Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (202 page)

This made no sense, this connection she’d felt from the moment he’d faced her in his offices, this charged undercurrent between them that swayed and dipped and suddenly rushed over her with an intensity that frightened her. Simply stated, Tyler Leighton made her uncomfortable.

He was too complex, too powerful.

And something inside him was too dark.

She should have backed off the moment she sensed the danger, and yet, instead, she came closer like moth to flame. Despite his distrust of everything she stood for, she was drawn to him. As he was to her, she realized.

What was wrong with her? Keelin wondered. Why had she suddenly lost her good sense? She’d spent her adulthood on guard. Setting boundaries. Maintaining distances. Keeping herself safe.

She could continue to do so if she tried, Keelin assured herself. If only she weren’t so exhausted. Lack of rest had lowered her defenses, perhaps even made her imagine untruths. She didn’t have to succumb.

Not to Tyler Leighton.

All she needed to regain her normal control was a good, deep sleep…

AFTER TOSSING AND TURNING IN THE LUMPY BED for hours, she gave up on falling asleep. She was creeped out anyway after seeing the rat on the back porch when she’d set the garbage out. Faint streetlight shone in through the single window. The narrow, sparsely furnished room looked better in the near dark, she decided. Nothing like her room at home, of course, but in the circumstances, it would do.

Better than the streets.

Still, she felt spooked again. Maybe she could fall asleep on the couch watching television. She rose from the bed and crossed the room, stopping before the door when she heard raised voices on the other side.

“How long are we going to wait?”

“Until I say.”

Wait for what?

She shifted from one bare foot to the other, fingered one of the charms on her bracelet. A sudden breeze from the open window crawled up her bare legs, all the way up to the hem of her T-shirt. Shivering, she pressed her ear to the door.

“You’re forgetting who’s in charge here.”

“In charge?”

“All right. Maybe that’s a little strong. But it was my idea.”

“True enough. You want a medal?”

“No, I just want to write the damn ransom note and get it over with.”

Ransom note?

She knew what that was. She’d watched enough television, seen enough movies. But what were they talking about? They hadn’t kidnapped her or anything. She’d agreed to come with them. They’d said they would help her.

“We’re not going to hurry this. I want to make him sweat first. Let him know what it’s like to have someone else on top for once.”

“You wanna be on top?” The other voice changed, became low and husky. “C’mere. I’ll let you be on top.”

Feminine laughter shot a chill up her spine and she backed away from the door.

She’d been fooled. They weren’t doing this for her like they said. They wanted money. They were using her. They’d lied!

Did all adults lie?

Without thinking it out, she slid into her jeans, grabbed her hi-tops and backpack. Ignoring the grunts and whispers from the other room, she tiptoed to the door, boldly shot a hand out, slipped her fingers around the knob and turned.

Nothing happened.

Oh, God…locked in.

Her pulse thrummed and her heart smashed against her ribs. She flitted to the open window and peered out desperately, even knowing what she would see: a three story drop to the ground. She’d kill herself if she tried that.

Trapped! A prisoner!

She backed into a corner. Sank to the floor. Hugged her backpack and her hi-tops to her chest.

Never in her wildest imaginings had she considered this. What now? What if her father was so angry he wouldn’t pay to get her back? What would they do to her then?

She couldn’t panic. She had to keep her head. Hard to do when all she wanted was to cry. That and have her father holding her in his arms, telling her everything would be all right. He would forgive her if she apologized, wouldn’t he? If she told him she would never run away again?

Please, Dad, please…

Brushing her fingers nervously across the charms, she knew she had to get to him. But how? They wouldn’t let her go back, not if they wanted money for her.

The tears flowed down her cheeks. A lump stuck in her throat. She’d never been so afraid. Not even when the guy who’d given her a lift as far as Evanston had tried to maul her. Not even when she’d spent the rest of the night hiding beneath some bushes on the Northwestern campus.

Suddenly it occurred to her that they didn’t know she knew.

That was definitely to her advantage, she decided.

She slashed at her tears, swallowed the lump.

She would have to pretend. Not let them suspect a thing. She’d gotten the lead in her class play last year, and everyone had agreed she had talent. Even Dad had said she was quite a little actress. She could do it. Pretend nothing was wrong until she figured out an escape.

She would wait for her opportunity, and then she would be out of this dump so fast they wouldn’t know what happened.

Only…what then?

HER CRY JOLTED TYLER UP OFF THE SOFA in a single lunge. He got to the door even as she unlocked it and threw it open. He’d left only a single low light burning, and that across the unfamiliar room, but he could see well enough to know her face was pale, her eyes glazed.

Spooked, he asked, “What?”

“She’s in real trouble,” Keelin choked out, fisting his shirtfront. “She heard them…tried to get away. But the door was locked. And the window…”

“Heard who?”

“I don’t know. A man and a woman. I didn’t see.” Her gaze turned inward. “Scared. So scared. Walked right into it…”

Realizing Keelin was speaking as if
she
were the one in trouble rather than his daughter, he gave her a sharp shake to snap her back. “Scared of what?” he demanded, his voice gruff. “What did you hear them say?”

She gasped and her eyes cleared. Her long, dark lashes fluttered over her pale cheeks. She was breathing hard, as if she’d been running. Her gaze met his, and he realized she was terrified. Her flesh trembled under his hands.

“What were they talking about?” he asked again, more gently this time.

“Something about a ransom note.”

Tyler’s heart skipped a beat. A parent’s worst nightmare. His child had been kidnapped.

Chapter Four

KEELIN SWAM UP OUT OF HER DREAMLIKE STATE to find herself pressed against Tyler’s chest. He was holding her fast and she was clinging to him as if this were the most natural act in the world. She vaguely reasoned that she should be uncomfortable, should push herself away. Regain some distance and a perspective on the situation. This man didn’t even trust her, for heaven’s sake.

But the last thing she desired was to put any distance between them, Keelin realized.

His body heat was comforting…distracting…Her pulse surged and unexpected emotions warred through her. Forgetting his distrust, she concentrated on him. On the man in pain. She wished she could will the misery from him, absorb it into herself – unreasonably, perhaps, given his antipathy toward her – or at the very least render the anguish he was suffering impotent.

She couldn’t help herself. Following her natural instincts, she slid her arms up around his neck and comforted him as best she could. He shuddered against her.

“It’ll be all right,” she whispered, only hoping she was uttering the truth.

“Keelin, I have to get her back.”

“I know. I know.”

“Whatever I have to do.” His mouth pressed into her hair. “Anything.” Whispered against her temple. “I’ll do anything to get my daughter back.” Trailed across her cheek. “Give them anything they want!”

Eyes stinging, heart churning with things she didn’t understand, Keelin turned her face up to Tyler’s, felt his breath brush her skin. “I believe you.”

Threading her fingers through the thickness of his dark hair, she was startled by her own boldness. For a moment, their gazes caught and she responded to the torment she read in his eyes. Torment that came at least partly from guilt, she thought, even as her body quickened to his.

How could this be? How could her blood rush with such longing now? At such a desperate time when personal want should be as nothing?

“I knew Cheryl didn’t really mean to run away from me,” he whispered, sounding as if he were trying to deny the guilt she sensed in him. Smoothing her hair so that she pressed a cheek into his hand. “Not seriously. She would have come home by now if she weren’t being held prisoner.”

Keelin shook her head. “Cheryl
did
run, Tyler. And she trusted whoever is now holding her prisoner to protect her.
From you
. Don’t waste time fooling yourself, please.” Though his expression darkened and he put her from him, gripping her shoulders hard, she didn’t stop. “You need to concentrate on whoever might have pretended they wanted to help Cheryl. Maybe if you can figure out who has a motive–”

“A motive? The bastards want money, plain and simple.” His gaze changed, as if he remembered suspecting that’s what
she
wanted of him. He suddenly let her go altogether and took a step back. “The greedy people in this world are willing to do anything to get money.”

Realizing he included her in the sweeping condemnation, Keelin took a deep breath and tried to will away the yearning to feel his arms around her again. To harden herself against Tyler so that he couldn’t hurt her more. She couldn’t do it. God help her, she felt something for the man.

And him a near-stranger.

Trying to derail her emotions, she choked out, “Greed is only a part of it. There’s more.” She concentrated, tried to remember exactly what she’d heard. “One of them said something about wanting you to sweat, to know what it’s like for someone else to be on top.”

He pulled a face. “You’re saying someone is using my daughter – a child – to punish me?”

Keelin swallowed hard. “I believe so.”

“Dear God, what have I done that’s so terrible that He would let my child suffer for it?”

Making an uneasy Keelin wonder the same thing.

HALFWAY THROUGH THE MORNING, Brock Olander was pacing Tyler’s office. This waiting put his nerves on edge and twisted his gut into a fancy knot. Pam had told him the moment Ty called in. Supposedly he was on his way and would arrive any minute. Brock checked his Rolex. Eighteen minutes ago now. It was out of character, Ty’s being so late.

But the past few days had been a crap shoot in general, with nothing going like it was supposed to.

Brock stared out the window at Lincoln Park. So many people with no worries. Going about their pleasure like it was any other day. Well, it wasn’t any day. In Brock’s mind, today was D-Day.

Ty had better agree to his proposal.

“Any mail?” came the deep voice from the outer office.

Brock whipped around and stared at the half-open door. He’d thought he was psyched, but Ty had somehow sneaked up on him, made him feel as if he was at the disadvantage. Sweat gathered on his forehead, along his neck, under his suit. He wasn’t good at confrontation, especially not with someone as tough as his business partner. Brock knew that very quality had spelled their success…but had also caused his own discontent.

“I think the mailman was here a few minutes ago,” Alma was saying. “Sara is probably still sorting. Should be up any time now.”

“Let me know as soon as you get it, then.” Ty’s voice drew closer.

“Waiting for something in particular, Mr. Leighton?” the motherly receptionist Ty had hired after her husband left her called after him.

“Just let me know.”

In command, as usual, Ty took ownership of the office the moment he walked in the door. He didn’t look like a man who was suffering, Brock mused from his position at the window. Not at all like a father who feared he might have lost his only child for good.

Then Ty noticed him and frowned. “Brock. What are you doing in here?” He set his briefcase on his desk.

“Waiting to continue the discussion that got interrupted yesterday.”

“I asked you to give me time.”

“Time isn’t going to fix things.” Though guilt sneaked along his nerves, Brock wasn’t going to back down now.

Ty sat, stared at him pensively. “I thought we were friends.”

“We were. Hell, we are. I feel for you. You know I do. But this is business.”

Brock wanted more than a partnership in which he faded into the woodwork. An opportunity had come up, one too good to let slip through his fingers or he wouldn’t be so fixed on leaving now. If Ty got a whiff of his plans…

“Right at this moment, I’m having trouble believing you consider us friends.”

“Let’s say both the friendship and the partnership are strained. Maybe the first can be recovered if the second is dissolved amicably.”

“A friend would put this on the back burner until we get Cheryl home.”

“Which could be never.”

A thick silence followed, and Brock would swear that Ty paled. He went stiff as a corpse. Cold. His light blue eyes reminded Brock of shards of ice. He shifted uncomfortably under their glare. He’d seen that particular look before, but never aimed at him. He didn’t relish being the recipient of the other man’s ill-will.

“Don’t ever intimate such a thing again,” Ty warned him in a low, menacing voice. “I’ll bring my daughter home, and in one piece. You can bet your half of the business on that.”

“I’m not betting my half of the business on anything. I just want to pack it up and leave.” Despite his growing discomfort, Brock pushed forward. “I want half of everything. Split right down the middle. Clients, contacts, assets. Everything.”

“I promise you, we’ll talk about it. When I’m ready.”

When
he
was ready. Wasn’t that just like Ty. Decisions were always his call, Brock fumed, frustration getting the best of him. Without another word, he stormed out of the office.

Coming up the stairs, mail in hand, Pam gave him an intense, inquiring look. Not wanting her to guess what had gone on in there – how, once more, Ty had taken the upper hand – he turned his face away and escaped into his own office.