Run To Rome

Trent hesitated, and then swept his hand in invitation toward the stairs. At the top, he directed her down the hall to the guest room that connected to his master suite, both of them overlooking the lake. All the while, he couldn’t help thinking he’d goaded her into accepting his offer, so why did he get the feeling that she’d pulled one over on him?

At the bedroom door, she turned and blocked the entrance. “I can find the bathroom from here.”

She was actually kind of cute, thinking he’d just let her go in there all by herself. “I’m sure you can, but first I need to make sure there’s no window for you to climb out of.”

Consternation crossed her features, and he bit back a grin at her predictability.

She spun around to enter the room. “It’s your house, shouldn’t you already know that?”

“I don’t use the guestroom bathrooms.”

“No, you wouldn’t. I suppose your women all come to you, don’t they?”

He choked on a laugh. “My women? You make it sound like I have a harem or something.”

She avoided the large bed and went to stand next to an antique vanity and chair. “Don’t act like you don’t crook your finger and women come running. Heck, I bet that door right there connects to your bedroom.”

Trent’s mouth curved in a slow smile as he crossed the floor to glance into the windowless bathroom. “Careful, sweetheart, you sound curious.”

“And you sound conceited,” she shot back.

But he noticed a flush working its way across her cheeks. She quickly indicated the tall windows flanking either side of the bed.

“So what about these? You going to sit guard in here while I shower?”

He cast a sweeping glance down her petite length. “You tell me, do I have to?”

With a disgusted huff, she stripped the travel purse from around her neck and threw it at him. “There. My passport and my money. Now quit breathing down my neck an

d leave me alone.”

Trent caught the purse one handed. He focused on the small item in his hands in an attempt to dispel the mental image of her naked body under the hot spray. Halli, meanwhile, grabbed the delicate straight back chair in front of the vanity and dragged it into the bathroom with her. The door slammed, and he heard her wedge the chair under the handle.

He was amused, yet oddly insulted. As if he’d force himself on her. True, he’d noticed a few positive things since pulling up to her on the sidewalk and thinking she was plain, but if he compared her to the women he usually dated, she was the definition of opposite. Picturing her naked in the shower meant nothing more than he was a guy.

He heard the shower door slide open. A second later the sound of water hitting the marble tiles reposted the erotic image in his mind, and reminded him he was a guy who hadn’t had sex in awhile. This fact also, thankfully, explained his reaction in the garage, when he’d pressed her against the door from head to toe, his forearms cushioned against her breasts, his hips pinning hers. Who’d have guessed those ugly clothes of hers could hide so much?

Another slide of the shower door, then the subtle change in the sound of the water told him she’d stepped inside. With a low groan, he headed for the hall before his imagination completely took over.

See, she could trust him, damn it. He slapped her purse against his palm in frustration, only to pull up short with the memory of her unexpected meek smile when she’d accepted his offer of a shower. Not to mention the fact she’d handed her purse over a little too willingly.

He unzipped the top and dug out the items inside. Passport, traveler’s checks and cash, lip moisturizer and a couple folded pieces of paper. She hadn’t lied.

And you know what else? She might not want him to think she trusted him, but handing over her personal stuff told a whole other story. Tension eased from his shoulders, allowing him to relax for the first time in the past couple hours.

****

Wrapped in a luxuriant, navy, terry-cloth robe she’d found hanging on the back of the door, Halli moved the chair aside and opened the bathroom door to peek into the silent room beyond. She blew out a heavy sigh of relief when she saw her famous kidnapper had not set up camp on the bed. The other emotion tickling her stomach she staunchly refused to identify.

Time to get dressed and set her plan in motion. As long as she had a plan to execute, orderly steps to focus on in her head, she could keep from dissolving into a mindless idiot.

Just before the door clicked shut again, she noticed some items on the bed that hadn’t been there before. A single sheet of white paper rested on top. Curiosity got the better of her and she hurried across the floor, her toes sinking into the plush carpeting.

Thought you’d appreciate some clean clothes.

“What, no honey?” She crumpled the neatly printed note in her fist. “Sweetheart? Sugar Pie?”

Laid out front and center were skimpy bikini underwear and two satin bras; one black, one white. Heat rose in her face at the thought of Trent Tomlin picking out underwear for her. She didn’t even want to know where any of them came from.