Page 40 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“No, thank you. I am not interested.”

“Liar,” I teased. As soon as I said “mouth,” her gaze went to my lips. She was interested, all right.

“What did you say to that police officer?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

I didn’t lie. “I told him I had brought you here as a guest and you were angry with me and wanted to go home. He asked why you were angry.”

“And you said?”

“I told him I hadn’t disclosed where I was taking you, and you hadn’t brought the right clothes and were pissed at me. That you were saying I had kidnapped you and wanted me arrested. I asked him to put the cuffs on me to shut you up. He thought it was amusing that I would indulge you.”

She gasped in outrage. “That was all a setup?”

I edged closer. “You told him you were kidnapped. Then you backpedaled.”

“You helped. He thought I was crazy.”

“A little,” I admitted. “I told him you came with me on my plane and that you slept because you were tired. That I was the one who made you tired.” I quirked my eyebrows suggestively.

“You…motherducker! I was drugged!”

Motherducker? That was a new one. Where did she come up with these? I had to hide my amusement. She was getting angry again.

“He didn’t believe that. He said he saw the way you looked at me. He heard how I praised you. You told your version, I told mine. You changed your mind because you know, deep down, you want to stay here and be with me. You couldn’t tell him a lie and say you wanted to leave.”

“I never said that,” she sputtered.

I stopped in front of her. “But you feel it. I know you do.”

She was spectacular. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes snapping fury at me. She had her hands clenched into fists, ready for a fight. Her full mouth was tempting.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

I grabbed the shoulder straps of her overalls and pulled her upward, the water causing me no resistance. I kissed her, letting her feel the passion and desire I had for her. I hauled her close, bending her to my will. She kissed me back, feeling the same passion I did.

I pulled back, leaving her floundering.

“I know you do. That’s why this works.”

I left her in the pool.

* * *

She refused to have dinner with me, staying in her room. I ate in the dining room, asking my housekeeper to take her a plate. Gia informed me that Brianna hadn’t eaten much, and against my own judgment, I left her alone.

I passed her room later in the evening, noticing the light spilling out under the door. It stood ajar, and I looked in. Brianna was sitting on her bed, wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Her hair was loose, and she had a notebook on her bent knees. She was writing furiously. Roomba was next to her, asleep.

I tapped and entered her room. She looked up, her eyes wide in her face.

“Writing to your government for rescue?” I asked lightly.

“No.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, studying her. She looked calm. Serious. She had a pencil tucked behind her ear.

“Plotting your escape? Planning on messages in a bottle? Ideas on how to murder me in my sleep?”

“Making my list of demands.”