The Hostage Bride by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online Page A

seemed about to say something, but no indignant outburst came. She hadn’t objected to the kiss and she was honest enough not to pretend otherwise, a rare quality indeed. Saying nothing, she moved to slide into the passenger seat and Bick closed the door to walk around to the driver’s side.
    After she had given him her address, Bick drove the car out of the parking lot into thestreet. Stopped at the corner traffic light, Tamara thought to ask, “Do you need directions?”
    “No, I can find it.”
    “Do you live here in Kansas City?” With his attention on the changing light and the flow of traffic, she was able to study the bold lines of his profile—all hard, male angles.
    “Yes.”
    No doubt in Johnson County, Tamara thought, and lapsed into silence to hold court over her conflicting emotions. She had known he was going to kiss her, so why hadn’t she stopped him? Obviously she would have been a hypocrite to protest afterward, when she had made it plain she had enjoyed it.
Enjoyed—
it was such a tame word to describe the raw wonder she had felt.
    An assortment of fast food restaurants flanked both sides of the street, clustering together to compete for trade the way they always seemed to do. Although it wasn’t yet sunset, their neon lights were luring customers in.
    “If I can’t persuade you to let me take you to dinner, at least you can let my buy you a quick sandwich,” Bick persisted.
    Tamara wanted to agree. Whatever the force was that drew her to him, it was potent, but she retained a grip on her priorities and gave a negative shake of her head.
    “I honestly have to go home.” At his skeptical glance, she realized her steadfast determination required an explanation. She was neither afraid nor playing a game. “My … my mother isn’t well.”
    “You live with your parents?”
    “With my mother. My father died when I was small.” Here was her chance, the opening to explain the extenuating circumstances that had prompted her to “borrow” the money. Somehow her tongue became all tied up in knots.
    “I meant what I said earlier. I am going to insist that I take you to lunch tomorrow to make up for tonight. Agreed?” Beneath the challenge, there was a low threat.
    Tamara smothered the phrase that was almost becoming redundant and didn’t protest that it wasn’t necessary. Instead she lifted a shoulder in an attempt at indifference. “You’re the boss.”
    A little voice inside her head said, why not? Why keep fighting the fact that he’s obviously attracted to you and make use of it? Have lunch with him tomorrow. Maybe even flirt with him a little. If he likes you, he will be more apt to understand. Why not have two aces up your sleeve instead of one? When Tamara’s gaze strayed to his relentless features, another voice asked, was that wise?
    “Which house?” Bick questioned, suddenly turning to catch her staring.
    With a self-conscious start, Tamara realized they had reached the block where she lived. “The white one with the green shutters.” Bick stopped the car at the curb in front of it. Tamara searched for the door handle and couldn’t find it. “I think the car makers make a game out of changing the location of door handles in every car so people will have to play hide-and-seek to find it,” she muttered.
    Bick leaned over to reach across and lift the handle hidden in the armrest. His push swung the car door ajar. He didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to touch her, although his face was briefly very close to hers.
    Sitting once again behind the wheel, he said, “Lunch. Twelve o’clock sharp.”
    “Yes,” Tamara agreed on a breathless note, and tried to conceal the wish that he would kiss her again. “Thanks for the ride.”
    His gaze watched her lips form the words with unnerving interest, but he didn’t reply or attempt to stop her from getting out of the car. Tamara was conscious that the car remained parked at the curb until she had reached the front door