Lost in Italy by Stacey Joy Netzel Read Free Book Online Page B

lied.
    And you know what else?  She might not want him to think she trusted him, but handing over her personal stuff told a whole other story.  Tension eased from his shoulders, allowing him to relax for the first time in the past couple hours.
    ****
    Wrapped in a luxuriant, navy, terry-cloth robe she’d found hanging on the back of the door, Halli moved the chair aside and opened the bathroom door to peek into the silent room beyond.  She blew out a heavy sigh of relief when she saw her famous kidnapper had not set up camp on the bed.  The other emotion tickling her stomach she staunchly refused to identify.
    Time to get dressed and set her plan in motion.  As long as she had a plan to execute, orderly steps to focus on in her head, she could keep from dissolving into a mindless idiot.
    Just before the door clicked shut again, she noticed some items on the bed that hadn’t been there before.  A single sheet of white paper rested on top.  Curiosity got the better of her and she hurried across the floor, her toes sinking into the plush carpeting.
    Thought you’d appreciate some clean clothes.
    “What, no honey?”  She crumpled the neatly printed note in her fist.  “Sweetheart?  Sugar Pie ?”
    Laid out front and center were skimpy bikini underwear and two satin bras; one black, one white.  Heat rose in her face at the thought of Trent Tomlin picking out underwear for her.  She didn’t even want to know where any of them came from.
    Pushing those items aside, she eyed the other choices of tops and pants spread out on the intricately quilted bedspread, wanting so badly to walk away, but at the same time cringing at the thought of putting her smelly, grimy travel clothes back on.
    No .  She didn’t want a darn thing from the man.
    She took two steps back to the bathroom before her resistance waffled.  The material had felt so soft when she’d brushed the lingerie out of the way.  They probably wouldn’t even fit, so, what could it hurt to try them on, right?  Then at least she could wear her old clothes without thinking twice about the clean ones.
    Selecting a pair of lightweight jean Capri’s was easy, and they were close enough to her size.  The shirts were another matter.  A blue, backless halter top she tossed aside without a second glance.  The sheer, black button-up blouse was quick to follow.  That left her with a white, V-necked, baby doll T-shirt, size small, the least offensive of the three— if it weren’t for the words Wet & Wild emblazoned in blue rhinestones across the front.
    Considering she’d seen the women the arrogant jerk dated, she was not surprised by the limited options.  At least those women had the body and the confidence for these clothes.  Heck, if she strutted around on Trent Tomlin’s arm, maybe she would, too.
    With an annoyed frown, Halli snatched up the underwear and clothes, and returned to the bathroom, reminding herself she had no time to waste.  The Capri’s were a little tighter than she usually wore, and obviously made for someone much taller, but comfortable, none-the-less.  She rolled up the extra length a few times before pulling the white top over her head.
    Flipping her damp hair back over shoulders, she eyed herself in the mirror.  The T-shirt sucked tight to every inch it touched; shoulders, chest, stomach and hips.  Her breasts stood out, additionally highlighted by the rhinestones that stretched across the shirt’s velvet-soft material. Good God, if she got cold, the thin satin bra would hide nothing.  Heck, even now, her nipples puckered at the mere thought.
    She reached for the hem to take it off when a muted noise reached her ears in the otherwise quiet house.  She paused and held her breath.  Was that the garage door opening?  Chances were Trent was near the garage, too, which put him clear across the house from her.  This might be her only opportunity to escape.
    Halli bent down and dug into the pocket of her sweat pants for the