Page 86 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“I can’t,” she gasped.

“It’s not that funny.”

“It is.”

She started to laugh again, and I had to bite back my amusement. It was rather amusing. No one would ever refer to him as Dick to his face, but the name was…funny. He, however, was not. He was always serious. Focused. I wasn’t sure I had ever even seen him smile.

“Little Bee,” I warned.

Maybe I should leave her at the condo. Except, after what happened today, I didn’t want to leave her alone.

“Will you behave?”

She stopped laughing. Wiped her eyes. Drew in a deep breath.

“I’ll try.”

“He has no sense of humor, Brianna. But he is important, and I need tonight to go well.” I ran a hand over my face. “Can you do that?”

She straightened her shoulders. “Yes.”

“I’m counting on you.”

“No pressure, then.”

I shot her a look but left it. I had a feeling tonight was going to be interesting.

* * *

She wandered into my den about two hours later as I finished up the paperwork. She was in her robe, her hair damp.

“Nice bath, Little Bee?”

“Yes. Very relaxing.”

I noticed a small bag in her hand. “What is that?”

She fidgeted a little, then held it out. “I saw this and thought you would like it.”

Curious, I took the bag and opened it. I unwrapped the tissue and stared at the letter opener. It was a fine specimen, beautifully crafted, and the enameled glass on the handle in perfect condition. The brass had a lovely patina on it, and the opener was a great piece. Useful and decorative.

I looked up at Brianna. “You picked this?”

“Yes. It caught my eye. The handle…” she explained, sounding shy. “The golden circle reminded me of your eyes. And you told me this morning you liked that enameling. I thought maybe it would be helpful to you. You could think of me sometimes when you used it.”

I slid it into the holder and moved it to the center of the desk. I wrapped my hand around her hip and pulled her closer. “I think of you all the time, my beautiful girl.”

“Oh.”

I tugged her between my legs. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s not a hunk of junk?”

“No. It’s a great piece. I told you that you have a good eye.”

She smiled, and I ran my hands up her arms, stopping when she grimaced. “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied, trying to sidle away.