Virgin In Disguise

Time for a little more trust-building. “Actually, I never said.”

“You aren’t really a Fed, are you?” An undercurrent of anger shaded her words.

“No.”

He heard something that sounded suspiciously like “Sanibel.” Was she more pissed off that he hadn’t told her the truth or that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion? “If it makes you feel any better, I was with the ATF up until about a year ago.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” Nothing he’d talk about. “Just time for a change.”

“Are you freelance or part of an agency?”

“The Diamond Group is a moderate-sized, highly respected private investigation firm in Washington D.C.”

“Isn’t that nice. What’s it got to do with you?”

No more assumptions on her part. He smiled. She learned quick. “I’m on the staff.”

“So, what are you doing in Minneapolis?”

“We’ve been contracted to look into an old case that never closed.”

“Who hired you?”

He shook his head. “There we’re getting into client confidentiality. You can appreciate that, I’m sure.”

The distortions of the window didn’t lessen the impact of her glare at him. He waited for her next question.

“If you can’t tell me who your client is, will you tell me what you’re investigating?”

“Arson.”

She straightened and their eyes met in the dark glass.

“I don’t suppose you can tell me what you’ve learned.”

“Sorry, Elf. I’m a long ways from writing the final report. Especially with this unexpected interruption in my schedule.”

Her sigh told him his little dig had landed on target. He wiped his hands and draped the dish towel over the dishes in the drainer. When he turned around, he caught her in midyawn.

“Tired?” He glanced at the clock on the wall then double-checked the time with his watch. It was nearly one in the morning. “Strange. It’s late, but I’m not that tired. In fact, I’m feeling rather well-rested.”

She scowled at him. “We’re back to my problem. How am I going to secure you for the night?”

“Do you suppose the owner of this place is into bondage? Maybe he has an extra set of cuffs….”

Elf turned a furious red from her collarbone to her scalp. He grinned. “Guess not, huh?”

“I would find it highly unlikely.”

“So this place isn’t yours? Who does own it?”

“My…uncle.” Her slight hesitation didn’t escape his notice. “He was good enough to let me borrow the cabin for the weekend.”

“Cabin?” He looked around at the butcher-block counters and stainless steel appliances. The kitchen was as well-equipped as his back home. If the rest of the house was as modern, it would fit right into some of the newer housing developments he’d seen around the Twin Cities area.

“Oh, don’t even go there. It’s ostentatious and ridiculous, I know. He never had a family of his own to spend his money on, so it all went to…stuff. I wish he could have found better use—” Her mouth snapped shut with a sharp click of teeth. “Turn around.”

She had him cuffed and moving towards the stairs before he could figure out what her outburst might mean. He tucked the information away for later.

Upstairs, the bedrooms carried through on the promise of the first floor. Decorated in what some designer probably considered rustic charm, the rooms reminded him of a bed-and-breakfast he’d stayed in once. He’d intended for that weekend outing to end with a romantic proposal. Then he’d discovered the truth about his almost-fiancée’s “love.” He shied away from any more memories of the disaster he’d barely avoided.

They stopped just inside the door of the second bedroom. It was the smallest and farthest from the top of the stairs. Colorful rag rugs warmed the hardwood floor. The bed was a roomy queen with a Shaker-style headboard.

“Good. I hoped this bed was still here.” She nudged him into the room. “This will work just fine.” The gym bag she’d carried up landed on top of the blanket chest at the foot of the bed.

“You’re pretty familiar with the place.”

“We used to come up here during the summer when I was little, but I haven’t been since high school.” She motioned him farther into the room. “I wasn’t sure how much of the furniture I remembered would still be here.”

“You and your uncle?”

“And Mom.” A sad tone entered her voice. Another bit of information for future consideration.

She zipped open the bag and pulled out a few items. “The bathroom.” She nodded toward the door and followed him into the short hall.

The two smaller bedrooms shared a bathroom with a single entrance from the hallway. She turned on the light and stepped aside for him to enter. As she unlocked the cuffs, his quick recon of the room revealed pretty much what he’d expected. No second door and no window big enough for him to squeeze through to freedom.

He turned to face her and she pushed the small pile of items into his hands. “Five minutes. Plenty of time for you to come up with some sort of weapon. Unless you’re serious about wanting me to trust you.” She stepped back and pulled the door closed.

He set the soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, all still in their wrappers, on the counter and shook out the last item.

“Hey, Elf. What are the shorts for?”

“To sleep in.”

“I don’t normally—”

“This isn’t normal. This is Minnesota and you’ll sleep in shorts.”

“Testy, testy.” He smothered a chuckle and silently thanked her for the foresight. Sleeping in the nude might be his preference, but he didn’t care for that sort of exposure in this sort of situation.

Between his boxers and the shorts, he might stand a chance of disguising the evidence of his body’s intense reaction to her every time she got close to him.

Three minutes later, two minutes before she intended to pound on the door and roust him, the bathroom door swung open to reveal a half-naked Frank Cabrini.

Angel’s breath caught in her throat. Helsinki. He’s gorgeous. Broad shoulders, defined muscles, golden tan. A light dusting of coal-black hair covered his chest, narrowing over his six-pack abs and disappearing into the waistband of the navy knit shorts she’d picked up as an afterthought.