the back of a dusty wooden chair. "Sit," his deep voice ordered.
Annoyance burned away some of her trepidation. Who did this cretin think he was, anyway? "I am not a dog," she huffed.
His chuckle rumbled out again. "Plant yourself in the chair. Pretty please," he added in a sugary tone.
Seeing no other choice, she obeyed. Behind her, his jacket rustled. Aware of her vulnerable position, she stiffened, her short choppy breaths not conveying nearly enough oxygen to her lungs. So far, her captor had been good-natured and surprisingly gentle. Even when he'd used his superior strength to control her, she'd sensed him holding back. But what would he do now that he had her alone, and at his mercy?
Without warning, his hands gripped her shoulders. In spite of herself, she flinched.
"Easy." His voice moved closer to her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you." His low reassurance slid out, rich and mellow.
His deep baritone wrapped around her like the hot darkness of a sultry summer night, blanketing her uneasiness in warmth. A tingling ripple spiraled up her spine, sparking a shiver.
"Are you cold?"
Her muddled thoughts focused on his question and she shook her head. Tense, jumpy and anxious, you bet. But whatever unfamiliar mixed cocktail of emotions had made her shiver, she wasn't cold.
"Listen up. I've got some loose ends to deal with. I should tie and gag you…"
Her every muscle clenched. Over my dead body!
He gently squeezed her shoulders. "But I won't. There's no way out, and if you've got any brainy ideas about screaming for help, eighty-six them. Any 'help' you attract in this neighborhood won't be the kind you want. I'll be back soon. You'll be safe if you stay put and don't do anything stupid. Got it?"
She nodded. As he walked away, she heard the whisper of clothing. The door creaked open and then slammed shut. The bar clanked into place, leaving her alone in the gloomy silence.
Relief swirled through her. Like a dream, a sense of unreality clouded her mind. Crazy surprises didn't happen to Tessa Beaumont. She kept her life ordered, predictable and controlled. Being kidnapped was not scheduled in her planner in neat script—blue for daily schedule, green for appointments and red for urgent matters.
What would happen when the thief returned? He'd said he wasn't going to hurt her, and so far, he'd kept his word. But rule number one in the Deranged Kidnappers' Handbook was probably, "Keep the victim calm and obedient." Unfortunately, she'd been too busy with wedding plans to take that kickboxing course with Mel last month.
Though the roguish robber seemed more than capable of handling a whole class of self-defense graduates. With his looks, one of his sunny smiles was enough to disarm any female between nine and ninety. Glowing with a combination of sensuality and mischief, his infectious grin had incited a flood of response deep inside.
Tessa straightened. What was wrong with her? The shock must have unhinged her mind. No way would she meekly wait for him in this dump like an expired certificate of deposit.
As if to drive home the thought, rustling and sharp squeaks erupted from the corner. She gulped. Rats? Yelping, she scrambled onto the chair, her gaze skittering around the room.
Bundled newspapers littered the floor and three cardboard boxes leaned drunkenly in a corner. Not much to aid a jailbreak, but a small window high on the opposite wall offered some hope.
In one of Tessa's favorite movies, Goldie Hawn thwarted kidnappers by climbing out a window to the tire escape. But even if Tessa could reach the narrow window, it promised a tight fit.
She mentally compared the window to her hips, glad she'd skipped lunch.
After a hesitant glance at the now-quiet corner, she stepped down, and dragged the chair over. Even with the added height, the sill was out of reach.
As her gaze lingered on the cardboard boxes, an idea formed. Tessa grabbed newspapers and dumped them inside a box. She lifted the filled box onto the chair before fetching another carton and more papers. Papers with raggedly chewed edges. A shudder rippled through her. She lifted another stack and uncovered a pile of droppings. Ugh! Inspired to work even faster, she finished the last box and stacked it on top of the others, then stood back to assess her makeshift ladder. Not bad.
Sucking in a breath, she hiked up her long skirt to climb onto the wobbly pile. Her head now reached the bottom of the sill. A grin creased her face.