“Your car. You remember it. Baby blue compact with rust around the door handles and what looked to be a key hanging from the mirror.”
“How did you…?”
“I’m very observant. That is, when I’m not blindfolded.” He leaned back against the couch, hands still tucked securely behind him.
“Darn, darn, and double darn!” She had never given that any thought. If she had, she would’ve blindfolded him at his truck.
“Kind of puts a kink in things, don’t it?” This time his smile was genuine.
She stepped forward and yanked the flimsy mask from his face. “You are every bit the ogre that people say you are, Brandon Barnes!”
His blue eyes rounded and then a dark brow eased upward. “Did you just say Brandon Barnes?”
“Yes.” The fire crackled behind her, but she no longer had need of its warmth. She was steaming. “You do remember your name, don’t you?”
“Yep.” A cocky grin moved across his face. “And it’s not Brandon. That’d be my brother.”
“No!” she gasped in horror.
He gave a husky chuckle. “Looks like you went and kidnapped yourself the wrong man.”
This wasn’t happening. “B…but the truck.”
“Borrowed.”
She grabbed the curling iron from the table and jabbed it at the opening in the front of his coat. “That’s not true!” she gasped. “You’re lying!”
“Afraid not.” Then, his gaze traveled downward and the humor left his eyes. “Son-of-a…”
She jumped back, the iron dropping to the floor at her feet.
His gaze followed it and then rose to meet hers. “You kidnapped me with a curling iron?”
It was hard to look him in the face, but she made herself do so anyway. “I don’t like guns.”
“Lucky for me,” he scoffed. “Now what? You gonna hold me for ransom?”
“Hmmm, now there’s a thought.” Crossing her arms, she flashed him a grin. “So tell me, how much does your brother like you?”
His expression darkened. “Lady, you’re getting yourself in deeper and deeper.”
“I was just kidding.” She shook her head. “You don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you?”
A lone brow arched threateningly. “Forgive me if I seem a bit pissed off, but I tend to get that way when I’ve been taken by gunpoint-”
“Curling iron,” she quickly corrected.
“Curling iron,” he growled. “Hogtied, blindfolded, and stuffed into a car that was made to be driven by midgets in a circus.”
Her smile faded. “Okay, so I messed up.
Now he knew she was crazy. Dalton clenched his teeth in anger. “I’d say you messed up big time.”
“I was desperate.”
“Lady-”
“Caitlin.”
“What?”
“My name is Caitlin.”
He looked up at her in amazement. She actually thought they were going to exchange pleasantries after what she had just put him through?
“All right, Caitlin, what is so dire in your life that you turned to kidnapping a man off the street in the middle of the night? Hell, in the middle of a snowstorm.”
A look of guilt moved across her pretty face. Dalton supposed if he was going to be kidnapped by anyone it might as well be by someone who was pleasant to look at. Not some scar-faced, pug-nosed hood with bad breath. And he’d been close enough to her to know hers was sweet with just a hint of peppermint. Funny how the other senses kicked in when one was disabled.
She settled onto the sofa beside him with a sigh. “It’s not my life. Well, it is, but it’s not.”
It appeared this was going to take a while. At least, the tequila was starting to clear from his head. “Sorry, but I’m not following you.”
“Camp Stoney Brook, as you must know since your family owns it, is a retreat for wayward teens.” She paused, looking around the small cabin room almost wistfully. “I’ve devoted my life to running this place.”
The biting wind rattled the windows as the storm picked up outside. The fire flickered and snapped in the hearth in front of him as his mouth fell open.
“Are you telling me we’re at Stoney Brook?”
She nodded. “I thought you knew.”
This was incredible. This woman had not only kidnapped him with a curling iron, she’d taken him to a place his family owned.
He shook his head. “No, it’s been quite a few years since I’ve been out here. I’ve been away riding the circuit.”
Her jade colored eyes rounded. “That’s you? The Dalton Barnes that took the rodeo circuit by storm?”
“The one and only.”
“I read about your dropping out. Why’d you quit? That is, if you don’t mind my asking.”
He had turned professional at twenty-one and now, ten years later, had finally given up the circuit and returned home to Montana.
“That kind of life takes a toll on a man’s body. I wanted out while it was on my own terms and not because I was getting too worn down to compete with some up and coming kid with his own set of dreams.”
“That’s understandable. No one can blame you for wanting to remain in one piece.”
“Yeah, well the circuit was my life. Leaving it was damn hard.” He groaned. Why in the hell was he discussing his career decisions with her?
She opened her mouth to reply, but the wind gusted outside, causing the cabin walls to creak and groan, distracting her from their conversation.
He followed her gaze to the front wall where the windows rattled violently against the force of the bitter, howling wind outside. He frowned. “Storm’s picking up.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Anyway, what does this crazy scheme of yours have to do with my brother?”
The look that came over her face was pained. “He’s planning to shut down the camp and build a resort. But I’m sure you already knew that.”
No, he didn’t. He had walked out on the family business a long time ago in search of something that had been missing in his life…excitement. Riding bulls had given him that.
Brandon had always been the one with a head for business, so as far as Dalton was concerned the family ranch and business investments were in good hands.
He shook his head. “I’m not involved in the business end of things and plan to keep it that way. What’s the big deal, anyway?”
Her expression was nothing short of appalled. “The big deal is this camp has helped turn around the lives of a lotta troubled teens, taught them things no one else cared enough to take the time to teach them. I should know. I’m living proof of that.”
Now why didn’t that surprise him? A grin moved across his face. “I see. And would that include lessons on how to kidnap people with curling irons?”
His last comment had her springing to her feet in anger. “It’s all a joke to you, isn’t it? You and your ogre of a brother!”
Grabbing her purse, his beautiful kidnapper started for the door.
“Hey, I was just kidding,” he called out. “Where are you going?”
Surely, she wasn’t just going to drive off and leave him shackled there like that. Considering the way things had gone for him that night, it was a definite possibility.
She cast an indignant glance over her shoulder. “I’m gonna warm up the car so I can take you back to town.”
He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, his bound arms aching. “Look, I’m sorry I upset you. I was just trying to make light of a bad situation. I can see this place means a lot to you.”
Her stiffened posture slowly relaxed. “More than you’ll ever know. I…I’d better go get the car started.”
He shot to his feet, wavering slightly in an attempt to catch his balance. “Caitlin…”
“Yes?”
“Do you think you could take these handcuffs off me first? This isn’t the most comfortable position to be in.”
“I…I’d better not.”
“Why not? I’m the wrong guy, remember? There’s no need for these anymore.”
“You’re a lot bigger than me. Not to mention angry with me. If I let you go, you might—”
He cut her off. “Look, I don’t hurt women. That’s not saying I’m thrilled to be in this predicament, but I’ve never laid a hand on a woman in anger and I sure as hell don’t intend to start now.”
“I really am sorry for the mix up.”
“I know you are.”
She quickly added, “But I don’t regret having done what I could to keep the retreat open. This was my last hope, and I messed it up royally.”
“You thought kidnapping my brother was gonna make him change his mind?” He laughed. “You don’t know Brandon. He doesn’t take well to having his back up against a wall. Be glad you got me instead.”
“I knew doing this would probably cost me my job.”
“Your job,” he replied with a snort. “Hell, kidnapping is a federal offense. I think you’d have lost more than just your job.”
“Would have? Does that mean you aren’t gonna call the police?”
“With what? My cell phone is lying on the seat of Brandon’s truck.”
“Oh.”
“Not that I’d call anyway,” he added with a frown. No way in hell was he going to call his brother to let him know what happened either.
She looked up at him in surprise. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He crossed the room to stand beside her, turning to give her better access to the cuffs so she that could remove them. “The last thing I wanna read in the paper is EX RODEO STAR KIDNAPPED BY CRAZED WOMAN WIELDING A CURLING IRON.”
“Don’t forget half-drunken.”
“Don’t push it, lady. I’ve been in a jail cell before. You don’t wanna be there.”
Her eyes rounded. “You’re an ex-con?”
Dalton chuckled. “Not exactly. Just got my ass tossed into jail along with a few of my rodeo buddies after a couple of alcohol-induced bar room fights.”
“So you have a drinking problem?”
“What are you? My therapist?”
“I could be.”
She almost sounded serious. “If anyone needs therapy here, it’s you. You just kidnapped me with a hair thing.”
“Curling iron,” she corrected.
He knew what it was. “So what exactly was your plan?” he asked, the sarcasm thick in his voice. “You intended to curl my brother’s hair until he gave in to your demands?”
Her lips actually quirked into a smile. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“Seems to me you didn’t think about much of anything. And to answer your question, no, I don’t have a drinking problem. I just seem to have a shit-for-luck problem, which means I have a tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tonight being proof of that.”
“So you really aren’t gonna turn me in?” she asked, nervously biting at her bottom lip.
The action drew his gaze to the plump pink flesh. His first thought was – tempting. But he reeled that thought in pretty damn quick. He was not about to fantasize about this woman, even if he was a sucker for big, beautiful green eyes.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said with a husky laugh. “But what happened tonight is something I’d rather no one ever find out about. So as long as you promise not to pull a stunt like this ever again, I’ll go my way and you can go yours.” He made enough mistakes of his own.
“I promise.”
“You know, there are other ways to go about settling problems.”
“What?”
“I’m just saying that you might have considered calling my brother and try reasoning with him.”
She opened her purse and dug through it. “Been there. Done that. Your brother is harder to reach than the President of the United States.”
“I’m sure he’s busy.”
“Busy my butt,” she snorted. “Your brother is doing his best to avoid me.” Her attempt to locate the key grew more frantic. “Where is it? I know I stuck it in here.”
“You lost the key?” Dalton said with a groan. He rolled his eyes. “Oh, hell.” The situation was just getting better and better.
CHAPTER TWO
“For your information, I didn’t lose the key,” Caitlin told him as she continued to rifle through all the pockets in her purse. “I put it in here yesterday, so it’s got to be in here somewhere.”
Dalton watched with a wide grin as the pile of discarded items grew. A plain black leather wallet. A hot pink hairbrush that folded in half. A deck of cards. A handful of peppermint candies. And two packs of Bubble Yum.
“Bubble Yum?”
She looked up at him. “I happen to like blowing bubbles.”
Hmmm…yet even another side to his crazy but beautiful kidnapper.
She held the purse upside down and shook it, emptying everything out onto the scarred wooden end table. A travel-size pack of tissues. Tylenol. Sunglasses. A nail file. And two tubes of flavored lip balm that had his thoughts returning to her lips. It appeared that their deep pink color was au natural.
“You got a kitchen sink in there, too?” he asked with a nod, forcing his thoughts to something other than her incredibly sexy mouth.
Her panicked expression eased into a smile as she paused to look up at him again. “Afraid not. I only carry the necessities.”
Which obviously didn’t include the handcuff key from the look of things, but she hadn’t given up. He studied her closely as she continued her search for the missing key. What kind of life could she have had growing up that led her to a place like Stoney Brook? She didn’t exactly come across as one of those hardened, street-smart, runaway teens that spent summers at the retreat his father had started when Dalton was just a boy. Even if she was a kidnapper.
“Caitlin…”
“Yes?” she muttered, resuming her search.
“When you mentioned running this place, what did you mean?”
“Just what I said. I’m camp director here. Have been since I graduated from college.”
“How old are you?”
Her head snapped up, her gaze meeting his. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s not polite to ask a woman her age?” Just when he was about to apologize, a slow smile spread across her face. “Lucky for you, I don’t have a problem with it. I’m twenty-eight. How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm? What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged as she dug into one of the purse’s side pockets. Again. “I don’t know. I just thought you were older than that.”
“Yah, well, ten years on the circuit can do that to a man,” he said matter-of-factly. “You find that key yet?”
“No,” she replied with a frustrated sigh. “It must have fallen out when I helped you out of the car. I’ll go out and look for it.” Dropping her empty purse atop the pile of scattered belongings on the table, she turned and started for the door.
“Caitlin…” he called out again.
Hand on the doorknob she glanced back at him, moisture filling those big, beautiful emerald eyes. “Yeah?”
“It’s gonna be alright.” The words spilled out before he’d had a chance to reconsider saying them. What on earth was he thinking giving this woman reassurances? One who’d dragged him out to his family’s retreat against his will.
“I sure hope so. For the kids’ sake.”
“We’ll work something out.” Damn it all, there he went again – making promises when he was in no position to guarantee her anything.
Nodding halfheartedly, she opened the door to leave. Only a powerful gust of wind caught it, wrenching it from her grasp. She let out a startled shriek as the door slammed into the inside cabin wall with a resounding thud. Snow that had piled up at the threshold spilled in over her shoes in a glistening blanket of white.
Dalton cursed, wishing his hands were free to help as she
struggled to close the door against the storm’s fury. Her size wasn’t much force against the relentless wind. He moved to stand beside her, turning his head to avoid the wildly whipping strands of long auburn hair.
“Hold onto it,” he ordered over the howling wind. “I’ll get my shoulder behind it and help push the door shut!”
“I can’t,” she replied in a panicked cry.
The fire hissed and sparked as the wind gusted across the room. “Come on, Caitlin, you’re a hell of a lot tougher than that. Push!”
He stepped up beside her, putting his shoulder into the effort. Together, they forced the door shut and then turned, sagging against it.
“So much for finding the key,” she muttered as she shook the snow from her hair.
Even in her windblown state, she looked sexy. Maybe he should have left the door open. The chilly air would have helped keep his head clear and his body less responsive to this sexy, green-eyed cowboy-napper.
He looked down at her. “I sure hope you thought to bring along some food. From the look of things we’re bound to be here a while.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes widening. “We’re stranded?”
He nodded with a frown. “Afraid so.”
She grabbed at the front of his shirt, curling her slender fingers into the thick cotton as she clutched it tight. “We can’t be. I need to get back to town and find some way to convince your brother not to go through with his plans to close this place.”
“Ain’t happening tonight.”
Stubborn little thing she was, she shook her head, refusing to accept the truth of their situation. “I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”
“I agree.” Pressing his length against her until she was effectively pinned to the door, Dalton lowered his mouth to hers. A man didn’t need the use of his arms to kiss a woman.
Caitlin stiffened in surprise, her fingers flattening against his shirt. No doubt to push him away.
He deepened the kiss, determined to teach her a lesson. A woman couldn’t just up and kidnap a man at whim. Even worse, damage his pride by doing it with a damned curling iron of all things.
Instead of pushing him away, she leaned into him with a soft sigh, her fingers curling into his shirt again. Her lips melded to his in welcome surrender. The faint taste of peppermint stirred his senses as his tongue swept over her full lips.
KIDNAPPED COWBOY Page 2
