Jo Leigh - One-Click Buy - September Harlequin Blaze

Aside from her looks, she had maids, cooks, him. She never had to get her hands dirty. Someone was always there to clean up her messes.

She looked better here, though. He’d never even known her hair was wavy. Or that she really liked peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.

As he watched her sleep, he let himself think about after. Once they were back in New York, on her turf. Would she be embarrassed by the fact that she’d slept with her bodyguard? Would she pretend nothing had ever happened? Would he?

It wasn’t as if they would ever be anything. Not a couple, that’s for sure. William would have heart failure if such a thing were even suggested. Too bad. He’d liked her from the start, and being with her in this cramped cabin for all this time had just proved he’d been right in his earliest assessments.

Tate was an unusual woman, and not just because of her social standing. One thing he’d seen in his travels was that the children of the truly rich didn’t understand the rest of the world. They made noises about helping out the disenfranchised or the handicapped, whatever, but it was all posing. They lived in rarefied air, and those who weren’t like them were as foreign as Martians.

Tate was the exception to the rule. She’d never made him feel as if he were the help. Not intentionally, anyway. Hell, she hadn’t even wanted to admit how badly he’d bungled things with her, even though his mistakes might cost her her life.

So what was a man supposed to do with a woman like that? Save her, that’s what. Make damn sure she had the opportunity to find out what life would be like without her fear of being kidnapped overshadowing everything.

He had to find those weapons. Now.

THE FBI AGENT’S NAME was Webber, Nick Webber, and he called Sara at four in the afternoon on the ninth day. “We might have something.”

“Go on.”

“We think it might be her purse. There’s no ID, but there’s a GPS tracker sewn into the lining. The security people said that’s where Caulfield hid his trackers.”

“I’ll know if it’s hers,” Sara said. “But let’s meet somewhere. I don’t want Mr. Baxter to know.”

“Fine.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In Jersey, by the GW Bridge.”

“That could mean anything. They could have her anywhere.”

“It’ll help to know if this is her bag.”

“Give me twenty minutes and meet me at Sarabeth’s. You know where that is?”

“Yes.”

“Twenty minutes.” Sara hung up the phone, her heart so heavy she could barely breathe. Was this all they were to have of Tate? A purse washed up from the East River? Was Tate in that murky water right now with the punctured tires and the polluted fish?

William was withering away before her eyes. He wouldn’t eat, and the only sleep he got was drug induced. She’d taken her fair share of tranquilizers, too.

How long was she supposed to hang on? She wanted to believe so badly. So when was the cutoff? Ten days? Twenty? Or were they always supposed to feel that jolt when the phone rang? A year, two years, what did it matter? A purse was not proof. It was simply a purse.

THE DOOR HAD BEEN unlocked for a good thirty seconds, but Michael didn’t turn the knob. He pressed his ear against the door, trying to decide whether the noise he heard was just the television-which was on all the time, as far as he could tell-or actual conversation.

At one-twenty in the morning, he couldn’t imagine who’d be chatting. Those first few days they’d made a point to keep themselves awake, guns at the ready, especially after his first attempt at escape. But the last couple of nights Jazz and Charlie had both been sound asleep and not even the louder-than-loud commercials from the satellite system had made them budge.

He couldn’t tell whether tonight would be an exception, so he opened the door. Not wide-Jesus, no-but just enough so he could let his eye adjust to the light as he peered through the gap.

He didn’t see Jazz, but there was Charlie, leaning back in the big man’s favorite leather chair, mouth agape, snoring like a freight train. Even now, after everything, Michael’s first instinct was to get Charlie out of that chair. If Ed saw him there…

It was just so goddamn typical. Charlie would never change. If Michael could figure out a way to get him out of this mess, it wouldn’t matter because there would be the next mess and the one after that. It made him sad-but not sad enough to forgive. That wasn’t going to happen.

Another few seconds of absolute stillness, then he opened the door another inch. Still no Jazz. Surely they wouldn’t leave Charlie on guard duty by himself? No one was that stupid.

Someone else had to be there. Or in the head or maybe getting something to eat in the galley. Whatever, it meant that tonight Michael wasn’t going to make it below. He wasn’t going to get a weapon, at least not yet.

He closed the door, locking it behind him, then debated the wisdom of getting into bed. Tate was hard to resist, but he wanted to check back in an hour to see if he could make it out. An hour of either sleep or something better wouldn’t be prudent. He’d get too sleepy. Too satisfied.

“Are you just going to stand there all night?”

Tate’s whisper scared the crap out of him, making him glad for the darkness. “What are you doing up?”

“Watching you be superspy. Like last night. And the night before.”

He grinned as he headed to the bunk. “It’s not nice to fool superspies.”

“Hey, you’re not the only one who can do that stealthy stuff. What’s the matter? Someone’s up?”

“I only saw Charlie. But they’d never leave him on his own. I’ll check again in a while.”

“Hmm,” she said, scooting over as he sat on the edge of the bed. “How long is a while?”

He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “It would be wonderful to climb in with you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. We’re getting too close to Grand Cayman, and either I get a decent layout of this boat or-”

“Or what?”

“Nothing. I’ll get it. But I need to stay alert.”

“I can do that, too.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“Because I lead such an active life? The only thing we do here that burns up calories is sex, and if you don’t want to do that-”

“Who said I don’t want to?”

She sighed. “I know. So what happens once we get there?”

“Ed’s going to take you off the boat. You’ll have to go with him to the bank.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be taking care of business here. You don’t have to worry about that.”

She sat up, then leaned across him to turn on the light. She had on a T-shirt, which she wore most nights, and he wondered whether if they hadn’t been afraid of Jazz barging in, she would have slept naked.

The thought of her long body next to his…Hell, they’d never get any rest.

Squinting against the light, she still managed to give him her “you’re-in-trouble-now-mister” look. “I’ll ask again. What about you?”

“There are things I can do once we’re docked, once they can’t use you as a shield.”

“Like killing people.”

“If necessary.”

“Including Charlie.”

“If necessary.”

“They have weapons.”

“I do, too.”

“Where?”

He shrugged, wanting to reassure her as well as instill her with confidence. He wasn’t sure he could do both. “I’ve been in a lot of situations where it looked as if I didn’t stand a chance.”

“But-”

He put his arm around her shoulder and situated them both more comfortably on the bed. “Let’s talk about you for a while, okay? There are some things I want you to practice here, while we’re alone, before you hit the bank.”