Beauty Dates the Beast(19)

The irony was not lost on me.

On the far side of the house, a door slammed. All my senses went on alert again, and I raced across the house to confront my kidnapper.

I heard the sound of easy whistling as I turned the corner and saw Beau’s broad back in the kitchen. A large box was on the island counter, and as he whistled, he pulled food supplies out of it.

“You’re awake,” he said, turning to look at me. “How are you feeling?”

“Where’s my sister?”

“Sara’s fine.” A faint frown crossed his face as he studied my wild expression. “Calm down. You’re safe, and so is she. You’re under my protection.”

“Your protection?” I sputtered. “You think you’re protecting me by slipping me a mickey and carrying me off into the wilderness Lodge of Love?”

There was a dark look on his face, and his eyebrows drew down over his eyes. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “I should have just tucked you into your bed and let whatever it was come back and kill you and your sister both.”

“I had a plan,” I muttered. I couldn’t tell him that I’d been planning on disappearing from town before sunrise. “So why here? Why not a hotel? And why isn’t my sister here?”

“This is my home when I don’t have business in town. I like it here. It’s private.” His explanation was simple, but I sensed an underlying pride.

“And where are we, Mr. Privacy?”

He shook his head and returned to pulling things out of the box. A loaf of bread. A jar of peanut butter. A can of ham. “I can’t tell you that.”

I moved around the island to get in his line of vision again. “Why can’t you tell me that?”

He shrugged. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with.” His motions as he unpacked the groceries were calm, fluid. Everything he did, he did with effortless grace, and I calmed a bit just by watching him. “I don’t know how this thing knew which house was yours, or which taxi you were getting into the other night. Maybe it can read minds. If it can, I don’t want it knowing how to find you. So it’s better that you don’t know.” He picked up a package of Oreos. “Hungry?”

Unfortunately, this was starting to make sense. “No,” I said, and resisted the urge to wring my hands in frustration. “Did you have to drug me?”

He gave me a slow, melting smile. “I didn’t think you’d let me carry you through the woods quietly—not with the scare you’d just had.”

I blinked at that. “Did you carry me?”

He grinned and took a step toward me. I warily circled the other side of the island, keeping the counter between us. Beau chuckled. “I did. Carried you several miles.”

“Several miles—is that how far we are from town?”

He smiled and didn’t answer.

“You suck.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So where is my sister?”

“Safe,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything else.”

Not worry? How could I not worry? They didn’t even know what I was worrying about. “Where is she?”

“With Ramsey,” he said, then repeated, “safe.”

That made me feel a little better. Ramsey was terrifying—if anyone could keep her safe, it was him. My arms, tight across my chest, eased a little. “And Savannah? Any luck finding her?”

Tension flashed briefly across his face. He pulled out a can of coffee and set it aside. “No word on her yet. We’ll find her.”

No Savannah meant that Beau still needed me for his heat. I wasn’t sure if that internal tremor I felt was worry or excitement. “How do I know this isn’t all an elaborate ploy to get me to sleep with you in the next few days?”

Beau leaned over the counter, and I couldn’t help but notice how broad his shoulders were. “Sweet Bathsheba,” he said, his voice low and playful, “no one said that I wasn’t going to try and seduce you.”


As Beau unpacked the small box of food—the rest would be coming tomorrow with Ramsey—I felt nervous and uncomfortable. So when he handed me a bottle of scented shampoo, I grabbed it and headed upstairs. Rooting around in Beau’s closets uncovered a few things—first, he was truly a bachelor. I found no extra linens besides two towels. Second, he clearly lived here—winter clothing hung in the closet along with summertime wear. I took a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and hoped that when Ramsey came with Sara tomorrow they’d bring me some clothing.



The shower was a little slice of heaven. I hadn’t realized how sticky and unclean I felt until I peeled my clothing off and kicked it into the corner. I shampooed my hair twice and lingered in the shower, enjoying the hot water. Once out, I dressed in his borrowed clothing and bundled my dress, undergarments, and hose into a small stack. It reeked of blood and restaurants and a faint hint of Old Spice, and I suddenly wanted to just throw it away.

When my long, wet hair was combed out, I went downstairs looking for Beau.

He was sitting with a book on the couch. The thriller was open on his chest and his eyes were closed, his breathing even. He was asleep.

I felt a surge of grudging tenderness. While I’d been sleeping the drugs off—not at my choice, mind you—he’d been up all night, bringing me out here to the boonies to keep me safe and dragging in his people to keep an eye on my place. I still didn’t forgive him, but I felt grateful that he’d gone to so much effort on my behalf.

Well, only a little grateful. I sat next to him on the couch and poked his arm. “Wake up, Beau. I need to know where Sara is.”

His arm shot out, grabbing hold of my wrist. Before I could utter the squeal building in my chest, he dragged me toward him. The book went flying and I flew across the couch as he pulled me onto his lap, my bottom resting on his thighs.

“You smell good enough to eat,” he said, and leaned in to nibble on my neck.

Delicious tingles shot through my body and I squirmed in his arms, trying to get away. “You’re trying to distract me into kissing you, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

“It is not,” I said. “Tell me about my sister.”

“She’s safe,” he said. “Don’t you trust me?”

I didn’t trust anyone. I stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “All right, fine. I trust you. Now tell me about my sister.”

He chuckled and pulled me against him until my chest smacked against his. His chin nudged against my neck and then he bit my earlobe, and all thought about having a serious conversation flew right out of my head. My breath shivered and my hands touched his neck, his shoulders, trying to find a good spot to land. I could feel that wonderful heat radiating through his clothing.

His teeth tugged at my earlobe, sending my blood rushing through my body and shivers down my spine. My hands curled in his hair. Something low rumbled in his chest—almost like purring, and he brushed my wet hair aside to nip at my neck again. “My tasty little Bathsheba,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”

It was hard to think when he did that to me. His hand wrapped in my wet, heavy hair, exposing more of my neck, and my nipples tightened in response, my pulse growing heavy. My hand threaded through his hair as he nuzzled the tender skin of my neck, the scrape of one day’s growth of his beard stubble on my skin harsh yet exciting. His other hand slid down my side, cupping my bottom through the sweatpants.

He was very, very good at distracting me, I thought as I curled my fingers in his hair. Almost too good. I jerked on his hair, pulling his face away from my neck. “Not so fast there, Casanova. I want an answer.”

He chuckled. “Can’t help myself. You just look so delicious sitting there in my clothing.”

Well, I certainly wasn’t averse to compliments—or to having him nibble on me—so I returned his smile. “You’re trying to distract me with kisses.”

“And here you said you weren’t susceptible,” he said, all teasing.

“Oh, I’m susceptible all right,” I said. “If you kiss me again, I won’t be able to think of anything else for the rest of the day.”

A pleased smile crossed his face. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him that he scrambled my brains with his touch. Sara would shake her head at my awful flirting skills—

“Sara,” I blurted, knotting my fingers in Beau’s short hair again. “Where is my sister?”

“It’s taken care of,” he said in that now annoyingly confident voice. “Ramsey is my second-in-command. He’ll handle it while you’re here.”

“Sara is not an ‘it,’ she is a person and I need her. We have someplace we have to be.” Like a couple hundred miles from here.