Barbara Dunlop - High Stakes

“I’m an extremely reasonable person.”

“You’re trying to push a two thousand pound refrigeration unit in your stocking feet.”

She clamped her jaw on a small smile and stopped pushing. “That’s not unreasonable.”

He held up a carving knife, flexing the blade. “You weigh what, a hundred? It defies at least one law of physics.”

She eyed the sharp edge. “Have I annoyed you that badly?”

He frowned and tossed the knife back into the drawer. “None of these will work on countersunk screws. We may be stuck.”

“How stuck?”

“Real stuck.”

“As in you and me? All night long?”

He shot her a look that sizzled right down to her toes. “Candy—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t leave yourself wide-open like that.”

Raw energy pulsed between them for a long second. Candice felt her skin prickle and her heart rate speed up. She was suddenly short of breath.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“We have got to get out of here.”

NOW THAT WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. Never mind the fact that Derek had piles of work waiting on his desk, or the fact that Ray Yamamoto was about to have a cell phone conversation with Tyler, Derek and Candice were inches short of combusting at the best of times. Leave them alone for thirty-six hours and anything could happen.

She was drop-dead gorgeous in that tight purple dress. Despite himself, it wasn’t the first time he’d felt an attraction to her. She was smart. And she was feisty. And she made him stop and think, and feel, and want….

Spending the night alone together was foolish at best, suicidal at worst.

“I’ll go look for some tools,” he said, determined to exhaust every possibility before giving in.

“Tools?” She stepped back from the crate, her stocking-covered feet slipping against the tiled kitchen floor.

“Maybe we can take the door off the hinges,” he elaborated.

Her green eyes brightened in surprise. “That’s a good idea.”

“A compliment, Candy?”

She frowned again at the nickname, but didn’t correct him this time. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Derek chuckled as he headed back into the dining room. Candy was definitely a misnomer, given her tart personality. But he got a kick out of the way the name made her bristle.

He glanced around the dining room. Plywood, two-by-fours and sheets of foam insulation were stacked against the walls. The floor was littered with sawdust and shavings. And the dining tables were clustered in one corner, protected by a canvas tarpaulin.

The carpenters were half done, the plumbers had moved in last week, and the electricians had cut holes in everything that didn’t move.

Although it looked like the tools had been cleaned up for the weekend, Derek was hoping somebody had left something behind. He headed toward the new bank of windows overlooking the hotel boardwalk and the marina on Lake Washington. He’d definitely give Jenna and Candice points for discovering the big arched window openings. The view alone was going to increase the Lighthouse’s customer base.

He peeked under a couple of tarps and moved some plywood, hoping for an air ratchet or a stray Phillips head screwdriver. He found nothing. The tradesmen were obviously neat and well organized.

“Any luck?” asked Candice from the kitchen doorway. She’d left her shoes behind.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, the way her sleek little calves had curved down toward the skinny straps and spiky heels, or her sexy stocking-clad feet. The strapless dress revealed her smooth shoulders, and it was tight enough to prove that, despite the hard edge to her arguments, she had a body that was soft in all the right places.

Her blond hair was done up in swirls and curls, but the long evening was beginning to show on it. Wisps had worked their way free to tickle her temples and the base of her neck. She oozed tousled sensuality, and he had to drag his attention away.

“Nothing so far,” he said.

She began hunting from the other end of the room. “Why would Tyler do something this drastic?”

“He’s protecting Jenna.” Derek was trying to be charitable toward his brother, but he had to admit it was tough to keep from plotting his demise.

“He doesn’t need to protect Jenna from me. I’m her partner, her friend. I was her maid of honor for goodness’ sake.”

He lifted the last tarp, checking a makeshift construction table underneath. Sawdust, a measuring tape, a plumb line and a carpenter’s pencil. Nothing of any value to their current plight. “It’s your relationship with me that’s the problem.”

Candice stepped carefully around a couple of saw-horses. “I don’t have a relationship with you.”

“Jenna’s tired of listening to us bicker on the job site.” He frowned at Candice’s feet. There could be metal shavings and stray nails on the floor. Not to mention the danger of splinters. “You should put your shoes back on.”

“I don’t bicker. And I can’t put my shoes on.”

“Why not? The shoes part.” He could debate the bicker part all night long if necessary.

“My feet are swollen. The shoes don’t fit anymore.”

“Well then sit down.” He strode over to the corner of the dining room and pulled one of the padded restaurant chairs from under the tarp. Their red velvet upholstery was faded, and the carved walnut arms would have to be refinished, but they were still very comfortable.

Choosing a relatively clear corner near the windows, he set it down. “Last thing I need is for you to get hurt.”

“Always the gentleman.”

He retrieved a second chair, then placed one of the tables between the two. “Damn straight.”

She picked her way across the room and sat down.

He was both surprised and grateful that she finally did something he asked. He suspected there was a first-aid kit in the kitchen somewhere, but he didn’t want to have to look for it because Candy had a nail in her foot.

“Find anything we can use?” she asked.

“Nobody left a screwdriver behind,” he replied.

“And, you can’t break down the door?”

“You really want me to?”

She sighed, curling her feet beneath her, tucking the dress over her knees. “No. That would be irresponsible. It’s a great door.”

Derek sat down in the other chair. “My shoulder would probably break before the door anyway. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

“True.” She propped her elbows on the table. “You really think we’re that bad?”

“Bad how?”

“Enough of a problem to warrant this.” She gestured around the room.

“Tyler’s overreacting.”

“Maybe it is a joke. Maybe he’ll be back soon.”

Derek doubted that. “Maybe.”

Candice brightened. “Good. So, what do we do while we wait?”

“You’re asking me? I thought I was a waste of air.”

A grin sneaked out on her face. “Did I really say that?”

“More than once.”

“Goes to show you how desperate I am.”

“You hungry?” He didn’t know about Candy, but he hadn’t had a chance to eat at the reception. Since they’d exhausted all of the obvious escape plans, and sitting here twiddling their thumbs wasn’t going to do any good, they might as well make the best of their captivity.

“What do you mean hungry?” she asked. “Did Tyler leave a picnic I don’t know about?”

“We’re in a restaurant.”

She glanced toward the kitchen, forehead furrowing. “You mean we can…”

“Far as I know, it’s still in working order.” Derek rose from his chair. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Tyler would have a change of heart in a couple of hours. In the meantime, there was no need for them to starve.