She yanked her attention to his hands. He held something shiny and delicate and metallic.
“Hairpins?” she asked.
He lowered his voice, even though they were alone in the chilly cargo hold and the roar of the engine would make it impossible for anyone outside to hear them. “Lockpicks. I had them concealed in a hidden seam in my pants.”
Her voice rose in exasperation. “You’ve had lockpicks this entire time, and you lay here chit-chatting instead of using them?”
Aggravated, he said, “I’ve been trying to get them out this entire time. My hands are cuffed behind my back, remember? Now roll over so your hands are next to mine, and I’ll get your cuffs off.”
“Can you really do that?”
He snorted. “No, I carry them solely as a treasured keepsake.”
“I really hope you’re being sarcastic.”
“Of course I can use them,” he snapped. “Now roll over, unless you like lying on a freezing cold floor with your shoulders pulled halfway out of their sockets.”
She did not. Fen rolled over, which was not at all comfortable while handcuffed, wriggled closer to him, then writhed down until their hands were level. At least his back was turned too, so he wouldn’t see her squirming on the floor like an earthworm.
She stopped when their hands touched. It was remarkable how much you could observe by feel alone. His hands were big, with his nails cut short and nicely buffed. She could feel the shapes of calluses and a few little scars, but like his nails, his hands were well cared-for. No rough edges. His movements felt practiced and competent as he manipulated the tiny lockpicks.
“How’d you learn to do this?” she asked.
“My teammate—I mean, an associate of mine—taught me. Merlin said to think of it as playing Jenga with a stack of very fragile, very expensive, blown glass vases.”
The image of Carter doing exactly that leaped into her mind. The vases in her mental image had big bright flowers on them, like a stained glass window, and he handled them with almost sensual delicacy.
Her mind bounced away from that image, jumping to the luxuriant sensation of the heat of his hands. The airplane was cold, and her hands especially had been freezing. Carter’s hands were deliciously warm.Carterwas deliciously warm. They were close enough that she could bask in his body heat even without directly touching. If his clothes were off, it would be even better…
Stop it,she scolded herself.He’s your enemy. Imagining him naked is gross.
Her treacherous mind responded with a detailed and vivid image of Carter naked. It was annoyingly not gross.
“Does it distract you to talk?” she asked, though it was obvious that unlike her, he had no trouble focusing. But it was the first thing that came to her mind to get it off the Carter-feels-so-good and Carter-would-look-so-good track.
“No, it’s fine,” he said.
Of course it’s fine. Everything comes easily to the great Carter Howe.
She gritted her teeth, torn between bitterness at that thought, general aggravation with him, guilt for being aggravated with him when he was trying to rescue her, hope that they really would be rescued, and frustration with her own uncooperative mind. Why did she have to work so hard to do normal things like paying attention?
“How did you get here?” Carter asked.
As if he didn’t know! Her fists clenched involuntarily, making the cuffs jerk. His hands twitched, clutching at the picks.
“I got a call from youroffice,” she said. “You demanded a meeting with me to discuss my hostile takeover of Howe Enterprises. You said if you didn’t get one, the next call would be from your lawyers.”
“Ididn’t say anything,” he retorted. “You got a call from some person claiming to be from my office. For the record, I got a call supposedly from your office, saying the exact same thing. And also for the record, Little Bit isn’t going to get its little paws on my company.”
“Just you wait,” she said automatically, but the cuffs clinked gently as her hands relaxed. Begrudgingly, she said, “I guess I believe you. Given that you’re handcuffed too. I went to get some coffee before the call, and someone jumped me. They stuck a cloth over my face that smelled like chemicals. It was some knockout drug. I woke up here. What about you?”
“Very similar. I left a—” He broke off abruptly.
“Yes?” Fen inquired when he didn’t continue. “You left a… important meeting? A bomb threat? Six naked supermodels?”
She couldn’t see his face, but she couldfeelhim rolling his eyes. “A barbecue with my team— I left a barbecue. After getting the fake call from your office. I got jumped too. And here I am.”
“Here we are,” she corrected him. “Well, it’s obvious what happened.”
