in the clues to a perilous puzzle that only brought the two closer together. Though Luke knew he should keep his professional distance, his feelings for the young beauty became increasingly personal. And now, evading the determined killer on their trail seemed easier than resisting Sydney….



“Keep your head down!” Luke shouted
The helicopter was flying low behind them. The car swerved. There was another gunshot. Luke took a sharp right, and Sydney fell against the door, feeling the jolt the instant they left the pavement and hit the rocky ground, screeching to a halt. The helicopter stayed close overhead, the thunderous whirring vibrating in her ears.
Like lightning Luke was under a tree, perfectly still, his feet shoulder-length apart, his gun aimed toward a patch of blue sky between the trees. A second later he fired. Another shot. She saw the helicopter drop a few feet, then sway. Blades sputtered, and the helicopter lurched forward.
Shivering, she slowly raised her head. She couldn’t see Luke at first, and alarm rose in her throat. Panic slithered down her spine. She’d heard two shots. Had Luke been shot?
The sudden thought rocked her to her core.
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
It’s the most wonderful time of the year! And we have six breathtaking books this month that will make the season even brighter….
THE LANDRY BROTHERS are back! We can’t think of a better way to kick off our December lineup than with this long-anticipated new installment in Kelsey Roberts’s popular series about seven rascally brothers, born and bred in Montana. In Bedside Manner, chaos rips through the town of Jasper when Dr. Chance Landry finds himself framed for murder…and targeted for love! Check back this April for the next title, Chasing Secrets. Also this month, watch for Protector S.O.S. by Susan Kearney. This HEROES INC. story spotlights an elite operative and his ex-lover who maneuver stormy waters—and a smoldering attraction—as they race to neutralize a dangerous hostage situation.
The adrenaline keeps on pumping with Agent-in-Charge by Leigh Riker, a fast-paced mystery. You’ll be bewitched by this month’s ECLIPSE selection—Eden’s Shadow by veteran author Jenna Ryan. This tantalizing gothic unravels a shadowy mystery and casts a magical spell over an enamored duo. And the excitement doesn’t stop there! Jessica Andersen returns to the lineup with her riveting new medical thriller, Body Search, about two hot-blooded doctors who are stranded together in a windswept coastal town and work around the clock to combat a deadly outbreak.
Finally this month, watch for Secret Defender by Debbi Rawlins—a provocative woman-in-jeopardy tale featuring an iron-willed hero who will stop at nothing to protect a headstrong heiress…even kidnap her for her own good.
Best wishes for a joyous holiday season from all of us at Harlequin Intrigue.
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor, Harlequin Intrigue

Secret Defender
Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debbi Rawlins lives with her new husband in a Las Vegas suburb. She still misses Hawaii at times, mainly because of the ocean, but has come to enjoy desert living. Especially during the fall and winter months. Come summer, she heads for their Utah condo sitting 97,000 feet above the heat.



CAST OF CHARACTERS
Sydney Wainwright—Heiress to millions. Someone is sending her threatening letters. Will she make it to her twenty-fifth birthday and claim her inheritance?
Luke Boudreau—Ex-cop, ex-con, he’s kidnapped Sydney but claims he wants to protect her.
Willard Seymour—Sydney’s godfather and lawyer, trusted friend of the Wainwright family who’s controlled the company since the death of her parents.
Rick Wainwright—The brother Sydney didn’t know she had until a year ago.
Jeff—The new man in Sydney’s life—an attorney she met at a party.
Julie—An old friend from the wrong side of the tracks, who’s suddenly popped into Sydney’s life again.
Mama Sadie—The only person who truly knows and trusts Luke Boudreau.
This is for Karl. See? I told you I’d make
an honest man out of you.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue

Chapter One
Sign the papers and die.
Sydney Wainwright stared at the bold black letters on the sheet of white paper. Her hands no longer trembled like they had when she’d received the first two threats. She’d been fearful then; now, she was angry.
She wadded up the note and then slipped it in the top drawer of her desk, way in the back where no one would see it. Better that Willard and her brother didn’t know she’d received another one. They’d already accused her of not taking the threats seriously enough.
They thought she should disappear for a while, go to France or Rio, or take a cruise. No way was she running scared. She’d finally taken control of her life. She wouldn’t give it up that easily.
After locking the desk, she grabbed her purse and headed down the hall. She had half an hour to make it to her hair appointment. That gave Willard only two minutes to complain about her venturing out alone.
He was such a dear man, a trusted and loyal friend of the family forever, but he’d become too protective since her parents’ death. He kept forgetting she wasn’t a child anymore.
She stopped outside his office and knocked briefly before opening the door. Rick was sitting across from Willard’s desk. They abruptly stopped talking when they saw her. Then her brother slid Willard a cryptic glance, which made her uneasy.
“Hey, what are you two doing? Conspiring against me?” She grinned, and Rick looked away.
“On your way to lunch?” Willard eyed the Chanel bag slung over her shoulder.
Rick immediately stood. “I was just on my way out, too. Let’s go together.”
She gave him a bland look. “Subtle, Rick.” She aimed her gaze to include Willard. “I’m going to quit telling you guys when I leave the building if you keep acting this way.”
“What?” Rick had the affronted-big-brother look down pat already. “I’m not supposed to break for lunch?”
She held back, instead of blasting him like she wanted to. She liked Rick, but she’d only known him for a year. It wasn’t as if he’d been the big brother she’d run to all her life, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings either. His lips curved in a wry smile. He’d learned to read her quickly. “Go ahead, tell me to butt out. I can take it.”
“Okay.” Sydney smiled back. “Butt out.”
He shook his head. “Look, I know it’s hard to take, me showing up suddenly, claiming I’m your half brother. I also know Willard had me checked out down to the kind of boxers I wear before he welcomed me into the fold.”
Willard didn’t even blink. The attorney in him worried about her inheritance, the father in him worried about her, period. He made no apology.
Sydney chuckled. “Boring white…maybe a pair of paisley once in a while. Am I right?”
Rick didn’t smile. “You can’t keep treating these threats lightly, Syd. It’s kind of nice having a sister, and I’d like to see you make it to your twenty-fifth birthday. Let Willard arrange for some protection until Wainwright Corporation is legally turned over to you.”
Sighing, she wandered over to the window, laid her forehead against the glass and stared idly out at the Dallas skyline. Turning twenty-five should mean all a girl had to worry about was if her next date might be Mr. Right. Or whether it was time to switch to Oil of Olay.
Not worrying about gaining control of a multimillion-dollar company or division buyouts or union organizers getting ticked off because they might lose their foothold. Sydney understood the pitfalls of having that much responsibility and power, but no way did she believe the union would resort to murder. It didn’t make sense.
She turned back to the earnestness in Rick’s eyes. Hard to believe he was her brother. Physically, they were opposites. His eyes were blue, his hair dark blond, while she was boring brown all the way.
She pushed away from the window. “I’m not going to live in fear. I had to do that half my life. I won’t do it anymore.”
“This is different.”
“You don’t understand.” Their gazes met and hers quickly skittered away.
As her father’s bastard child, Rick had grown up poor while she’d been privileged with the Wainwright name and wealth. At times, guilt gnawed at her. She wasn’t to blame for her father’s shortcomings, of course, and Rick never showed resentment toward her. But the sad reality pricked her sense of fairness.
Rick snorted. “You’re right. I don’t understand living in fear of being kidnapped because I had a rich daddy who’d pay my ransom, but dammit, these threats are real. This isn’t about speculation or a mere precaution. Take it seriously. Err on the side of caution, for Willard’s and my sake, if not for your own.”
Emotion suddenly threatened. There was no bitterness in her brother’s tone. He was truly worried. After the first threat, he’d slipped into protective mode, always asking her where she was going and what time he should expect her back.
Still, it wasn’t as if she was being foolish about her safety. She’d taken a self-defense course, and she never went out alone at night. Nothing was likely to happen in broad daylight. Anyway, she refused to hand over her whole life to whoever was behind these threats.
Willard had been eerily quiet and Sydney finally chanced a look at him. He stared at her over steepled fingers. Lines of tension etched his face. She was partly responsible for putting them there. Her decision to split up the company was causing some havoc, but in the long run, she knew everyone would be better off.
He’d changed since her parents’ death. He worked harder, was at the office all the time. He’d assumed full responsibility for both the business and Sydney, even though she constantly assured him she did just fine on her own. Willard needed the break. He’d enjoy retirement. He already had plenty of money, and once Sydney was through, he’d have more than he could spend in three lifetimes.
“I’ll think about it.” She adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. “But right now, I have to run or I’ll be late.”
“Where are you going?”
“None of your business. And I mean that in the nicest way.”
Rick shook his head and slowly got to his feet. He looked tired. He’d been working nonstop trying to learn about the company, and now he was worrying about her.
Impulsively she gave him a peck on the cheek. “I really will think about taking a short vacation.”
His mouth curved in a cynical smile. “Want me to drive you to wherever you’re going?”
“No, thanks.”
Rick grunted and looked at Willard. “I’ll get you a sandwich.”
Willard nodded, but said nothing until Rick left. “Where are you going, Sydney?”
She sighed at his impatient tone. “I have a hair appointment at Divas.”
He didn’t look pleased. “Don’t forget we have a board meeting tonight,” he said, while adjusting the cuffs of his custom-made Egyptian cotton shirt.
“Tonight?” Sydney frowned. “I thought it was tomorrow night.”
“It’s on your calendar.”
“Yeah, but I thought it was…” She shook her head. “I’ll be here.”
“If you have something else planned, I could—”
“No, I was only going to have dinner with Jeff, but we can change it to tomorrow night.”
At the mention of the attorney’s name, Willard’s gray brows came down. “You’re still seeing him?”
“Still? We’ve only had four dates.”
“I don’t like him. He’s a social climber. Probably more interested in your trust fund than you.”
“Thanks.”
“Get that phony wounded look off your face. You know the pitfalls of being in your position. I’m only looking out for your interest, and I tell you, I don’t trust the man.”
“You don’t trust anyone.” The flippant tone she used belied the heaviness in her chest. Willard was wrong. The wounded look wasn’t phony at all. She knew he could be right. It wouldn’t be the first time a man was more interested in her bottom line than her own bottom.
“Good thing, young lady. You’re too naive.”
Sydney made a face. “I’m going to forgive you for being so grumpy and overbearing because I know you have my best interest at heart. But like it or not, I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions.” She blew him a kiss. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll be back in plenty of time for the meeting.”
“How are you getting there?”
She gave him a tolerant smile and left his office before he bombarded her with more questions she had no intention of answering. Besides, he’d have a cow if he found out she’d been taking cabs around town.
It was just so freeing to finally be able to make her own decisions about where she went and how she got there. It didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate his and Rick’s concern. In fact, it had always been Willard and her mother who’d been there for her as a child. Her father had cared for her, in his own self-absorbed way, but it was her mother, Inga, who’d made sure Sydney had all the love and emotional support a child needed to grow up without prejudice or fear and with a keen sense of fairness.
It was the latter that ironically appeared to be getting Sydney into trouble. In her opinion, Wainwright Corporation had become too large, after having gobbled up smaller companies. When one of the senior vice presidents had approached her to allow him and two other executives to buy out their divisions, Sydney agreed and put the same offer on the table to all other division heads.
That’s when the shit hit the fan. Willard told her she was insane. Her brother suggested she not be so impulsive. The union leaders threatened blood would be shed if they were ousted from the Wainwright factories. It all had gotten so complicated, when all she wanted to do was get a tan and count on a date every Saturday night.
The elevator dinged the moment she pressed the button and when the doors slid open, Jeff walked out with a florist’s box of long-stemmed pink roses cradled in his left arm.
He smiled when he saw her. “I was coming by to see you.” He eyed her purse. “On your way out?”
She nodded, her gaze falling to the roses. “I have an appointment.”
“Have time to put these in water?” He leaned in for a kiss.
She gave him her cheek and then ducked his look of disappointment. She wasn’t comfortable with public displays of affection…and certainly not at the office. “May I assume they’re for me?”
He lowered a lazy gaze to the roses. “Possibly.”
She gave him a jab to the ribs that made him grunt. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
Jeff laughed and passed her the box.
She smiled, genuinely touched that he had come across town to hand deliver them. “Actually, I’m late, but Margaret will take care of getting them in water. Hey, take a ride with me uptown. We can talk along the way.”
He held up the briefcase in his right hand. “Sorry, but I’ve got an appointment on the tenth floor in fifteen minutes.”
“Oh.” So he hadn’t made a special trip. It didn’t make the gesture any less sweet.
The elevator doors opened again and Jeff reclaimed the flowers. “Go. I’ll give these to Margaret.”
She slipped into the car before the doors closed again. “Oh, about dinner tonight. I have a board meeting. Can we make it tomorrow night?”
He shrugged. “Sure. I’ll call.”
The doors closed, but not before she saw annoyance enter his eyes. That barely fazed her. However, she wasn’t that disappointed about tonight. Which did bother her.
Jeff was nice looking with a good sense of humor. He was smart, a good dresser, had a terrific job with a prestigious law firm. But deep down, she knew he wasn’t The One.
And dammit. She wasn’t getting any younger.

SYDNEY DASHED INTO the chic salon to find Julie looking at the clock. There was no missing the woman. Her hair was shockingly red and her purple spandex dress so tight it left nothing to the imagination. She had the figure to pull it off, though. When Sydney had first met her in prep school, Julie’s hair had been brown and she’d been a little chubby. Now, she looked as if she’d stepped off the pages of Cosmo.
Julie put her hands on her hips as soon as she saw Syd. “You’re late.”
“Only four minutes.” Sydney moved her hand from behind her back. “And only because I stopped to get you this.”
Julie’s black-rimmed green eyes lit up at the sight of the iced mocha latte and she quickly snatched it out of Syd’s hand. “Okay, I forgive you.”
“Gee, thanks.” Sydney stashed her purse on a shelf next to Julie’s blow-dryer and then took a seat in front of the mirror. She stared at her drab hair color and noticed her complexion was pretty dull, too. She needed to apply more of that self-tanning stuff.
“I hope you’ve cleared at least two hours this afternoon.” Julie shook out a black cape and draped it over Syd, and then frowned. “Maybe you ought to wear a smock today.”
“Two hours? For a trim?”
“I decided to put in some highlights.” Julie picked up a lock of Syd’s hair and inspected it with pursed lips. “I think a nice light ash blond will work.”
“You decided?” She laughed, and jerked her head away. “I’m not ready for highlights. Besides, I don’t have the time.”
“Bull.” Julie brought out a tube of hair color and squirted it into a silver bowl. “Hey, when are you going to introduce me to that brother of yours?”
Syd sighed. “I honestly don’t have time.”
Julie stopped mixing to give her a sour look. “So, what—you think I’m not good enough for the heir apparent?”
“I didn’t deserve that remark.” Syd stiffened. “Anyway, I meant I don’t have time for the highlights.”
The other woman blinked and, muttering a curse, ducked her head. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But that’s what you think.” She tried to keep the hurt from her voice, but she failed. Miserably, by the look of alarm on Julie’s face.
“I don’t. Honest.” Julie shook her head and put down the bowl. “Not you, of all people. You took me under your wing when none of the other girls would give me the time of day.” She ignored Sydney’s dismissive wave. “I’ve never forgotten that, Syd. I swear to God. I’m having a shitty day and I took it out on you.”
“That’s okay. No problem.” Sydney shrugged it off. It really wasn’t a big deal.
Shaking her head, Julie busied herself with mixing and stirring the color. She was still angry with herself, Sydney could tell by the jerky motions she used. Self-reproach was a habit Julie had established early.
Sydney vividly remembered the day they’d met. Julie had been outgoing, full of joie de vivre. They’d both turned fifteen that summer, and Julie had just moved to Plano after her mother had married a prominent attorney she’d met at a restaurant where she waited tables. Life had changed instantly for them.
They’d traded their beat-up, ten-year-old VW for a bronze Mercedes and moved from a one-bedroom apartment downtown to a twenty-room mansion. Next, Julie’s stepfather enrolled her in the same prep school as Sydney, whose snotty classmates had been less than kind.
Julie looked up suddenly, her smile returning. “You’re good people, Syd, even if you are filthy rich.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Julie laughed. “Remember Samantha Bellamy?”
“Please.” Sydney sighed. “Don’t even bring her up.”
“Friggin’ snob. Treated me as though I had some kind of contagious disease. Wouldn’t invite you to her birthday party if you took me, and you told her to go to hell.” She grunted. “Your daddy had more money than all the rest of those goddamn snobs put together.”
“Can we change the subject?”
Julie thoughtfully studied the color she’d mixed. “I’d like to get her in my chair for a couple of hours. Maybe I could send her an offer for a free color.”
Sydney laughed. “Don’t even think about it.”
At least Julie had developed a sense of humor over the whole mess. True, it had been years ago, but the girls had been exceptionally cruel. Sydney simply had been embarrassed. She’d thought she knew those girls, considered several of them among her friends…until she saw how ugly they could be.
She and Julie had become fast friends from that moment on and did everything together. At the close of their senior year everything changed.
Julie’s fairy-tale life ended with her mom and stepfather’s divorce, and she landed back “across the tracks.” Not only that, but Julie had changed. She seemed bitter and hateful, claiming it was her fault but never explaining why.
Sydney had her own theories about the stepfather’s inordinate affection for Julie, but Julie refused to talk about it. In fact, she eventually failed to return Sydney’s phone calls and headed to California.
Julie set the bowl of color aside and put her hands on her hips. “When I get through with you, you are going to look so hot, girlfriend.”
Sydney frowned. “What if I don’t like it? Will you be able to dye it back to my natural color?”
“Back to this mousy brown? Why the hell would you want to do that?”
“I wish you wouldn’t be so coy about your feelings.”
Julie laughed. “You have nondescript brown hair. That’s not exactly front-page news.”
“I’m serious, Jules. What if I hate it?”
“You won’t.” Julie pinched several strands of Sydney’s hair and inspected them.
Oh, God, she had a board meeting to attend. She didn’t want to go looking like some… She jerked when Julie picked up a small paintbrush and put it near Sydney’s hair. “I didn’t say okay yet.”
“Don’t be a chickenshit. This is for your own good.”
“Toni did my hair for years and never suggested highlights.”
“Toni was afraid to say boo to you.”
Sydney frowned. “Why?”
Julie chuckled. “You’re cute, smart, rich, but talk about naive.” With a hand on her shoulder, Julie forced her to sit back. “Who around here is gonna tell a Wainwright what to do?”
“You.”
“Exactly. Now shut up while I do what I do best.”
Sydney bristled as she considered what Julie said. “People aren’t afraid to talk to me.”
Julie rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “If you say so.”
“They aren’t.” Sydney settled back, stewing. She tried her darnedest to be like everyone else. Willard criticized her for it, reminding her she was a Wainwright. But Julie wouldn’t lie. That was the thing Sydney liked best. Julie was a straight-talker.
It was like a miracle when she’d shown up several months ago at the salon Sydney had used for years. They’d both been surprised, but after a few awkward moments, their friendship resumed.
Meeting Julie at fifteen had been a turning point in Sydney’s life. The personal exposure to someone outside her social class had taught Syd more than her four years at Yale. It had taught her that money didn’t just mean power and privilege, but an enormous responsibility toward others.
“Okay, just a few highlights. In the back.”
Julie grinned and separated a strip of Sydney’s bangs.
Sydney sighed.
“Who’s the professional here? Just sit back and tell me about that hunky brother of yours.”
Sydney couldn’t help but smile. After blossoming at sixteen, Julie had always gotten any guy she wanted, and she did it with such relish. “Tell you what. Come over for dinner Saturday night and see for yourself.”
Julie lifted a brow but kept working, inserting the piece of foil under the strands she separated. “So he’s living at the house. I take it he finally has old Willy’s stamp of approval.”
“You can’t blame Willard for checking him out. It was a little odd that Rick showed up after my dad’s death, claiming to be his illegitimate son.”
Julie wrinkled her nose. “It was kind of creepy.”
“Not creepy, just strange. Kind of convenient, with Dad not here to deny the claim, you know?” Sydney shrugged, her gaze glued to Julie’s busy hands. “But somehow I knew Rick would check out. I’m glad, too.”
“You always did have great instincts about people. What about this Jeff guy you’ve been seeing? When do I meet him?”
Sydney groaned. “You’re starting to sound like Willard. I’ll make sure they’re both there on Saturday.”
“Will Willy be there, too?”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Sit still before you make me spill this stuff.” Julie gave her hair a small yank. “He really doesn’t like me. Never has, and after I started working here, he had me checked out, too.”
Sydney gasped. “I don’t believe that.”
“Sit still, dammit.”
“Ouch! Quit yanking so hard.”
“Then stop moving.”
Sydney twisted around in the chair to look Julie in the eyes. “Why do you think he had you checked out?”
A sly smile curved her ruby-tinted lips. “Because I screwed the detective he hired.”
Sydney blinked. “You’re making this up.”
Julie put her hands on either side of Sydney’s head and forced her to face the mirror again. “I am not. Ask Willard. But, God, don’t tell him I slept with the guy or he’ll hire someone else and I’ll have to go through it all over again.”
Sydney stared at her reflection in simmering silence. Willard had always been overprotective, but spying on her friends pushed the limit of Sydney’s patience. She ought to pack up and move to New York. Out of his sight. Away from the Wainwright name.
“I shouldn’t have told you.” Julie stopped fussing with the foil squares and gave her a thoughtful frown. “Don’t blame Willard. It really is a pretty big coincidence that I’d show up in a salon you used after all these years. Don’t you think?”
Syd quickly averted her gaze.
Julie snorted. “It’s okay. I’d be suspicious, too.”
“I’m not suspicious.” She wasn’t. “But I did wonder if you knew I’d been coming here…”
Julie shook her head. “Nope. I knew Divas had an up-scale clientele with prices to match, which meant I could make some serious dough.” She set aside the bowl and brush. “One thing I did learn from old McKenzie was how to appreciate the finer things in life. Paying for them is something else.”
Sydney was startled to hear her mention her former stepfather. Even before the divorce, speaking his name was taboo. Julie’s hatred for him had exploded so quickly that Syd had wondered if something more had been going on than Julie had revealed.
“Hey, want me to add some purple tint?” Julie asked, and Syd made a move to get out of the chair. “Only kidding. Sit still and I’ll have you out of here in under two hours.”
Sydney smiled, glad Julie had come back into her life. She needed someone quirky to offset the staidness that accompanied the Wainwright name. Someone comfortable enough to point out Syd had mousy brown hair.
They chatted nonstop for the next two hours, Syd begging unsuccessfully to face the mirror while Julie blew her hair dry.
Sydney was actually starting to get a little nervous when Julie finally said, “Voila, check out this masterpiece.”
She twirled the chair so that Sydney faced her reflection. Her hand automatically flew to her hair. “You cut it different.”
“Did I?” Julie grinned. “Faboo, isn’t it?”
Sydney stared at the unfamiliar image. Golden highlights framed her face, making her complexion look brighter. The style was artfully tousled, kind of fringed and shaggy on the side instead of her usual blunt bob. “Wow! Is that me?”
“You like?”
“I think so.”
Julie issued a sound of disgust. “It’s terrific. You’ll turn every head from here to your office.”
Right. Sydney turned from side to side, and then used the hand mirror Julie gave her. “I do look pretty sophisticated.” She leaned toward the mirror for a closer look. “You did good.”
“Yes, I did.” Julie pulled the cape off Syd. “Now, get out of my chair. I have another client and your ride is waiting.”
“My ride?” She slid off the chair and grabbed her purse.
“I had the receptionist call you a car so you wouldn’t have to take a cab.”
“And if I wanted to take a cab?”
“Tough. That’s one of those fou-fou things they do around here that makes a friggin’ haircut cost three times what it should.”
Sydney laughed and pressed some bills into Julie’s hand. Thankfully, she didn’t argue about the tip like she had the past two times. “See you for dinner on Saturday, huh?” Sydney said as she took one last look at her reflection.
“Sure.” Julie’s half shrug was noncommittal.
“I’ll make sure Willard isn’t there.”
“You look terrific. Now, get out of here.”
Julie’s next client approached, and Sydney stepped aside. She wanted to encourage Julie to come to dinner but it would be too awkward. Instead, she left to pay her bill.
A black Lincoln Town Car with tinted windows was waiting just outside the door and she quickly got in without getting her hair too mussed up. “I’m going to the Wainwright building on—”
“I know where it is.” The driver’s voice was deep and raspy and sent an odd shiver down Sydney’s spine.
She sank back against the seat and stared at the back of his dark head. He barely cleared the top of the car, which meant he had to be pretty tall. The usual white cotton shirt most drivers wore stretched across his broad shoulders. His hair was long, a little too long, enough to make a ponytail, she guessed. Not that it mattered but…
“Excuse me.” She snapped out of her daydreaming and squinted out the window. They were on the freeway. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“No, we’re not,” he said in that deep husky voice.
And then she heard the definitive click of all four locks engaging.

Chapter Two
Fear tightened Sydney’s chest. Bile rose in her throat. She stared at his large tanned hand gripping the wheel. “You’re going the wrong way,” she said again, her voice sounding pathetically, maddeningly weak.
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. They were icy blue. “As long as you cooperate.”
“What do you want?”
“Just your cooperation.”
“I have money…cash in my purse, and credit cards.” She fumbled with the stubborn catch on her pocketbook. “You can have them all.” Her frantic gaze flew to the window. They were already passing the city limits. “Just leave me here on the side of the road.”
His laugh was humorless, dark. “Sweetheart, some things money can’t buy.”
Nausea rolled in her stomach, but she tried to stay focused. There was a narrow space between the pair of tinted glass dividers separating them. If she could wedge her hand between them…
Her purse clasp finally gave, startling her. A tube of lipstick and a roll of breath mints spilled out. She reached in for her wallet, hoping she could still tempt him with cash. That’s when she felt it.
The barrel of the small gun Rick had bought her.
She’d argued with him at the time. She’d always been opposed to carrying a weapon of any kind, but she’d finally given in to placate him.
The pistol was in a separate pocket and she slowly disengaged the zipper. With her other hand, she fisted a wad of bills, and then held the cash up for his view.
“Look,” she said, hoping he’d reconsider. If not, it was still a good distraction. “There’s about five hundred dollars here.”
His eyes again met hers in the mirror. The corners crinkled. “I already have you and the money.”
She finally worked the gun free, dropped the money and pointed the pistol with both shaky hands at his head. “But I have this.”
A brief look of surprise entered his eyes. He said nothing but swerved the car off the freeway onto the shoulder. He didn’t stop, but drove through the tall grass toward a dense patch of trees and shrubs.
Two cars flew by them down the freeway. They didn’t look as though they planned to stop. Fear clogged her throat and she had to swallow hard in order to speak. “Stop right now or I swear I’ll shoot.”
He drove another ten yards and parked the car in the middle of a grove of oak trees, which effectively concealed them from other motorists.
He threw open his door and got out, and then opened hers. Without a word, he reached in and grabbed one of her wrists and dragged her out. Startled, she almost dropped the gun.
But she managed to hold on to it and as soon as her feet were planted in the grass, she aimed the barrel at him. “I mean it.”
“Or what?” One side of his mouth lifted in a cocky grin. His chin and jaw were dark with stubble, his long hair unruly, his amused blue eyes boring into her. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned.
“Or I’ll shoot that smug smile off your face.” Hell, she should have said goddamn smile. Julie would have. It sounded more forceful.
He didn’t so much as flinch. He just stared at her, until his gaze dropped to her chest. It stayed there a long time before he lazily let it roam her waist, her hips…the juncture of her thighs.
“I mean it.” She swallowed. “You dumb son of a bitch.”
His gaze shot up to her face, and before she knew what happened, he yanked the gun out of her hand.
“If you wanna shoot someone, sweetheart, you’d better release the safety first.” He inspected the pistol. “Bullets would help, too.”
He reached behind and stuck the gun in the back pocket of his jeans. From his other pocket, he produced a pair of handcuffs.
“Oh, no.” She took a step back. “Please don’t.”
He didn’t even bother to stop her. He had on cowboy boots. She had on heels. He knew she wouldn’t get far.
“It was your choice.” He slowly unfastened the cuffs, as if he were deliberately trying to torture her.
Even though she knew it was useless, she took another step back. “Just tell me what you want. We can work something out.”
He smiled and advanced. “Come on, Sydney, a bright girl like you can figure it out.”
He’d used her name.
She stood frozen, numb with fear, the slim hope that this was a random mugging shriveling inside her. Her knees weakened and her legs started to wobble.
The man stopped directly in front of her, inches away, his breath scented with the sweet surreal smell of butterscotch. Something odd flickered in his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her. She started to struggle, but he held her to his chest. Belying his cool exterior, his heart pounded against her ear.
“Settle down. I’m just trying to keep you from ending up in a heap,” he said, and loosened his hold when she pulled back.
She lifted her chin and willed her legs to stop shaking. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” He reached around her and caught her wrists.
Her breasts crushed against his hard chest. “Oh, please don’t cuff them behind my back. You know I can’t get away.”
He stared down at her, his gaze wary and measuring. He was taller than she first thought…at least six-two because she was five-five and he towered over her.
“Okay.” He released her wrists and stepped back.
“Thank you.” Her voice had come out barely above a whisper. She pushed her hair back and was about to smooth her skirt when he grabbed her hands again. “What are you doing?”
He slapped the cuffs around one wrist and then the other. “I’m not going to leave you free to bushwhack me.”
“But I—”
He put the rough pad of his thumb against her lips. “One more word and I cuff those pretty little hands of yours behind your back.”
She swallowed and remained silent.
His gaze stayed on her face as he dragged his thumb across the seam of her lips before lowering it. “Get back in the car.”
She hesitated, wanting to ask where they were going and who he represented, but the warning gleam in his eyes stopped her cold. Instead, she went back to the car and climbed into the backseat. When her skirt rode up high on her thigh, his blatant gaze followed the hem until she tugged it down.
A mocking smile curved his mouth. “Don’t worry, Sydney, your virtue isn’t what I’m after.”
“What is it? What do you want?”
“For you to keep your mouth shut.” He grabbed her purse, then slammed the door and got back behind the wheel.
Sydney’s angry glare seared the back of his head. It didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He steered them back toward the highway, eyed her in the mirror while he waited for a group of cars to pass, and then eased in behind a truck.
She thought about trying to flag someone down, but the windows were heavily tinted and she figured she’d just end up ticking him off. She could only hope he wasn’t stupid enough to harm her. If a ransom was what he was after, he’d have to keep her alive. At least for a while.
She shuddered at the thought of what could happen once he got the money. Oh, God, she didn’t want to die. She wanted to get married, have children, her own home. She wanted to go to a PTA meeting. Hell, she couldn’t die without ever having had great sex.
Forcing herself to calm down, she took several deep breaths. She had to clear her head. Negative thinking wasn’t going to help her find a means of escape.
From the self-defense course she’d taken, she recalled the instructor advising the class to humanize the situation. Force the attacker to view you as a human being and not an object. It was worth a shot.
She cleared her throat. “What’s your name?”
His eyes appeared in the rear view mirror. “Why?”
“I’ve got to call you something.”
“I’m sure you’ve come up with several names by now.”
“At least.”
Again, the skin around his eyes crinkled. So, he had a sense of humor. “Luke.”
“Short for Lucas?”
“No.”
Sydney sank back, thinking of what else she should ask or say. She wasn’t going to get anywhere fast if he kept giving her single word answers. “Can you tell me who you work for?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so,” she muttered. “How about where we’re going?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Personal. She needed to get personal so he’d see her as a person. “How old are you?”
In the rearview mirror, she saw his dark brows draw together. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I was just curious. I’ll be twenty-five next month. It’s kind of a milestone, don’t you think?”
He shook his head and stared at the road.
Let him think she was a nut. At least he’d be thinking of her as a person. “My godfather is planning this big party he doesn’t think I know about. I hate those things. I’m seriously thinking about escaping to San Francisco or New York for the weekend. Knowing that crowd, they won’t even miss me.”
He darted a glance at her and then returned his attention to the road as he veered off an exit ramp. Unfamiliar with the area, she squinted to see where they were going, but it was too late. She’d missed the name of the exit.
Dammit. She should be paying attention. If she had the opportunity to use a phone, she’d have to be able to give information. She looked out helplessly as the landscape became more and more dense with trees. Not a single car had passed since they left the freeway.
“Are you from Dallas?” she asked, annoyed that her teeth chattered. “You have a little bit of an accent.”
The warning look he gave her with those steely blue eyes made her pause. Okay, maybe that was too personal. Obviously, he wouldn’t give her that kind of information about himself. “How much ransom are you going to ask for?”
The car jerked when he pulled it over to the shoulder. Unprepared, she fell roughly against the door. There’d be one heck of a bruise on her arm.
He got out before she righted herself, opened the door and leaned in, bringing his face close to hers. He gripped her upper arm and yanked her even closer. “Do I have to gag you?”
She had to tilt her head back to avoid smashing her nose into his chin. His breath, warm and sweet-smelling, trespassed on her skin. She swallowed and shook her head.
His eyes bore into hers. “I didn’t hear you.”
She swallowed again. “No.”
His grip on her arm loosened and he rubbed his thumb idly just beneath her sleeve hem. Irritation simmered in his eyes, and then he abruptly let her go. “Keep your mouth shut. Got it?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
He drew back, and then hesitated. He leaned in again and she jumped. “Look,” he said, keeping a little more distance this time, his husky voice soft, soothing. “You’re not going to get hurt. Just keep quiet.”
She nodded again, hating the fear that clawed at her, robbing her of speech and rational thought. Never would she have guessed she’d react this way. All the times Willard had warned her of something like this happening, she’d balked, telling herself exactly how she’d handle the situation. Reality was nothing like her best intentions.
Relief eased her when he finally turned to get back behind the wheel, except he reached in for something and returned.
She tried not to cower and sat perfectly still.
“Here.” He held out a bottle of Evian.
She stared at it a moment before lifting her bound hands to take it. “Thank you.”
It was obvious she wouldn’t be able to unscrew the cap, but she wouldn’t ask him to do it. She just wanted him to get back in the front seat, away from her.
He grunted something that sounded like a curse and grabbed the water. After he freed the cap, he passed the bottle back to her. “We’ll be at the cabin soon.”
Cabin? She stared off into the woods, all hope of attracting someone’s attention fading as quickly as the late afternoon sun.
He got back in and started to drive, his attention to the speed limit somewhat lax. Half the water she tried to drink missed her mouth and ended up down the front of her favorite peach silk blouse. No doubt it was ruined. But of course, that was the least of her worries.
She tried to pay attention to her surroundings, but it didn’t help. Nothing but woods stretched in every direction. She didn’t have a clue where they were. She glanced at her watch. They were already almost an hour outside of Dallas.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled off onto a dirt road with enough dips and ruts to make her stomach roll. She swallowed hard against the nausea, and then took another sip of water. When a cabin appeared in a small clearing, she didn’t know if she were more relieved or nervous.
He stopped the car a few feet from the tiny front porch, got out and opened her door. “I wouldn’t bother screaming. There’s no one around for miles.”
She hesitated, sweeping a gaze around the shabby condition of the property. Half the first step up to the porch had rotted away, and a couple of floorboards were missing near the faded orange lawn chair sitting by the door.
“Sorry the accommodations don’t suit you.” He held out his hand to help her out. “But you’ll be comfortable enough inside.”
His mocking tone made her straighten, and she scooted across the seat to get out…without his help. Except her skirt slid up her thigh, giving him quite an eyeful.
He wasn’t shy about taking it, either. His gaze wrapped around her legs before she was able to tug the hem back down. When he realized that she didn’t want his help, he stepped aside and folded his arms across his chest.
Muscle corded and stretched up his exposed forearms to where he’d turned back his shirtsleeves. Right below his elbow, a long scar marred his tanned skin. It was straight and precise, as if it were made by a knife, but jagged enough that no doctor would have made the incision.
At the thought, she fought back a shudder. Her circle of friends did not include anyone like him. He was a physical man. She could see that just by the way he stood there, his arms folded across his broad chest, his legs parted as he rested confidently on the heels of his tan cowboy boots. Problems were likely solved with his hands and not intellectually. She’d do well to remember that.
No designer label tagged his faded jeans, either. They were worn, soft looking, until they fitted him like a kid glove. Worn enough that she could see how the muscle bulged above his knee and traveled up his thigh. Her gaze snagged on his fly, and she quickly looked away, keeping her eyes averted as she set her feet on the ground.
She made sure her footing was solid before she stood. Only then did she look up at him. He was staring at her chest. She had modest-sized breasts at best; nothing a man generally gave a second look at. She glanced down to see what had grabbed his attention.
The front of her blouse was soaked, the now transparent silk clinging to her pink lace bra. In the center of each breast, her nipples were dark and budding—and clearly visible.
She gasped and turned to the side. But not before she caught the annoyed look in his eyes.
“If you want to stand here all night, I could cuff you to the car door.”
His voice was gruff, impatient, and she moved toward the cabin without looking at him. She hesitated when she got to the rotting first step.
Behind her, she heard the trunk open. Paper rustled, and then something thudded to the ground. She glanced over her shoulder. He was taking a bag out of the trunk. Without giving the impulse a second thought, she kicked off her heels and dashed toward a thicket of trees.
She’d made it just a few yards when he grabbed her around the waist and they both hit the ground. His body pressed hers into the hard earth. She clawed the grass, struggling to get out from under him. Dirt packed under her nails, and her knees stung where gravel scraped her skin.
“Stupid, Sydney, very stupid.” He got up and yanked her upright. He pulled her so close she had to tilt her head back. “How far did you think you’d get?”
She forced her eyes to meet the fire in his and hoped he didn’t smell her fear. “You didn’t really expect me to roll over and play dead, did you?”
“Look.” He fisted her blouse and brought her closer. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He stared down at her, and she flinched when he raised his other hand. He flicked some grass off her cheek. “Unless I have to.”
“That’s supposed to be reassuring?”
“Just cooperate, dammit.” He let her go so abruptly she stumbled backward, her cuffed hands useless to help maintain her balance. He made no move to catch her. “Get inside.”
Her shoulder hit a tree trunk hard, but at least she stayed on her feet. She bit back the remark that nearly glided off her tongue. It was a snooty thought that surprised her. But he seemed just so damned earthy. Primal. He was out of her experience, and she hated feeling at such a loss.
Instead, she edged toward the porch, stooping to pick up her black Ferragamo pumps and discreetly spitting out the dirt in her mouth. The rotting steps were tricky, but she gingerly maneuvered them without ending up on her fanny. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it with her toe. It creaked open farther and she peeked inside before crossing the threshold.
The room was small. Nothing separated the kitchen area from the old army-green couch or the unmade double bed. There was one door that she assumed led to a bathroom. As she got farther inside, she was surprised by the cleanliness of everything from the ancient wood floor to the single kitchen countertop. No dust or grime was visible, and in fact, the portable refrigerator was smudge-free and shiny. Odd.
Sydney was a bigger mess. Mud coated her blouse and skin, thanks to the water she’d spilled. A few gobs were in her hair—her newly shampooed and styled hair. Darn it.
When she heard Luke step up on the porch, she moved quickly to give him a wide berth. She saw then that the door did lead to a bathroom. An absurdly tiny one, but at least it had a tub and a door.
“I have some things here for you.”
His voice startled her, even though she knew he was inside. The place was just so damn small, and he was so big. She glanced at the bed again. Only one. A double. She hoped he wasn’t…
“Are you listening?”
She slid him a glance and nodded.
He held a medium-sized black leather bag. As if reading her thoughts, his gaze went briefly to the bed, then back to her. “There are a few shirts and shorts in here and some toiletries. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“How considerate.”
At her sarcasm, his left brow went up. “I’ll get us something to eat in about an hour.”
“You leaving?”
For the first time, his mouth curved slightly, and his gaze lowered. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here all night.”
Sydney swallowed. “There’s only one bed.”
He glanced at it in mock surprise. “So there is.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“Right next to you, darlin’.” His smile broadened as he tossed the bag on the bed. “We’re having sandwiches tonight.” He eyed her with misgiving. “Unless you know how to cook.”
She gritted her teeth. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“You saw it.”
“Can you unlock the handcuffs?”
“Nope.”
“But we’re stuck in the middle of God knows where.” She sounded breathless, afraid. She hated that.
“If you need help, just holler.”
Like hell. She turned away and unzipped the black bag. She took the first shirt on top. It was denim. Not one of his, but brand new, a size small—something he might have bought for her. Next, she pulled out a hairbrush and toothbrush, and wondered if all kidnappers went through this much trouble.
She kept the things away from her wet, muddy blouse, and without looking at him, headed inside the bathroom. The back of the toilet was the only available surface, so she draped the shirt on the doorknob and set the brushes near the sink faucet. When she tried to swing the door shut, something blocked it from closing.
Poking her head around, she saw the toe of Luke’s boot pressed to the bottom of the door. Her gaze slowly traveled up the worn denim covering his leg, to the white shirt he’d partially unbuttoned, to the exposed wedge of smooth muscled chest, to the strong, square, stubbled jaw.
She finally met his eyes just as he said, “Leave it open.”

Chapter Three
Sydney stared back at him. “What did you say?”
“Leave the door open.”
“Why?”
“In case you get stupid again.”
“I’ve learned my lesson.” At his implacable expression, her heart pounded and her palms grew damp. He couldn’t possibly expect her to leave herself that vulnerable. “There’s only one small window in here—”
“Big enough for you to crawl out.”
“It’s too narrow.”
He ran his gaze down her body, lingering around her hips, studying her every curve until her insides trembled. “The door stays open.”
“I can’t go to the bathroom with you out here and— I can’t do it.”
“We’re going to be here a week. Get over it.”
“A week?” She swallowed, but her mouth was so dry the act was painful. “And then what?” She tried another painful swallow. “Are you going to kill me?”
His brows came down in impatience. “I already said I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Wh-what…” She stopped and took a quick breath, despising how weak she sounded. “What are you going to do with me?”
He studied her a moment. “Nothing, as long as you cooperate.”
“But—”
“No more talking.”
She had no choice. She had to believe he wouldn’t hurt her, as foolish or naive as that seemed. Backing up, she caught her bedraggled reflection in the mirror above the sink. Mud smeared her cheek. She looked at him again. He had smudges on his shirt and dirt in his hair. “Can’t you just bolt the window from the outside?”
He laughed. It was more a grunt. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in any of your goods.”
He walked away as if the matter were closed, and she stood watching him, horrified that his demeaning remark stung. Anger simmered with the fear churning in her stomach. At least he’d moved away from her.
“By the way.” At the kitchen counter, he began unloading a paper sack. “If I so much as hear the door creak, I’ll take it off the hinges.”
“Why are you being so cruel?”
He looked sharply at her.
She cleared her throat, hoping to sound more assertive. “You already have me. It’s unnecessary to be so…unkind.”
Frowning, he shoved the sack aside. “Cruel?”
“Why do I need to be handcuffed and have the door open? Are you that afraid of me?”
His sudden bark of laughter startled her. “All right.” He dug into his jeans’ pocket, and her gaze helplessly drew to the worn denim straining across his fly.
She blinked and raised her gaze, unsettled by the jittery feeling in her tummy.
He produced a small key and started toward her. Her first impulse was to run; instead, she stepped outside and held up her bound hands, anxious to be free of the cuffs. He scanned the front of her muddy, wet shirt before inserting the key. “Do anything foolish again, and I’ll—” His gaze fastened on the inside of her wrists. “What the hell?”
He quickly unlocked the cuffs and picked up her right hand, turning it over to expose the ugly rash spreading across her skin. “These cuffs weren’t that tight.”
His eyes met hers and she was amazed to see concern softening his expression. He looked back down at her wrist, then picked up her other hand and inspected the reddening skin there.
“I’m allergic to some kinds of metal,” she said, alarmed at how close he was, how gently he soothed the surrounding skin with the pad of his thumb.
He lifted his gaze to hers, a mixture of suspicion and confusion darkening his eyes. “You should have told me.”
She shrugged, but hope bubbled inside her. He really didn’t intend to hurt her. He wouldn’t be concerned otherwise.
Abruptly, he dropped her hands and jerked his head toward the bathroom. “Go ahead. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“You won’t—” She cut herself off. It was silly to ask him not to peek.
After giving her a long, hard look, he turned away.
Sydney hurried back inside the bathroom and almost closed the door out of habit. She stopped herself, convinced he’d have no qualms about doing exactly what he said he would. Unable to resist a final glance, she saw him busy unloading the grocery sack, facing away from her.
She’d started to unbutton her blouse when she realized that she needed a bath. Mud was caked and drying in some uncomfortable places. But with the door open? Not in this lifetime.
“Luke?” Saying his name felt odd. Too intimate.
“Yeah?”
“I need to take a bath.”
“Good idea.”
Anger coiled in her belly. She hated having to practically ask his permission to do something so personal, and then get an editorial. “I can’t do it with the door open.”
His sigh was loud, impatient. “Too bad.”
She could get around a bath by washing at the sink. Certainly not her preference but under the circumstances…
“And don’t think about skipping the bath. I don’t want you messing up the sheets the first night here.”
Tempted to give him an obscene hand sign she’d never given anyone in her life, she gritted her teeth. He didn’t have to know what she was doing in here. She’d use the tub, all right, by sitting on the edge…with her clothes on. She kicked aside the bath rug and leaned over to turn on the faucet. It wouldn’t budge. She sat, hoping for better leverage. Still no luck.
“It’s a little tricky.” Luke’s voice directly behind her made her jump. “Let me get it.”
She started to move out of the way, but he reached over her. His shoulder brushed her breast and she stiffened. Oblivious to the contact, he worked at trying to get the spigot to turn. Muscles corded and bunched on his arm. She could smell his heat, feel the powerful energy he radiated; to her absolute shame, she had an undeniable feminine reaction.
“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to move.”
She abruptly raised her gaze to his. An odd little gleam lurked there. Amusement, perhaps? She took a deep, steadying breath and nearly shoved him aside. “I was trying to do that before you crowded me.” Shoving, however, would require touching. She straightened her spine. “Excuse me, please.”
One side of his mouth lifted as he stepped back and motioned her around him. “That’s far enough,” he said, when she backed out of the door. “I’d hate to have to cuff you to the towel rack.”
That made her plant her feet, and she absently rubbed her reddened wrists. She didn’t want those cuffs on again. She’d cooperate all right, unless the perfect opportunity to escape presented itself. God, she hoped she wasn’t wrong, but she truly believed he wouldn’t harm her. This guy didn’t seem to be any ordinary thug. Her intuition told her otherwise.
He finally got the faucet turned, and water trickled slowly into the tub. It was clear, as though someone had run it recently. Luke turned the spigot some more, and the water pressure increased.
“It’s going to take about a minute to warm up.” He straightened and moved back. She ducked out of his way. He looked over at her, his gaze roaming her body. “It should be ready by the time you undress.”
It wasn’t an insolent look, or even a suggestive one, but it gave her goose bumps. “Thank you.”
“When you’re done, I’ll take my shower while the water’s still hot,” he said, and she must have shown some kind of reaction because the amusement was back in his eyes.
She stepped around him to go back into the bathroom and then turned to look pointedly at him.
“You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” he said with a mocking smile and headed toward the kitchen area.
Sydney resisted temptation and kept her mouth shut. She scooted as far away from the door as possible and unbuttoned her blouse. Across her chest there were several small red blotches. Nerves did that to her sometimes. Sitting in cool water would help, but having to take off all her clothes with an open door would probably produce another crop of hives.
Quickly, she shrugged out of her blouse and slid off her skirt, casting several glances out the door. Luke was nowhere in sight. Even so, she left her bra and panties on. There wasn’t much to the scraps of peach-colored silk and lace; wet, they’d be totally transparent. Still, it made her feel less vulnerable to keep them on.
She adjusted the spigot to keep the water from getting too warm, and when it tested perfect, she splashed water on her face and chest, letting the tepid water soothe her fevered skin.
“Are you decent?”
Luke’s voice was entirely too close and she looked around for something to cover herself. “No!” Her blouse was just out of reach. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”
“I forgot to give you a towel.”
“Leave it outside the door.”
“I’ll toss it on the sink.”
“No, just—”
His arm appeared, and panicked, she slid down into the claw foot tub. But he merely laid the navy blue towel on the corner of the sink and then withdrew. She couldn’t see the rest of him, but knowing he was that close was unnerving.
“Did I leave you soap?”
God, couldn’t he just go! She straightened a little to check the sink and found nothing. The soap dish for the tub had…
She screamed.
“Sydney?” Luke came through the door like a rocket. “Sydney?”
“Get out!”
He stood over her, his gaze sweeping her body. “What the hell is wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her crossed arms seemed useless under his piercing blue eyes. “It’s a spider, but it’s dead. Go.”
“What’s that?” He stared at the blotches on her chest.
“Nothing. Please leave.”
His eyes met hers, and she was surprised to see uncertainty etched in his face. “You need something for it?”
She blinked. This might be the opportunity she needed. “Yes…medicine. I’ll get horribly sick without it.”
His brows furrowed slightly, and then his expression relaxed. “Sorry, sweetheart, you’re a lousy liar.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll give you ten minutes. And then I come in after you.”
His gaze lowered to her crossed arms again before he turned and walked out.

LUKE CUT INTO the tomato and nearly took the tip of his thumb off. He cursed loudly and threw aside the knife. Meat and cheese were all anyone needed in a damn sandwich, anyway. If it was good enough for him, it was good enough for Sydney Wainwright.
She wasn’t what he’d expected. She didn’t look or sound or smell rich. Maybe because she’d always been rolling in dough. Not like the Hollywood nouveau riche he was used to. The kind that had to let everyone know they had more than you. She hadn’t even complained about being allergic to the cuffs. That had shocked the hell out of him.
No matter. He was being paid well for this job and that’s all he cared about. After he collected the other half of his fee, he’d think about a short trip to Brazil. Settling old scores always helped him to sleep better.
He finished making the sandwiches and sealed them in plastic. Next, he got out a couple of cold colas and a beer. Sydney had been in the tub for almost fifteen minutes. He really ought to yank her out so she’d know he meant business, but he hadn’t counted on her breaking out in a nervous rash.
He swore to himself. That better be all it was. His gaze wandered toward the bathroom at the same moment she stepped out of the tub. He knew because he saw her reflection in the mirror as her head came up. Taking a pull of beer, he started to turn away, but caught a glimpse of her bare breasts.
Small, but round and full, they stood out firm, crowned by two large rosy nipples. They were damn near perfect. He swallowed and told himself to look away. It was the decent thing to do.
But he stared, until his body began to tighten and blood rushed to his groin. That jerked some sense into him, and he turned away with a vicious curse. He downed the rest of the bottle of beer and then splashed some cold water on his face from the kitchen sink.
What the hell was wrong with him? He knew better than to let his guard down, to let personal feelings separate him from good sense. Sydney Wainwright wasn’t a woman. She was a job. And he wasn’t about to screw himself out of a bundle just because he was horny.
“Luke?”
He pushed away from the sink and turned around. “What?”
At his snarl, she jumped. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup and she looked young. Innocent. The denim shirt he’d picked up for her was a size small and still a little big on her. “I’m done in the bathroom.”
“Good.” He glanced around for a place to put her while he showered. “Come here.”
She hesitated, her eyes widening slightly, and then she took a step toward him. “What?”
He tested the handle of the refrigerator. Too flimsy. The microwave wouldn’t work either. If she had a mind to, she could pick the whole thing up and take off.
He swept a gaze around the rest of the room. “Looks like I’m going to have to tie you to the bedpost.”
“Excuse me?”
“While I shower.”
“You’re going to put the cuffs on me again?” She started rubbing her wrists.
“Did I say that?” His mood had gone south, and he still had one hell of a long week ahead of him. “Get over there.”
She cast a sidelong glance at the bed and then looked back at him with those big doe eyes. “Why the bed?”
He pulled out the long red scarf he’d found in the closet. “Move.”
She stumbled backward, her fearful gaze fastened on the scarf. “What’s that for?”
Luke had a good mind to scare the daylights out of her, but the way she visibly swallowed and the heaving of her chest told him she was frightened enough. “You want me to use this or the cuffs?”
Her face relaxed. “The scarf.”
“Then move.”
“Look.” She pointed to the only kitchen cabinet. “Why can’t you use that?”
He shook the handle. It seemed sturdy enough, and unlike the cuffs, the scarf could slip through it. “Okay.”
She slowly approached and held out a hand. It shook slightly. He ignored her trembling and grabbed her other hand and wove the scarf between her wrists.
“You’re tying them both up?” She tried to pull back.
He tied her to the handle, and then gave an extra tug to be sure the scarf was tight enough. “You think I should leave you a free hand?”
“Just so I can have some water.”
“Right.” He started unbuttoning his shirt, and her gaze flew to his chest. “You can have all the water you want once I’m through.”
“Through?” Her voice cracked.
“With my shower.”
“Oh.” She leaned a hip against the counter, her relief so plain he almost smiled.
“Sydney?” He lifted her chin with his forefinger.
Her eyes widened.
“Don’t think about trying to escape.”
She shook her head and jerked away from his touch.
“Good girl.” He shrugged out of his shirt. Her gaze immediately went to the undone snap of his Levi’s, and she blinked.
Unable to resist, he started unzipping his fly before he turned away. A bright blush filled her cheeks and she quickly averted her eyes.
Laughing, he headed for the bathroom.
Sydney was so angry she almost forgot to breathe. The heat stinging her cheeks no longer had anything to do with embarrassment. She waited until he’d disappeared into the bathroom, and then she started twisting her hands like crazy.
It was no use. He’d tied the scarf too tightly, and she was succeeding only in making her skin raw. She sank against the counter and stared at the open bathroom door. She figured Luke had already gotten into the tub, and if she didn’t free herself now, it would be too late. But then she caught his reflection in the mirror.
He was turned toward the tub so she could only see his profile. The unguarded pose fascinated her and she stared with new interest at the thoughtful furrow of his brow as he appeared to be fiddling with something. The showerhead, probably. It hadn’t looked as though it had been used in a while.
When he reached up to make an adjustment, Syd got quite a view of his lower chest and stomach, the arrow of hair pointing lower. The same fluttery feeling she’d had earlier returned to her belly. Luke wasn’t in any better shape than her personal trainer, but Larry sure never made her feel kind of squishy.
Maybe because Larry was gay.
At least he wasn’t a kidnapper.
She shuddered at the reminder, but still kept her gaze trained on Luke as he stepped back and unconsciously rubbed his chest and then his beard-roughened jaw. He leaned toward the mirror to look at his face.
His eyes slowly met hers.
She heard his curse even though his reflection promptly disappeared. Obviously he knew she was watching him. A second later, he came through the door, a white towel wrapped around his hips, thunder in his face.
Sydney tried not to cower. “I wasn’t watching you,” she said, as he roughly yanked the scarf loose. “I swear I wasn’t. I was only—”
She frowned. If she could see him from this position in the kitchen, then he obviously had seen… “You bastard!”
Amusement briefly replaced the scowl on his face, and then he dragged her to the bed and tied one of her wrists to the post. She didn’t bother struggling. He’d already tied the knot tighter than necessary, enough to make her skin sting.
He still said nothing, but by the way he clenched his jaw, she knew he was pretty damn angry. Too bad. She wasn’t thrilled, either. Who knows how much he saw?
Finally, he stood back. The towel had slipped a little and Sydney had trouble keeping her gaze raised…until he pointed a finger in her face. “Don’t move. Not one muscle, or I’ll have you trussed tighter than a whore’s corset.”
She shrunk back and shook her head. “I won’t,” she whispered, and then waited silently for him to leave.
Her heart still pounded and she tried to calm herself by recalling what he’d said. A whore’s corset? What an odd term. Made her wonder about his slight accent again. Maybe he was Cajun, but if so, what did he have to do with the unions in Dallas?
It took her a good minute to realize he’d only tied one of her wrists. Probably because he’d been so angry. Or maybe he thought she was too frightened to try anything. He wouldn’t be too far off the mark on that account…if she weren’t so desperate.
She rotated her wrist and winced with pain. It didn’t matter. She had to try. Slowly, she reached up with her other hand while keeping an eye on the bathroom door. The binding was so tight it was impossible for her to slip even one finger between the fabric.
Finally, after two broken fingernails, she worked her little finger into the knot. Slowly, painfully, with no awareness of how much time passed, she began to loosen it. Twice she had to slow down her breathing and force herself to concentrate. Freedom seemed so close she could almost taste it.
With one more thrust of her finger, the knot loosened and she quickly freed her hand while trying to sit up.
“Shit!”
Her gaze flew toward the bathroom.
Luke stood naked, his tanned body damp and glistening. She sucked in a breath and tried to scramble off the bed. But he was too quick.
He lunged across the mattress, caught her around the waist and flipped her onto her back. And then he swung one of his powerful, muscled legs over her hips and straddled her while he readied the scarf.
His sex lay heavy in the valley between her ribs, half resting against her left breast.
She swallowed, closed her eyes, and prayed.

Chapter Four
Luke cursed under his breath. “Stop it.”
Sydney heard every pithy word and slowly opened her eyes, and tried to keep her gaze lifted to his face. “Wh-what?”
“You’re shaking so damn hard I can’t tie this.” He yanked the scarf tight.
She jerked from the pressure. “It isn’t my fault.”
“The hell it isn’t.” He glared down at her and when she turned away, used her chin to force her gaze to his. “I told you to cooperate and you wouldn’t get hurt.”
She blinked and tried not to think about his warm naked flesh pressed against her belly and her breast. “I’m sorry. I—I wasn’t trying to get away. I just wanted to get some water.”
A humorless smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Right.”
She took a shuddering breath, the pressure of his weight making it difficult to breathe deeply. “What are you going to do to me?”
His brows furrowed slightly. Then he eased off, dazedly, almost as if he’d forgotten that he was naked and pinning her to the mattress with his body. “I don’t know.”
She lowered her lashes. Not that he seemed bothered by his nudity. “I’m sorry,” she said, again. “I won’t try anything.”
“Damn right.” He leaned over and cinched the scarf tighter.
She gasped. Not in pain. Semiaroused, his sex brushed her arm, swung perilously close to her face.
“Stay put, Sydney. Or you’ll get more than a warning next time.” He meaningfully held her gaze for a long, agonizing moment and then let his eyes briefly roam her breasts and hips before turning away and heading back toward the bathroom.
He had a perfectly sculpted backside—like those guys in the beefcake calendars. He either had a lot of time to work out or was into athletics. Of course, not having an honest job allowed time to work out.
She closed her eyes and tried deep, even breathing. Was she going insane? She didn’t care about this man’s body or how he spent his time. He’d taken her by force. He’d threatened her. She didn’t know that he wouldn’t harm her. She could cooperate, follow his instruction to the letter, and he could still kill her.
She shivered and drew her knees up to her chest, curling up as best she could, even though her raised arm ached. She blinked, painfully recalling another time she’d claimed this position and refused to get out of bed for three days. She’d finally forced herself up to go to her parents’ funeral.
Of course, she’d been hospitalized, banged and broken after the boating accident, but alive. She’d been nineteen, a sophomore at Yale, ready to take on the world, firmly planted in the invincibility of youth. With a jolt, her life had been turned upside down, and she’d ruthlessly learned that no amount of money or privilege could make her immune from pain and suffering.
“What’s wrong now?”
She opened her eyes. He stood right in front of her, thankfully in jeans, zipped but not snapped, his chest still bare.
“Nothing,” she muttered, closing her eyes again, wishing he’d just go away. Leave her alone for the next week. Assuming he really would let her go then. She sniffed and curled into a tighter ball.
“Sydney?”
She tucked her chin lower.
“Sydney.” His voice was closer, and she slowly, cautiously opened her eyes.
He had crouched beside her, at eye level, and she reflexively drew back. His sharp intake of breath made her shrink back as far as her bound hand would let her.
“Look, Sydney, I’m not trying to frighten you.” His expression gentled. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You already have,” she said in a small voice that made him flinch.
Abruptly, he stood. “We’ll eat in about twenty minutes.”
She watched him walk back to the bathroom, her curiosity growing. It hadn’t been her imagination. He’d actually flinched. Odd. Maybe he was new at this kidnapping business. Maybe he was having second thoughts about his involvement. Maybe she could…
“Luke?”
He turned around and met her eyes with a hardness that wasn’t there a minute ago.
“Never mind.”
He said nothing, his gaze staying on her a moment longer, and then he disappeared into the bathroom.
Sydney relaxed against the pillows, her brain and body drained of all energy. What the hell was she going to do? Wait around and hope he didn’t kill her? Worse, stay wrapped in the false sense of security that he wouldn’t?
Deep down, her every instinct told her this man wouldn’t harm her. The belief belied all reason. Was that what her therapist would call denial?
She hadn’t seen Rhonda for nearly six months. The psychiatrist had been her lifeline after Syd’s parents’ death. And then, after the pain of loss eased, she became more of a friend, a confidante. The mother Sydney no longer had.
Willard was great. He’d always been there for her. But he was very much like her father. Concerned with her financial security, with both enjoying and exploiting the Wainwright name. No surprise. They’d been college fraternity brothers, both born into wealth with a talent for compounding their money.
Dr. Rhonda Levine reminded Sydney of her mother, a simple country girl, the daughter of a farmer, who’d caught Harrison Wainwright’s eye. Like Sydney’s mother, Rhonda had been raised in a middle-class family and understood the struggles of the working class. She’d put herself through school, established her own successful practice and, taking up where Sydney’s mother had left off, coached Sydney into self-reliance.
“I have to make a phone call.”
At the sound of Luke’s voice, she looked up. He’d pulled on a worn black T-shirt that molded to every muscle in his chest and arms, and showed off his slim waist. But she was more interested in the cell phone he had in his hand.
As if reading her mind, one side of his mouth lifted and he said, “You need the code in order to use it.”
“You get an A for efficiency.”
Ignoring her sarcasm, he ran a hand through his still damp hair. “I’ll be right outside the door so give that scheming brain of yours a rest.”
“Then it wouldn’t matter if you untied me.”
He snorted and left.
She kept perfectly still, trying to listen, but all she heard was the creak of the porch floorboards. Followed by several minutes of silence. Which didn’t necessarily mean anything. He could be sitting on the steps.
She twisted around to scope out the window and saw him standing near the car, watching her. He continued to talk into the cell phone. Probably reporting in to someone. His partner? Or was Luke just a hired hand? He didn’t strike her as a man who’d be content as someone’s flunky.
The position was awkward and uncomfortable, and she slumped back against the pillows. Let him stare at her all he wanted. She didn’t care. For now. He had to sleep sometime.
The door opened, startling her, and she raised herself on one elbow to watch him enter the cabin and head straight into the small galley kitchen.
“Who’d you call?”
Over his shoulder, he gave her an amused look.
“Your partner?”
Shaking his head, he got something out of the refrigerator. “You’re something else.”
“Your employer?”
“Enough.” Impatience darkened his face.
“Pizza delivery?” she asked quietly, rubbing her bound wrist.
“Don’t you ever shut up?” He came around the counter toward her.
She dug her heels into the mattress and scrambled back against the wall. And then she saw that he had a plate in his hand. He stopped to pick up a tray and brought both to her.
“Don’t be so jumpy.” He tried to hide a smile. The bastard.
She straightened into a sitting position and peered at the plate. Some kind of sandwich made with whole wheat bread and baby gherkins that were her favorite.
“Here.” He set the tray down in front of her. “What do you want to drink?”
“Why can’t I sit at the table?”
“You have a choice of water, Coke or orange juice.”
“Water, please.” She stared down at the tray, avoiding his eyes. “I’d really like to eat at the table.”
He stayed silent for so long that she finally looked up. He studied her, his brows slightly furrowed, as if considering her request.
“It’s not as if I can escape.” She gave him her best smile. “You’re right here, and I couldn’t get far on foot, anyway.”
Snickering, he shook his head as he went to the refrigerator and got out a bottle of Evian. Her hope faltered and then resurfaced when he set the water on the table.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he said as he approached her. “No more chances after this.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“I hope so.” He jerked the knot loose. “You run again and you stay handcuffed. Period.”
She believed him. He looked tired, crankier since the phone call. The scarf fell away from her wrist and she rubbed the offended area. Feeling his gaze on her, she lowered her hand and scooted to the edge of the bed, and then picked up the tray he’d left her and carried it to the table.
After sitting in one of the two chairs, she opened the bottle of water and sipped, her mind racing with possibilities. The call had most likely been made to the people who hired him. If he didn’t like what they had to say, maybe she still had a chance of bribing him.
She picked up one of the gherkins and nibbled at it, wondering how to approach the subject without ticking him off, when he came to the table and took the other chair. He’d brought a sandwich and a Coke with him.
He popped the can open and took a big gulp, and then studied his sandwich with a frown. He tore off the top crust before taking a bite.
“You don’t like the crust?” she asked.
“Does it look like I do?”
God, he was crabby. She’d only been trying to make conversation. “I just wondered. You made the sandwiches. Why didn’t you cut off the crust in the first place?”
He glared at her.
“Never mind.” She nibbled more of her gherkin and traced the bottom of the Evian bottle. This obviously was not the way to prep him.
“What’s wrong with your sandwich?”
She looked up. He had extraordinary blue eyes. “Nothing.”
“You aren’t eating.” Half of his was already gone.
“I guess I’m not very hungry.” She pushed her plate toward him. “Here.”
He made a face. “Whole wheat?”
“It won’t kill you.” She thought for a couple of seconds. “Of course that would solve my problem.”
His lips curved in a wry smile. “Think so?”
She sighed. “Don’t eat the sandwich. I don’t care.”
He pushed the plate back at her. “Eat.”
“What difference does it make?”
“I don’t want you getting sick on me.”
“Why? Most kidnap victims don’t make it out alive. Right?”
“Jesus.” He got up from the table and kicked his chair in.
“Don’t go.” She bit her lip when he stopped and narrowed his gaze on her. “Sit with me.”

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