of the honesty in what he'd just said - that he wanted her.
And as much as she wanted to deny it, deep down, that knowledge made her burn just a little to know Rio's touch.
She couldn't speak. Her feet started moving beneath her, pulling her back from the door. Back to reality, she hoped, because what she'd just been considering was not only unrealistic but downright stupid. She padded over to the bed and got in, sitting there with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms locked tightly around her shins.
There would be no more sleep for her tonight.
Chapter Twelve
She didn't expect to see him in her room first thing that morning.
Dylan came out of the guest suite's spacious shower and dried off with one of the half dozen luxurious towels folded neatly on a built-in shelf in the bathroom. She rubbed out most of the water from her hair, then threw on the last of her clean clothes from her bag. The layered double camisoles and drawstring capris were rumpled, but it wasn't like she had anyone to impress. Barefoot, her damp hair clinging to her bare arms, she opened the bathroom door and padded out to the main room.
And there he was.
Rio, seated in the chair near the door, waiting for her to come out.
Dylan stopped short, startled to find him there.
"I knocked," he said, a strangely considerate thing, coming from her kidnapper. "You didn't answer, so I wanted to make sure you were all right."
"Seems like I should be asking you the same thing." She cautiously walked farther into the main area of the suite. Although there was no reason she should be concerned about the man who was holding her against her will, she was still rattled by what she'd heard in the other room a few hours ago. "What happened to you last night? You sounded like you were in pretty bad shape."
He didn't offer an explanation, just stared at her from across the dim room. Looking at him now, she had to wonder if she'd imagined the whole thing. Dressed in a dove gray tee-shirt and tailored charcoal pants, his dark hair perfectly swept back from his face, he looked well rested and relaxed. Still his broody man-of-few-words self, but less on edge somehow. In fact, he looked as though he'd slept like a baby for a full night straight, while Dylan herself felt like roadkill after lying awake speculating about him since the predawn hours.
"You might want to tell your friends that they need to fix the timer on the blinds in here," she said, gesturing to the tall window that should be bathing the room with daylight but was instead blocked by the remote-controlled window shades. "They opened on their own last night, then closed before sunrise. Functionality's a bit backward, don't you think? Nice view, by the way, even in the dark. What lake is that out back - the Wannsee? It's kind of big to be the Grunewaldsee or the Teufelssee, and based on all the old trees surrounding this place, I'm guessing we have to be somewhere near the Havel River. That's where we are, right?"
No reaction from the other side of the room, except for a slow exhale as Rio watched her with dark, unreadable eyes.
He'd brought her breakfast. Dylan strolled over to the squat table and dainty sofa in the center of the parlor area, where a bone china plate containing an omelette, sausage links, roasted potatoes, and a thick slab of toast waited. There was a glass of orange juice, coffee, and a starched white linen napkin tucked beneath a gleaming set of real silver flatware. She couldn't resist the coffee as she wandered over to have a look at everything he brought her. She dropped two sugar cubes into the cup, then poured in enough whole cream to turn the coffee a light shade of tan, sweet and milky, just the way she liked it.
"You know, apart from the incarceration portion of my stay, I have to admit that you folks certainly know how to treat your hostages."
"You're not a hostage, Dylan."
"No, a prisoner is more like it. Or does your kind , as you put it, prefer a less obvious term - detainee, maybe?"
"You are none of those things."
"Well, great!" she replied with mock excitement. "Then when can I go home?"
She didn't really expect him to answer. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his long legs, one ankle propped on