Unusual. Him being so accommodating.
Stella rubbed her nape, settling fine hair on end. Until she was safely tucked in her own bed, she wouldn’t put anything past him.
“The library’s down the hall … you can wait there.” He strode to the door, tossing over his shoulder, “When it’s time, Minni will come for you.”
“Thank you,” Stella murmured, surprised she’d uttered the civil words. But by then, she stood alone in the middle of the dining room, so he must’ve missed them. For some inexplicable reason, she felt deserted.
Foolish, girl.
She strolled to the library and her shoulders sagged. No computer, no cell phone. Just shelves of books, comfy furniture and flames blazing in the grate. Cozy. Warm. Unlike the owner. Either he enjoyed his solitude or turned into a recluse for some reason. His son?
Browsing, she pulled out a volume, by-passed the sofa and sat cross-legged on the carpet. Logs crackled and hissed, shooting off sparks. Absent-mindedly, she flipped the pages, her mind wandering to her captor. It was obvious he loved his son, but a harshness underlined it, sharp and cutting in intensity. Who or what had caused the bitterness in his life? And how much did it have to do with him taking such drastic measures to bring her here, then quickly releasing her? Hmm, she set her mind on rewind…
Stella had been jogging along the English Bay beach walk near her studio home as dawn colored the sky when the two men accosted her.
“We’re not here to hurt you, Miss,” the man said, dressed in a dark suit and smoothing his reddish mustache.
“That’s right.” The other one flipped his dark hair off his brow with the back of his hand, revealing a mole at his temple.
The simple action triggered her memory.
“You two came to my studio last week,” Stella said, gauging them.
“That’s right,” the red-haired one admitted. “Since you turned his offer down, we … er … are inviting you to come see the boss himself.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” the dark one agreed. “We’re to drive you there.”
“You tell boss-man,” Stella bit out, “if he wants to talk to me, he can telephone and make an appointment at a decent hour at the studio.”
“It isn’t that simple, Miss,” the man in front of her answered. “He—”
“Listen, I have a business to run,” she cut him off, starting to backtrack away from them. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to it.”
The two men glanced at one another. “We hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” One sighed, the other shrugged, and both made a grab for her.
She’d fought them, but when they threw the fishing net over her, she was caught …
Stella shifted on the carpet and eased the cramps from her knees. She may be caught, but not for long. Warmth from the fire soothed, and she turned on her side, cushioning her head on her folded arms.
“Mmm, this feels nice,” she murmured.
The altercation with his two goons, followed so soon with the confrontation with the ogre, had left her physically and emotionally exhausted.
She lowered her lashes, just for a second.
After what seemed mere moments, Stella fluttered her eyes open, prickles on the back of her neck. Except for the flickering flames in the grate, the room had grown dark, the sun having set long ago. She blinked to orientate herself to her surroundings and collided with his electrifying gaze.
“What’re you doing here?” She leaped up and swayed at the sudden movement. Calm as you please, he lounged on the sofa, watching her beneath his bushy brows. Feeling at a distinct disadvantage, she swept up the pillow and blanket from the floor, and hugged them to her bosom.
Stan had the urge to snake his arm out and haul her into his arms, burying his face in her hair, sliding his hands beneath her disheveled jogging suit … sweat and all. He didn’t care. Her warmth and her scent, with a hint of the Ivory soap she’d used during her shower, lassoed him.
His gut jerked, or was that his heart?
Her eyes a deep sapphire from slumber, mesmerized. He wanted to nuzzle her nape, taste … abruptly, he checked the motion.
Utter foolishness.
Hadn’t he learned his lesson in college when he got hitched on a dare? She’d taken him for a ride … every penny he had … and still after his scalp … and his son. Then, he’d been young, proud, reckless. Now, older and he hoped wiser— What the heck are you doing with this woman here? He shrugged the irksome thought aside.
If he wanted a woman, he could get one at the snap of his fingers. They were easy to come by when one was endowed with wealth. He wondered if they wanted him or his loot—if they’d even glance his way if he pumped gas at the local garage. He curled his lip in a silent snarl, and, thinking it was directed at her, Stella took a step away from him.
Fever.
Blood pulsed through his veins and pooled in his groin. He bit down an expletive. He didn’t want a woman, not now. And certainly, not this one. Too stubborn, too shrewd, too outspoken, too beautiful … he sucked in a breath and let it blast out between his teeth.
“Is it time to go?” she asked.
Let her go? Never again.
“A change of plans,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.
“Oh?” Stella moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.
Sexual awareness flared. Stan tightened his jaw.
“You won’t be leaving today, after all.” At her outraged expression, he was quick to add, “A problem with the truck.” Under the circumstances, he had trouble believing the lame excuse himself. Just happened to be true s’all. Whether she believed him or not was her problem. Yeah, right.
“How convenient.”
“Actually, it’s not,” he muttered. “The group wanted to get to town and stock supplies before first snow.”
“Snow?”
He ignored her query. “Fred was going to check on the limo and halfway there, the Hummer broke down. He had to hike back.”
“Poor him.”
He didn’t even blink at her sarcastic rejoinder. “The outing will be postponed until tomorrow, together with your return.” A pause and, “Poor you?”
“Go to he—”
“I’ve already been,” he ground out. “Don’t recommend it.”
About to shoot back, she thought better of it. Stoking the already volatile situation wouldn’t get her out of there. And that’s what she wanted.
Definitely.
“Doesn’t look like snow to me, not by a long shot,” she said again.
“At least not for another couple of months.”
“We like to be prepared in case it’s early this year.” He hauled himself off the sofa and reached out for the blanket and pillow.
She clutched them tighter, like a protective device. “What about trekking to the limo and driving from there?”
“Not in this darkness, unless it’s an absolute emergency,” he said, tone flat. “Dangerous, especially if you’re not familiar with the trail.”
“To me, this is an emergency.”
“Not enough to risk a broken leg in a pot hole. Be serious, Ms. Ryan.” He raised a brow. “What’s one more day going to