CHAPTER TWELVE
“Pardon me?” Her heart leapt into her throat.
“You heard me. Take your pants off.”
“If this is some kind of a joke…”
“It’s no joke, Colette. Running will be a lot less attractive to you if you’re only wearing a T-shirt.” He grabbed the jeans she’d been wearing before she’d showered and looked at her expectantly. “Now please, don’t make me physically remove those pants from you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she exclaimed, rising from the bed to face him.
He grinned, as always the gesture not quite alleviating the shadows in his eyes. “Don’t tempt me.” He hesitated a moment. “What are you afraid of, Colette?” His voice was as silky smooth as a snake oil salesman’s.
“Nothing. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not afraid of anything,” she countered.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll make sure this will be the only time I’ll force you to take your pants off for me.”
“Oh, honestly.” She quickly removed the sweatpants, grateful for the length of the T-shirt. His gaze swept the length of her bare legs, making her wish the shirt extended to the floor. Beneath the heat of his eyes she felt far too vulnerable, and the vulnerability created anger. “There,” she exclaimed as she threw the pants to him.
“Thank you,” he returned evenly. “And as I said, I won’t force you to take them off again.” A wicked smile curved his lips and his dark eyes gleamed with a heat that burned her from across the room. “The next time you take them off for me, it will be because you want to.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he picked up the bag of items he’d bought and disappeared into the bathroom.
Colette fought the impulse to throw something at the door, vent her frustration, the rage his arrogant self-assurance provoked. And the thing that frustrated her most was the possibility that he might be right.
She finished combing her hair, then settled back against the headboard on the bed where Brook slept. She couldn’t deny that she was sexually attracted to Hank, but that certainly didn’t mean she intended to follow through on the attraction.
She had to hold on to her belief that before her amnesia, before she’d overheard the dreadful conversation that had placed her in this situation, there had been a man in her life, a special man whom she’d loved. Brook’s father. Whoever he was, she just knew she’d loved him to distraction and she wouldn’t sully that love by indulging herself in a few moments of lust with Hank Cooper.
The sound of the running shower filled the room. She thought about turning on the television, then decidednot to, preferring the relative silence to the sitcom reruns that would be on at this time of the night.
What were Abby and Belinda doing at this moment? She frowned as she imagined their horror. They’d discover quickly not only that she was missing, but also that her window had been shot out and bullet holes decorated the wall of her room.
If only she could call them, just let them know she and Brook were all right. She looked at the phone and frowned, remembering Hank had pocketed the cord.
Frustration built in her. She wouldn’t have to say anything that would put her sisters at risk, wouldn’t have to say anything that would put her and Hank in further danger. All she wanted to do was assure them she was okay.
On impulse she got up off the bed and approached the bathroom door. It wasn’t closed all the way and steam swirled out like slender ghostly fingers. If she could just get to that cord. In a matter of seconds she could hook it back into the phone and make the call. All she needed was that damned cord.
Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed the door open an inch, grateful there was no telltale squeak. Gaining courage, she shoved it open another couple of inches and spied Hank’s jeans in a pile on the floor.
Just beneath the splatter of the water against the tub, she could hear him humming. The scent of soap hung heavy in the air and the steam continued to roll out from above the plastic shower curtain.
Sinking to her hands and knees, Colette kept her gaze firmly fixed on his jeans as she crawled forward. She could see the end of the phone cord peeking out from the pocket. She couldn’t see anything throughthe opaque curtain, so assumed he couldn’t see outside the shower.
She crawled forward another couple of inches, her heart thundering as her fingers closed around the cord. Now if she could just get out of here and use the phone before he finished his shower.
Scooting back out of the bathroom, she prayed he couldn’t hear the sound of her frantic heartbeat over the sound of the running water. Once outside of the bathroom, she pulled the door closed, then jumped up and raced toward the phone.
It took her a moment to plug the cord into the wall socket, then into the back of the phone. Her fingers shook as she punched in the number at the ranch.
She cried out as the phone was yanked out of her hand from behind. She whirled around to see Hank, clad only in a towel draped around his hips, his body still wet and his eyes flashing danger.
“Dammit, Colette, I thought I could trust you,” he yelled. With one swift tug, he snapped the cord from the wall socket and tossed the phone across his bed.
“I just wanted to call my sisters, tell them I’m all right.” Hot tears burned at her eyes.
“And I told you, it’s not safe to call them.”
Colette sank to her knees on the floor, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. The day’s events were too much, the shooting, the chase, the total isolation from those she loved and trusted.
