He was adamant.
Well, now, so was she.
Forcing a smile, Melina took a halfhearted spin around the room in her evening dress, trying to recapture the pleasure she’d had a few hours earlier in the feel of the silky fabric swirling around her calves and ankles. She knew she looked pretty in the dress and she regretted no one would see her in it. She unzipped the dress. Maybe she would take it with her. Surely even average American housewives wore evening dresses sometimes.
She thought she heard little snicks of noise at the door to the adjoining bathroom, but of course there would be no one there. She would have been delighted to find someone there, to invite a little adventure into her deadly dull life, but that was never going to happen. Not as long as her father treated her like a priceless family jewel instead of a living, breathing human being with a life of her own.
She slipped off her shoes. First, she would change into street clothes. Then—
A hand covered her mouth. A strong arm pinned her arms to her side. Fear shot through her. She fought. Kicked. Flailed about as best she could. But she was small. And the arms that bound her to a hard chest were strong. She struggled, panting behind the hand that covered most of her face.
Her assailant took her to the bathroom door. Soon she would be beyond rescue. If she could manage a sound, the guards right outside her bedroom door would hear her, would save her. She kicked, aiming for the bedside lamp. Missed. The strap of her gown slipped off her shoulder.
“Hold still,” he whispered into her ear, his voice a soft rasp. He slid the strap back into place on her shoulder. “They aren’t on your side.”
That stopped her, froze her in his grasp. He was right, of course. Who was he, that he knew that?
They entered the dark bathroom. Melina grew still and they moved quickly beyond the small room into another adjoining bedroom, also dark.
“Nobody’s going to hurt you,” he said. “I’ll explain. But first we have to get somewhere safe.”
A trick, of course. But there was something in the voice.... And there was the promise of escape. He might have something else in mind, but in her heart a notion of her own stirred to life. This stranger would help her escape from them, then she could escape from him.
The thought gave her courage. She drew the deepest breath possible, picking up the scent off his hand.
Something stirred to life in her mind. A memory, a feeling...
He shifted his grip on her. “I’m going to zip your dress. Then I have to gag you. Cover your mouth. I don’t want to, but...”
He stuffed something in her mouth. Something soft and silky but still unwelcome. She growled a protest as she felt him slide the zipper snugly into place.
“Sorry.”
Her nose was free now. She inhaled deeply. Recognition struck her. The soft voice. The distinctive scent of cypress on his flesh. Adrenaline gave her strength.
She burst free of his grasp and turned to face him, snatching the silk out of her mouth in the same instant. It was dark, but she could see the faint outline of his face. The square jaw, the slope of forehead, the fullness of the lower lip.
“You!”
He froze for an instant, then dragged her to the window, threw up the shade and let moonlight into the room.
He looked as stunned as she felt. “You!”
CHAPTER TWO
WHAT A NIGHTMARE.
Ash should have insisted on seeing a photo of the mysterious Melina Somerset. He should have made a point of watching TV the last few days, just to get a look at her. If he had, he would be somewhere else right this minute. A continent away.
He was almost furious enough to leave her right there in the dark second-floor room. But he heard the tone of her voice and suspected that if he didn’t take her with him, she’d see to it that her father’s goons were on top of him in less time than it took to finesse a home security system.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered furiously.
He’d never seen her angry before, although it was entirely possible she’d been a tad irate in London when she’d realized he wasn’t coming back. “Can we talk about this later? Somewhere else? Like in the next county?”
She glared at him a moment, then nodded abruptly.
They slipped through the window, down the trellis he’d scouted earlier in the week as a possible emergency escape route. They made their way to the parking area. Ash surveyed the cars, looking for the most nondescript and inexpensive car.
“Don’t you know which one is yours?” she said sharply.
“Whichever one I want, princess,” he retorted.
“I see. That one, then.”
He looked where she pointed. A vintage red sports car.
“No way.”
She marched over to it, her stance and her tone regal. “This one.”
“Too flashy. It’ll draw too much attention.”
“I like this one,” she said, treating him to a cool smile. “And I can make a scene if I don’t get what I want.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”
Grinding his teeth in frustration, Ash hot-wired the convertible in a matter of seconds. At least he didn’t have to jimmy the lock on a convertible. He pulled quietly out of the parking area and eased down the long driveway without turning on the headlights.
“You have some interesting talents, Ash Thorndyke,” she said when they reached the street. “Kidnapping. Car theft. You’re much more fascinating than I imagined.”
She kept her tone light, but he couldn’t mistake the underlying bite.
“Can we keep it quiet,” he said softly.
“Oh, I hardly think they can hear us now.”
From the corner of his eye, he noticed that she leaned back and took in the stars, like a young woman without a care in the world.
Like Mel Summersby, the saucy and sultry young woman he’d thought she was in London.
“I’ve always wanted to ride in a convertible,” she said.
There it was—the soft purr of a voice that had been the second thing that drew him to her. The first had been her smile, sometimes naive and sometimes seductive, but always too big for her thin, fine-boned face, as were those sable-colored eyes of hers. She was like the girl next door wrapped up in the packaging of a temptress. He’d been seduced before. He could be again. That was the worst of it.
“Save the innocent-waif routine, princess.” He pointed the car toward the middle of town, where he could drive around long enough to decide what to do next.
She rode in silence for a long while. When they neared the city center, she edged forward in the seat. “There’s a McDonald’s.”
He spotted the famous golden arches. “So?”
“I want a hamburger.” She turned in the seat and watched as they passed the arches. “I said—”
“Not this close to the caviar-and-champagne set, princess.”
“My name is Melina.”
“So I’ve discovered.”
“Is that why you came back for me? You found out who I was?”
“Princess, I can assure you, if I’d known who you were, I would have stayed in Anaheim tonight.”
“Not a very likely