Kidnapping His Bride

Chapter Six

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice soft.

Talk about a swift kick in the balls. He’d never felt lower in his life than he had when she said those three simple, irritating-as-hell words.

I don’t know.

He could whisk her away from that horrendous sister of hers and show her a new life. A better life. One where she wouldn’t feel like someone’s obligation, where she wasn’t left to the whim of a super controlling, bitchy sister like hers. He’d give Cat whatever she wanted, no questions asked. He liked her.

But he also felt sorry for her. This, he knew, was a dangerous combination. Would sympathy dictate his motives? That wasn’t fair to her—or him.

So instead of hashing over the tyrannical diatribe Cat had just suffered on the phone and the following squashed marriage proposal, Rafe swept all the ugliness under the virtual rug and reminded Cat they had a breakfast to get to.

He took her to a small café near his apartment building, where he’d plied her with eggs, bacon and hash browns until she was groaning in protest over having to eat one more bite. They then hopped into a taxi, where he’d been quietly amused at the way Cat clutched at her stomach while the driver raced like a bat out of hell through the streets of Manhattan. All the while bemoaning her too-full stomach and the cabby’s crazy driving.

Finally, they’d ended up in one of the high-end department stores he knew his sister Stasia liked to frequent, figuring he couldn’t go wrong with the location. It would have everything Cat would need under one roof. She’d acted reluctant at first, protesting that she didn’t want to shop on his dime or spend his money. Nothing seemed to please her as they wandered through the departments. He followed behind her, growing more and more frustrated, finally ready to call it quits when she stopped short on the third floor in front of a mannequin display.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said with quiet reverence, her entire body going still as she drank in the sight before her.

He moved so he stood next to her, studying the tall, bony-looking mannequins dressed in barely there, sparkly dresses. The one he preferred was in the middle. The dress was sleeveless with a scoop neck and almost indecently short—and completely covered with iridescent sequins that caught and threw the light like a walking disco ball.

A sexy-as-hell disco ball, that is.

“Which dress do you prefer?” he asked, waving at the display.

“The one in the middle.” She sighed, a wistful sound that made his heart ache for her. Seemingly all over a dress, though he knew his ache was for far more. “I love the color of the sequins. Not quite gold, not quite silver, and so pretty.” She went to the dress and smoothed her hand down the front of the skirt. “It’s too short.”

“It would show off your legs like I wanted,” he pointed out.

She flashed him a smile from over her shoulder. “Probably too much leg.”

Probably, but he wasn’t about to agree with her. He could tell she wanted that dress too damn much and he didn’t want to dash her dreams. “I’m not protesting.”

Laughing, she shook her head and checked the price tag, an audible gasp escaping her. “It’s way too expensive.”

“How much is it?”

“No.” She shook her head, backing away from the display. “There’s no way I would let you buy that for me.”

“Cat. Tell me how much.”

She started to walk away, heading in the opposite direction they came. “I don’t want it, Rafe. Please. Let’s find something else.”

Ignoring her, he stepped up to the dress in question and checked the tag. Twenty-eight hundred dollars. A ridiculous amount of money for a scrap of fabric, but if wearing the dress tonight would make her happy, then she was an owner. No questions asked. “You should try it on,” he called out to her.