An Heiress on His Doorstep

“It’s in wonderful shape,” she said, rubbing her hand over the wood surface. The cuff scraped against the edge and she quickly grabbed it. “Sorry. I’ll be glad to get rid of this.”

He picked up the bolt cutters he’d found in the tool-shed. “Okay, give me your hand.”

“I’m going to pray you didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Big, beautiful brown eyes stared at the large tool in his hand. “You’re not going to cut off my hand with that, are you?”

His gaze lowered to the button on her silk blouse that held the material together over her firm breasts. “I’m going to cut off the cuff, unless you’ve got a key tucked away somewhere.”

The idea of fishing for it sent a shaft of heat straight to his groin. He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, but, unfortunately, that didn’t shut down his appreciation of her attributes.

“Regrettably, when the kidnapper pealed rubber on the highway as he drove off, he didn’t toss me the key.”

“A simple no would suffice.”

“We’d all like things we can’t have. For instance,” she said, “I’d like whoever’s behind this kidnapping in these cuffs.”

“Me, too.” He met her gaze and waited for her to blink. She didn’t.

“He probably didn’t pull it off by himself,” she said, with what seemed like studied casualness.

“I came to the same conclusion.”

“Really? How about that? We agree on something.”

He was just sliding the bolt cutters beneath the circle of metal on her delicate wrist when he looked up and saw her smile. He was struck by the fact that she was quite remarkably beautiful. As those shock waves hit him, his hand slipped.

She snatched hers back. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing with those things? One of us could get hurt.”

“This isn’t rocket science,” he snapped, annoyed with himself for the lapse.

“Neither is kidnapping. What do you suppose the penalty is for abducting someone against their will?”

“Penalty?”

“Yeah, as in it’s against the law. And when a person breaks the law, there’s a cost for it. Like jail time,” she added.

“I suppose so.”

“And what about accomplices? Coconspirators?”

What the hell was she doing? Was it like hiding in plain sight? Throw him off her trail by discussing the transgression? “What about them?”

“Do you think the punishment for a crime is as stiff for the brawn as it is for the brains behind it?” she asked sweetly.

“I have no idea. What do you think?”

“I think everyone involved should pay big time.”

“Me, too.” He let out a breath and started attempt number two to slide the bolt cutters beneath the circle on her arm. This time he didn’t make the mistake of looking at her.

“So you think jail time is appropriate?”

He kept his eyes on the metal. “Whoever hatched a kidnapping scheme to swindle money and anyone who goes along with said scheme should be locked up. And the key thrown away.”

The cuff was closed as far as it would go, but her wrist was so slender he easily had enough room to get the jaws of the tool between the metal and her flesh. The inside of her arm was pale, a stark contrast to the tan on her forearm. Her skin looked soft, smooth. He lined up the blades of the cutter very carefully. In spite of her sneaky actions, he had no desire to hurt her. Then he pressed the handles of the bolt cutter together and felt the stiff resistance. This wasn’t going to be like a hot knife through butter.

“Do you think those things would cut through the bars of a jail cell?” she asked.

“No.” What was it with her and retribution? She was the one flirting with a felony. But if he confronted her, she’d only deny it. No point in wasting his breath.

However, he wished big time that the scent of her skin didn’t remind him so much of twisted sheets, temptation and sin. The perfume she was wearing smelled subtle, expensive. A tool of her trade as surely as the one he was using.

“Hold still,” he warned, exerting more pressure on the bolt-cutter’s handles.

“Like I would make a sudden move when you’ve got the jaws of death on my arm.” She watched his progress in silence for several moments. “It occurs to me that if a felon has enough money, he can hire some high-powered legal counsel.”

“What does that mean?”

“It seemed an obvious statement of fact to me. There are stories in the news all the time about crooks who get off after hiring pricey legal eagles.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She glanced around the large kitchen. “I’d say you have a few bucks.”

“You think?” he asked. She knew darn good and well he did. “What was your first clue?”

He pressed the handles together with as much force as he dared and felt the blades come together as they cut completely through the metal. He put down the tool, then worked the cuff off her wrist.

“Paupers don’t live in palaces,” she pointed out, meeting his gaze.

“No, princesses do.”

She looked startled for a moment, but recovered quickly. “Are you looking for a princess?”

“No.” Heaven forbid.

“Good thing.” She rubbed her wrist, now free of the handcuff. “But if you change your mind, you might try adding diamonds to that bracelet before you put it on a girl’s wrist next time.”

He stared at her, surprised at her boldness. “I didn’t put that bracelet on this time. The kidnapper did.” He studied the gleam in her eyes, the rebellious lift of her chin. “For a woman who’s been recently traumatized, you seem to be taking it all in stride.”

“I suppose the silver lining of amnesia is that you can’t remember trauma. It’s the mind’s way of protecting itself,” she said calmly.

“It just seems to me that someone who’s gone through a kidnapping then lost her memory over the whole thing would be more shaken up from the experience. You seem to be handling it very well. Pretty scrappy.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a scrappy sort of gal.”

“Is that a memory returning?”

“No. Probably just my natural personality coming out. Trauma may have stolen my memories, but it won’t keep me down.” She stood and touched the twisted metal he’d just removed from her wrist. “Next time remember diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”