“I guess you don’t.”
I harrumph, my mind turning back to Tod. He probably left with the first pair of open arms. Or legs, more likely. I don’t usually begrudge him, but then he doesn’t usually sell me to the highest bidder without a second thought.
“Maybe I should’ve let you use his head for a cocktail bowl,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“I said it would be nice if I knew where we were going.”
“To get your passport.” He glances my way. “And an overnight bag.”
“What for?”
“You’ll see.”
“Lavender.”
The sun warms my bum deliciously as my handsome husband calls my name. Eyes still closed, I stretch, recognizing his scrumptous cologne, my tummy flipping as I anticipate the dark sheen of his hair and those smoky gray eyes. The white of his teeth as he sends me a knowing smile.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. It’s time to wake up.”
A warm hand folds around my shoulder, golden sand ticking my legs as I nuzzle it and—
“We’re here, princess.”
I jerk awake with an inelegant snort to find my field of vision filled by, well, a vision. Black hair and a knowing smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t the sun roasting my bum but the car’s seat warmer. And the man whose smoky eyes dazzle me don’t belong to my husband.
At least, not yet.
Who the hell goes to sleep in the car of their pseudo kidnapper?
“I thought we agreed on fiancée.”
“Urgh!” I roll my eyes, mostly annoyed with myself for letting that out. “Potato, potahto,” I mutter. The man who was carrying a knife, for fluff’s sake!
“So… two potatoes?”
“Whatever,” I retort, attempting to deliver the word without breathing because my mouth tastes like the bottom of a budgie cage, which is a sure sign my breath smells of death.
“Why are you in my personal space?” I demand, pushing ineffectually at his chest.
“You have a little?” As he moves back, Raif tentatively touches the corner of his mouth.
With a scowl, I wipe the back of my hand across my lips. Great. Not only do I snort, have bad breath, and a bad temper but I also drool.
What a catch, right?
“We’re here. At your place.”
“Okay.” I reach for the handle. Of course, it’s not in the usual place.Stupid fancy car.
“Let me.”
“I can do it,” I protest, but Raif leans across me anyway, bringing with him the scent of warm skin and expensive cologne.Better than death and funky budgie cages.The door moves open, and I rock forward in the chair. This is not the easiest car to extract yourself from, though my dress—and the potential for nipple slippage—doesn’t help.
“Wait.”
I hear his door open.
