Falling For You (Love In All Seasons #2) - Frankie Love Page 0,31
I was such a bundle of nervous energy today that I can’t remember the last meal I’ve had.
“You just throw them over your shoulder?”
That gets a half-smile from him.
Not that I want a smile.
I want to beat him to a pulp. I mean, he freaking kidnapped me and I’m in a strange cabin with him and he could be planning on chopping me up into little pieces and feeding me to the bears.
He walks over to the wood stove, throws a few logs in and strikes a match. My eyes follow his every movement. I know I said it was a creepy cabin, but I twist my lips knowing this place isn’t creepy at all.
There’s a wool blanket over one of the two easy chairs flanking the stove, a braided rug on the floor. His bed is large, made, and the quilt looks handmade. He may be a mountain man, but he doesn’t send up any red flags. I mean, besides the fact he kidnapped me.
“You should sit and eat. The soup’s gonna get cold, you realize that?”
“I probably can’t eat it. I’m vegetarian.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Figured as much.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I know who you are, an animal rights activist or whatever. Being a vegetarian kinda fits the bill.”
“So?”
He smirks. “So, what?”
I put my hands on my hips, not interested in getting on friendly terms with this man. “So does the soup have meat in it?”
“A stranger kidnapped you and you’re getting picky about the food you’re being offered?”
I smile, proud of my ideals. “I am not going to change my ethical code just because you’re hiding me in the middle of nowhere.”
He sits down at the table. “I know.”
“You know what?”
“I know you’re not. You’re the kind of woman who sticks to her guns. I can appreciate that. Luckily I made a vegan lentil soup.”
I frown. My kidnapper is not supposed to be nice. Or make me soup. The two things don’t match in my mind.
He sighs, turning from the table and reaching for me. “Come here. I know you aren’t gonna come willingly.” He tugs at my waist, and I’m unable to resist—I feel my body become jelly at his touch.
Which should not be happening. This rugged man took me against my will—I will not allow myself to melt under his touch.
He tells me to sit. I do. Then scoots in my chair.
“Fine,” I say, exaggeratedly. “But now you have to tell me why I’m here.”
He gives me that infuriatingly sexy smirk again. “I don’t have to tell you anything, Justine.”
I deflate, wanting to understand why I’m here and not making good on my auction. I hate thinking there is a man waiting for me.
“You know there is going to be a search party for me, that you won’t get away with this?”
“I understand,” he says, picking up his spoon.
“And you don’t care that you are committing a crime and will go to prison for this?“
“Honestly, I didn’t think that part through.”
“Well, you should have. Because even if you somehow convinced a judge to let you off, I’d sue you in civil court. Basically, you’re fucked.”
He sets down the spoon, leaning over the table, the cocky smirk gone and replaced with an intensity that could set this room on fire.
I set my elbows on the table and lean in too. We’re inches apart, and I feel myself burning up. The cabin is nice and cozy, but his body radiates a heat I’ve never understood before.
“Justine Van De Shire, sue me for all I’m worth, send me to prison. It’s still worth it.”
I scoff, confused beyond all get out. “Why?”
“Because I know what kind of man you need, and it’s not the one who bought you.”
I glare at him, hot and bothered and royally pissed off. “And I suppose you know what kind of man I need?”
“I do.”
“Let me guess,” I say flatly. “I need a man like you?”
His eyes betray him for a fraction of a moment and I see a flicker of indecision flash between us, but then it’s replaced with a kind confidence I can’t crack. “Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you here to try and sleep with you, Justine.”
I swallow, feeling embarrassed to assume he brought me here to have his way with me. And in some strange Stockholm syndrome way—I wanted him to want me. “You didn’t?”
He shakes his head. “No, I brought you here to make sure you left Alaska a virgin.”