by Heidi Betts
His abductor, however, was nowhere in sight.
So she planned to use him for her own selfish sexual gratification and then take off, did she?
A knot of annoyance tightened in his stomach. He didn’t much appreciate being the object of her wham, bam, thank you, man mentality.
He didn’t much appreciate still being roped up like a calf during branding season, either.
Craning his neck, he took in the ties at his wrists. He’d done more than his fair share of yanking last night, and all he’d managed to do was pull the boas tighter. So he wouldn’t waste any more time with that.
Instead, he studied his bonds, lingering until he found what he thought might be an end piece. From the looks of it, the lengths of tasseled yarn weren’t so much knotted as wound around his wrists and the bedposts, then tied into tight bows.
Twisting his body, arm, and hand-and not all in the same direction-he got two fingers around one of the ends and slowly began to tug.
Slowly.
Slowly.
The end started to move. Mere centimeters at first, but it was coming.
He kept at it, making sure he didn’t rush and lose his grip or end up with tighter bindings than he’d started with. When the first boa loosened and fell from around his wrist, he let his head fall back on the pillow and bit back a shout of success.
Lungs burning from lack of oxygen while he’d held his breath in concentration, he rolled to his other side and yanked the end of that boa until his right wrist sprang free. A second later, his feet were undone and he was off the bed, grabbing for his clothes.
Hopping on one leg and then the other, he jumped into his pants on his way to the door and was tugging his plain black T-shirt over his chest as he hit the hall.
Feet bare and fly still open, he cocked his head to listen for sounds of Jenna. No telling where she was in this big old house, and he didn’t want her springing any more surprises on him. If anything, he intended to spring one or two on her.
When he didn’t hear anything on the second floor, he headed for the stairs, zipping up as he took the steps as quietly as possible one at a time.
As he reached the bottom, he heard someone talking and knew it was Jenna. Her voice was low and intense, coming from around the corner.
Careful not to make a sound, he stopped on the last step and leaned a shoulder against the wall. She was close, probably only a few feet away, even though he couldn’t see her.
He pictured her standing near the dining room table, speaking in hushed tones to… someone. Apparently on the phone, because he hadn’t heard a second voice even though there were plenty of pauses long enough for someone else to fill.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she insisted just above a whisper.
He imagined she was keeping her voice low in hopes of not waking him. Little did she know…
“Ohmigod, it was amazing. I can’t thank you two enough for all your help.”
Silence. Though he suspected-hell, he knew-she was talking to either Ronnie or Grace.
“No, he won’t,” she went on matter-of-factly. “He’ll be furious. I’m kind of hoping I can cut him loose while he’s still asleep and then run off to hide until the coast is clear.”
And now he was sure about something else-she was talking to one of her friends about him. About tying him up and having her wicked way with him. Over and over again.
“But hopefully the deed is done and it won’t matter how angry he is with me.”
Hmph. She should be so lucky. He didn’t appreciate being manipulated, no matter what the reason. Not when she could have just asked him to come over and help her scratch her itch.
That, he thought, really pissed him off…
Wait. What deed?
Wasn’t having sex with him last night “the deed”?
No, that couldn’t be right because she’d said “hopefully the deed was done” and that deed was definitely done. It had been done hard and fast and quite thoroughly. Twice.
So what else could she have hoped to accomplish with her little domination-and-submission routine?
“I don’t know.”
Her voice dropped, and he imagined her chewing the corner of her lower lip the way she always did when she was nervous.
“Don’t those over-the-counter tests say you have to wait seven to ten days or something?”
Gage’s brows knit. Test? What kind of test took seven to ten days?
Jenna sighed. “Start over, I guess. Start dating again, maybe visit one of those icky sperm banks. But I don’t want to think about any of that. I want to stay positive and hope the plan worked. If it does, Gage will kill me when he finds out, but I don’t think I care.”
The last of her words swirled around him, going in one ear and out the other because his internal organs had all stopped functioning at sperm banks.
Son of a bitch.
She hadn’t drugged him and tied him down just to have fabulous, forbidden sex with her ex. She’d drugged him and tied him down to get pregnant.
Son of a bitch! Fucking son of a goddamn bitch.
The one thing she knew he’d never agree to. The biggest cinder block in the wall that had gone up between them and eventually destroyed their marriage.
Fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, he forced himself to breathe evenly and remain perfectly still. If he moved, it would be to whip around the corner, snatch the phone out of her hand, and shake her until her teeth rattled or worse.
It was the “worse” that kept him rooted to the spot. Because he was afraid if he saw her right now, if he laid a finger on her, he might do serious bodily harm. And no matter how furious he was with her-even now, when she’d betrayed his trust and used his own weak, disloyal flesh against him-he would never truly want to hurt her.
But damn, it was tempting. His jaw ached from holding back a roar of outrage.
Just when he thought his head might explode from the pressure building behind his eyes, Jenna’s voice intruded again.
“Yes, I’m sure. If I need anything, I’ll call.” A beat passed. “I think that’s a great idea. I’m sure they’d love to see you, and then I won’t be the only one who got lucky this weekend.”
Her tinkling laughter filled the room and spilled up the stairwell. Normally, he loved to hear her happy. She had one of those laughs that poured over him like warm honey and burrowed under his skin.
This morning, though, it grated, reminding him that she and her friends had concocted a plan to knock him out and knock her up.
She said good-bye and he heard a small beep as she disconnected. He braced himself, expecting her to round the corner and run smack into him, but instead her footsteps moved in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen.
And she was humming. Humming, dammit, happy as a lark at the little scheme she and her friends had concocted and managed to pull off-brilliantly.
God, he felt like a schmuck.
Oh, sure, I’ll come over and fix your dripping sink.
Duh.
Gee, thanks for the cold beer, it really hits the spot.
Der.
You want to fuck like bunnies even though we’ve been divorced for more than a year? Awesome!
Idiot, idiot, idiot!
A fresh wave of anger hit and he pushed away from the wall, intent on finally facing her and letting her have it. He wouldn’t bruise her, he wouldn’t shake her, he wouldn’t toss her through an upstairs window.
But he couldn’t promise not to shout the rafters down around her ears.
Walking softly, he was careful not to alert her to his presence. She was in the kitchen now, still humming as she moved around, running water for coffee, filling a filter with grounds.
He didn’t let himself notice the snug fit of her cutoff denim shorts or the long, slim legs they left bare. The bright red tips of her toes or the sleeveless white top tied just beneath her breasts to expose her taut midriff.
He didn’t want to see any of that or think about the fact
that she looked almost as good in clothes as she did out of them.
Oh, no, not today. He was not going to let his attraction to her get in the way of his fury over her betrayal.
She had her back to him, and it was almost too easy to sneak up on her. When she turned, he was less than a foot away. Her eyes went wide, she shrieked in surprise, and the coffee pot she was holding slipped from her fingers, smashing to the floor in a shower of water and glass.
Gage cursed. He’d meant to intimidate her… and yeah, maybe scare her a bit… but he didn’t want her to hurt herself.
Cupping his wide hands under her elbows, he lifted her straight up off the floor and swung her around, well out of range of the dangerous mess. He set her down on the other side of the kitchen doorway and backed her into the dining room.
Her cheeks were flushed as she gaped at him, her pupils mottled pinpoints of astonishment and wariness. She opened her mouth, but the only sound she emitted was a low, strangled hiss.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart, cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re just braver when you’ve got me trussed up like a Christmas turkey to your bedframe.”
She swallowed, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “How did you get untied?”
“What?” he asked, his tone sharp. “Did you think you could keep me trapped up there forever? Were you going to fuck me until I was all used up, or just until you were sure you were pregnant?”
If possible, Jenna’s already pale porcelain skin turned even whiter.
“How did you…?”
Her eyes darted toward the hidden stairwell and then to her open handbag, where her cell phone rested on top of everything else she carted around on a daily basis.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he charged. Despite his earlier determination not to rattle the daylights out of her, his teeth clicked together and he gave her a tiny shake. “That I wouldn’t stop and do the math when your belly started filling out? That I wouldn’t figure out what you’d done? That you’d used me, lied to me, forced me into fatherhood when you know that’s the last thing I want.”
Where a second ago her expression was cautious and wan, a flare of color now bloomed high on her cheekbones. She yanked her elbow out of his grip and took a step back, putting what she apparently considered a safe distance between them.
“Do you want the truth?” she charged, her voice steady and tinged with accusations of her own. “The truth, Gage, is that I wasn’t thinking about you. I didn’t consider your feelings or wishes. I was thinking about me, and what you stole from me, and how I might-just might-get it back.”
His brow crinkled as he frowned. “What are you talking about? What the hell did I ever steal from you?”
She rolled her eyes in what he recognized as a time-honored gesture that basically implied men were obtuse idiots and he was their king.
“You took everything from me, Gage.” The words were spoken softly enough, but carried an elephant’s weight of emotion. “I thought we were happy. I thought we were going to be together forever, but you took all of that away from me. You woke up one day and decided you didn’t really want a wife or children, and expected the whole world to fall in line accordingly.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “We’ve had this discussion before. And it doesn’t change the fact that you drugged me and held me against my will.”
“No, we haven’t discussed this before,” she argued, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and taking a stance that clearly said she was just getting started. “Because every time I tried to talk to you about it, you clammed up. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed and cried and threw pillows at your head. But your mind was made up, and that was the end of the story, as far as you were concerned. You wouldn’t listen to me and refused to understand my point of view.”
“I don’t want kids, Jenna,” he said, standing his ground. “That’s not an opinion that’s going to be swayed by a passionate, well-orchestrated argument.”
“But you did when we got married,” she all but shouted at him, rising on her bare tiptoes in an attempt to meet him eye to eye. “We talked about our future. We talked about having babies and growing old together. You’re the one who changed the rules in the middle of the game and expected me to go along with them.”
She paused only long enough to take a breath, uncross her arms, and poke him hard in the center of his chest with an index finger.
“Well, I do want kids. I wanted them with you in the picture, but you’ve decided to be an asshole, so now I have to switch to Plan B and get them some other way.”
He watched her, and despite what she thought, he was listening. But this was a battle that was never going to end. They could talk, yell, debate, and play Rock-Paper-Scissors until they were blue in the face, but neither of them was ever going to win.
She clearly wanted one thing, and he wanted another. And it wasn’t like they disagreed over what color to paint the guest bathroom; this was big-time, life-altering, mega-important stuff.
“And Plan B was tying me down and raping me?”
She reared back as though he’d struck her. “I’m sorry you feel that way about it,” she said. “That wasn’t my intention, and except for the circumstances, I thought you were as into it as I was.”
For a brief moment, guilt stabbed at him. It hadn’t been that bad, and they both knew it. In fact, part of what had him so ticked off was the knowledge that even if he’d understood what she was up to at the time, he still wouldn’t have stopped. He still wouldn’t have fought hard enough to break free and toss her aside.
“So what do we do now, Jenna?” he asked calmly. “Wait to see if I’ve been strong-armed into fatherhood?”
“No. We don’t have to wait for anything. I did this because I want a baby. You don’t, and I would never force you to be involved in something you didn’t willingly sign on for. I won’t ask anything of you, Gage,” she rushed to reassure him. “If I’m pregnant, I’ll raise the child alone. I’ll tell people I was artificially inseminated or that it’s the result of a one-night stand or something. It won’t affect you at all. No matter what, you can go on with your life and pretend last night never happened.”
Gage wouldn’t have thought it possible to be more furious than he’d been when he’d overheard her conversation with Grace, but that last statement did it. He felt his temperature rising, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a sneer.
Taking the single step that brought them nose-to-nose once again, he leaned in until she was forced to lean back or risk him touching her. As it was, his hot breath bathed her face and feathered through the hair at her temples.
“If you believe that,” he hissed, “then you never really knew me at all.”
And with that, he spun on his heel, crossed the room to grab his leather jacket, and slammed out the front door.
Knit 7
Ronnie wrinkled up the empty Combos bag and tossed it over her shoulder into the back seat. Then she reached into the console and dug around for a stick of gum.
“Dylan is not going to appreciate it when I show up at his door with dragon breath,” she said, as Grace made a right-hand turn into the Marriott parking lot.
“Dylan is going to be so thrilled to see you, he won’t care if your breath smells like Charlotte ’s barn,” Grace reassured her with a chuckle. “And if it’s that bad, he’ll just bend you over the bureau with your face in the other direction.”
Even though her cheeks heated at the image her friend’s comment created, Ronnie laughed so hard, she nearly swallowed the gum.
“Or here’s another novel idea: I could make him wait five seconds while I borrow his toothbrush.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Well, if you wanted to take the logical route, I suppose that would work.”
Ronnie still couldn’t believe they were doing this. An impromptu road trip hadn’t been on her list of things to do over the weekend, but as soon as Grace had called her back to let her know that Jenna was not only alive
and well, but crossing all of her fingers and toes that last night’s mission had been accomplished, and then suggested they get the hell out of Dodge just in case, Ronnie had suddenly thought it sounded like a stellar idea.
It was one thing to manipulate events and take some liberties with a man’s free will when it came to sex, but it was a whole other thing to stick around and wait for The Wrath of Gage to fall upon them.
If he woke up pissed, Ronnie just knew she and Grace were going to be at the top of his list of people to kill. And the man was a redwood. He could snap them in half with his pinky finger, if the notion took him… something she would just as soon avoid, if at all possible.
So a road trip for a little out-of-town nookie and temporary witness relocation it was.
The parking lot was packed, but they eventually found a spot about six miles from the main building and pulled in. Both women gathered their purses and small overnight bags, then locked up and made the long trek to the hotel lobby.
Unlike most nearly empty hotel lobbies, this one was packed-and every other person milling about wore a Cleveland Rockets jersey, sweat- or T-shirt, or some other type of hockey paraphernalia. There were even a few giant foam fingers being waved around.
Those who weren’t obvious hockey fans were even more obvious puck bunnies, dressed in skintight jeans or short-shorts and tops so snug, one good breath would have their breasts popping out like they were at a La Leche convention.
She probably couldn’t spot them as quickly as Grace did, but Ronnie knew a groupie when she saw one. And living with a sports reporter who covered the Rockets almost exclusively meant that she spent her fair share of time at games and practices, and wasn’t the least bit surprised by the number of fans hanging out in the hotel lobby praying a player would wander through. Some were hoping for autographs, others pictures. And the bunnies… well, they were hoping for the chance to put another notch on their bedposts with some willing player’s skate blade.