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“Shit!” he exploded, flinging back the blankets. “Shit. That’s my plow. They’re here. Paul. The cops. The cavalry. They’re here.”
Grant launched off the bed like a pommel horse champion. He grabbed her clothes and shoved them at her before jerking on his own. Melinda lay stunned for a moment, then forced her fingers to manage her bra, shirt, and sweater. She dashed to the bathroom to dance on the remaining cold pair of clean underwear. She shrugged on her jeans and jacket and yanked her fingers through her sex-tangled hair.
Grant was dressed and giving the room a hard look. For conjugal evidence, she guessed. What’s the food parallel for—Not now! she screamed in her mind. Not now! Not now! Not now! Did she always have to interject something to keep from feeling anything, even fear? Did she always have to escape the present moment? Could she never just be without judging and evaluating and picking everything apart? Shut the hell up! Shut up shut up shut up!
Car doors slammed and Melinda froze.
And then, blissfully, the cold descended and as if punishing her rebellion, her mind went petulantly, utterly blank. The noise of the raiding party floated in from a mile away.
Grant’s footsteps became muffled and distant.
Why was that?
Oh, he was leaving the room.
That seemed smart.
Melinda trailed mutely after him as he abandoned the scene of the crime. Voices sounded from the driveway and Grant stationed himself at the front door. Melinda floated behind him, mind retreated, body numb.
Grant reached for the door handle, then twisted back to glare at her.
“Can I call you?” he burst out.
Melinda blinked. “...What?” Of all the questions she expected, this was not one.
“Can I call you? Sometime. After this.” His nostrils were flared. There was urgency. Why? She heard it but didn’t understand it. They weren’t at a bar and they were well past his asking for her number. They were stranded in a frozen love nest and about to be exposed.
Grant stared at her.
“Uh, okay?” It was all she could manage from her ice palace far away.
Footsteps reached the door.
There was no time left.
Grant yanked open the front door and Melinda disappeared into his shadow.
A black boot crossed the threshold. Melinda’s eyes traced the boots up heavy dark pants to a black trench coat and soft-looking scarf. Her breath quickened. Why was this almost as frightening as being back in that stupid car? Maybe she’d get lucky and faint.
“Samson.” The measured voice cut the air like a blade.
The Mastermind. Paul.
“DiMario,” Grant answered, cool as a cucumber. Neither moved forward to shake hands or embrace, she noted. Accidental kidnapping was serious business. Was that almost a joke? Melinda chided herself for hiding behind humor as well as Grant’s body. That was the bitter spark she needed.
In a stop-motion rush, Melinda’s mind came back online. Her heart took off racing and her hands trembled. She blinked and looked around her.
Paul DiMario was tall. As tall as Grant, but leaner. Lithe. Fierce. With a gentlemanly brutality, if there was such a thing. Even with the stress of driving through the snow to meet some unknown fate, he was dressed in new-looking slacks and a knit sweater. Plus kidnapper gloves and a dark coat. The guy had it together, she had to give him that. More striking than his wardrobe were his pale blond hair, aquiline nose, and ice-blue eyes.
“Where is she? Is she all right?” Paul was asking.
“She’s here,” Grant said. Melinda took a breath and stepped from behind her human shield.
Paul’s eyes flashed.
“Melinda,” he said in greeting. She thought maybe he paused then, to let her speak if she chose. She did not choose, and he continued. “Melinda, I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, but that would make a mockery of what you have been through, and I do not wish to do that.” He stopped. Melinda waited. Let’s hear it, then.
“I deeply regret what has happened to you. For what I did to you. It is completely and utterly my fault, and if you wish to pursue legal recourse you will have my wholehearted cooperation.” He stopped again, and when she didn’t reply, he went on.
