“Like a bed-and-breakfast type of thing?”
“I’d be the perfect host. Easygoing. Attentive as well as accommodating.”
For a moment she stared at him. “You’re joking, right?”
He held his neutral expression for a moment before his lips twitched.
“Was that an attempt at humor?” When he stole her away from her life, she’d seen him as a rigid, one-dimensional secret agent man. And then he’d revealed a glimpse of his childhood. The confounded cat liked him, and now this.
“Did it work?”
Elissa gave herself a mental shake. He might be more complex and vulnerable than she expected, but she was still here against her will. No way should she let her guard down.
“Help yourself to whatever you want. The housekeeper keeps the kitchen stocked with food and plenty to drink.”
Something to help take off the edge so she could fall asleep would be welcome. “Dare I hope you have wine?”
“Lady’s choice. Red or white?”
“Something crisp, a little sweet. Maybe a chardonnay?”
He pulled out a bottle from a small refrigerator tucked beneath the island. “Will this work?”
Elissa recognized the label and grinned with satisfaction. As far as being kidnapped was concerned, maybe this wasn’t so awful. “Do I thank you or Eric?”
“My experience with wine is limited. I’ve been told reds go with beef, while whites go with seafood or chicken. I have no idea about pink.”
“I think you mean rosé.”
“See what I mean? And then someone else told me to forget the rules and that you should drink whatever the hell you want.” He extracted the cork. “I know slightly more about whiskey, and I definitely have preferences when it comes to beer.” He offered her the drink.
“Thank you.” She took a long, leisurely sip. Now if she had a bathtub to soak in, life would be complete.
“I’ll show you to your room.”
She followed him up the stairs into a large bedroom dominated by an oversize bed. The comforter was thick and fluffy, and at least ten pillows encouraged her to bury in and create a nest.
“The closet is this way.”
On a shelf were two large boxes.
“As Hawkeye promised.” Jacob opened one and pulled out a cell phone and offered it to her. “It’s secure, and you can contact your parents at any time.”
Elissa put down her wineglass to accept the device. It was fully charged, and there was already a text from her dad, letting her know they’d been updated on the situation, had things under control, and were anxious to talk to her as soon as she was able to call.
The message reassured her.
She typed a quick response, informing them she’d arrived safely and would be in touch soon.
“Obviously we’d prefer you not tell anyone else your whereabouts.” Without waiting for a response, he continued the tour. “Your bathroom is over here.”
Her mouth fell open. It was massive, luxurious, spa-like with a sophisticated-looking steam shower, and her greatest wish had been answered—a soaker tub. A long white robe hung from a hook on the back of the door. This was as classy as the best hotels she’d stayed at. “Are you kidding me?”
A sudden grin transformed his features, making him seem younger, somewhat less formidable. Standing this close, in intimate quarters, arousal galloped through her. “I take it you’re not unhappy?”
This time, she was sure it wasn’t just the lack of sleep that was affecting her hormones. It was also a result of the alcohol’s slow burn.
Turning away from him, she cleared her throat. Unfortunately it didn’t help to tame her heart’s frantic response to his overwhelming masculinity.
She struggled to pretend this was a normal situation. “This is about the size of my entire apartment.” And she wasn’t sure she’d be able to return home after being cocooned in this kind of luxury. “Are you sure you haven’t given me the master suite?”
“I’m downstairs. In another wing. I’ll include it in tomorrow’s tour of the grounds.”
That sounded as dangerous as it was tempting.
“I’m sure you’ll be safe here, but that button next to the light switch”—he pointed—“is for emergency situations. There’s another on the nightstand. You’ll find them in every room of the house. I’ll be alerted twenty-four seven, no matter where I am. Don’t hesitate to use it. I’d rather it be a false alarm than take a risk with your safety.”
Hating the reminder of why she was here, she nodded.
“Sleep as late as you want. We’re not on a time schedule.”
“At this point, I might not see you until this evening.”
“In that case we’ll have dinner instead of breakfast. Good night.”
He left, closing the door behind him.
She remained where she was, listening for his receding footsteps. They never came.
A full minute later, she toed off her shoes. She contemplated falling face-first onto the bed. But there was no way she could sleep in the clothes she’d worked in, traveled in.
A yawn overtook her, and she decided to take a shower rather than a bath since it would be faster.
Thoughtfully, a dispenser had been filled with shampoo, conditioner, and even lavender-scented soap.
After turning off the water, she wrapped her hair in a towel, then dried herself. Then, unable to resist, she snuggled into the warm, thick robe before crossing to the closet to see what Hawkeye had sent.
One box was filled with electronics, and the other contained her personal items. Cosmetics, hairbrushes, shoes, socks, jeans, shorts, tops for every possible temperature, jackets, sports bras, panties…
Dear God. Let it have been Kayla who’d gone through her dresser drawers.
Elissa dug to the bottom and found no pajamas.
No doubt it had been Hawkeye who selected everything. Damn it.
From somewhere close, the unmistakable rumble of Jacob’s voice reached her. Curious, and hoping she could borrow a T-shirt, she left the room.
Down the hallway, a light blazed, and she walked toward it. Like a moth to a flame?
When she found Jacob, she froze.
He was seated behind a console, and in front of him were numerous large screens split into sections that contained a video feed. Most of the images were of the outdoors—the gate, dirt road, driveway, front door, sides of the house, and the patio. Others showed pictures of the home’s interior, including the kitchen, living room, entryway, and a bedroom with a king-size bed with navy blue comforter. His?
“Elissa.” He spoke without looking toward her.
How did he know she was there?
He tapped an icon and removed his headset. “Is there something you need?”
“Have you been spying on me?” She dragged the robe’s lapels close together, as if that would protect her. “Are you some sort of sick pervert who gets his jollies out of something like that?”
“No.” He spun in his chair, but he didn’t get up. “To both of your questions.”
“Oh.” She exhaled her flare of indignation.
“Come here.”
She didn’t want to. Shouldn’t. “I—”
“Come here.”