tougher-minded—than he’d expected. And it wasn’t like Quinn was going out of his way to get in touch.
He needed an ally. Inaction wasn’t in his nature, either, and if he didn’t figure out something to do soon, something that might actually make the situation better rather than worse, he was going to go crazy.
“Okay,” he said, releasing the word in a resigned sigh. “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. But I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”
* * *
H E WAS RIGHT . She didn’t like it. Not one bit. “I’m not going to hole up here in this cabin while you sneak back into the hotel.”
“You asked to hear my plan. That’s it.” His chin jutting stubbornly toward her, he folded his arms across his chest, stretching his shirt across his broad shoulders and powerful chest, a visual reminder that, for all her bluster, she would be no match against this man in a fair fight.
Of course, she’d never had any compunction about fighting dirty if necessary.
“Are you going to lock me in here against my will? Because that would add a lovely little felony to your record.”
He sighed again, a long, gusty one that showed her just what he thought of her refusal to play by his rules. “You’re free to go. And be grabbed by people who want you dead before you ever get close to the edge of these woods.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. Now that she had shoes, appropriate clothing and access to supplies, she might be better at sneaking out of these woods than he thought. Sure, this wasn’t Boneyard Ridge, but her little hometown wasn’t that much farther up the Appalachian chain, only a few miles down the highway that connected several small mountain towns in the Smokies.
Close enough to give her a fighting chance at finding her way around. She knew what the terrain was like. She knew how to find her direction using the position of the sun at this time of year in this part of Tennessee.
“If I leave here without you, you really are going to make a run for it, aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer, but she could tell he saw through her silence. That furrow came back to his brow, and his trapezius muscle looked as hard as a rock.
He turned away abruptly. “Would you stop looking at my shoulders?”
She couldn’t stop a soft huff of laughter. “Why are you fighting this so hard? You one of those guys who thinks a woman can’t do anything without a man showing her the way?”
He turned so swiftly he almost lost his balance, and she saw a grimace of pain flit across his features as the leg he favored twisted. Putting his weight on the other leg, he swung the injured one straight and resettled his weight on both limbs. “You don’t know me. Don’t presume to know what I think about anything.”
“I can only go by your behavior.”
“And I can only go by yours.”
Her smile faded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He reached out and caught her hand, his gaze narrowing a little as he took in the clipped fingernails. “What would you do if you weren’t here? You’d go get a manicure.” He dropped her hand, but the tingle of his touch seemed to linger. “You had to run barefoot through the woods because you wear four-inch heels to work instead of comfortable shoes.”
“Heels can be comfortable,” she protested, annoyed that he was practically echoing the internal argument she had with herself nearly every day. She could well imagine exactly what kind of woman he thought she was because it was the facade she’d fought hard to present to the world, the armor she wore against discovery.
“Then why do you hide comfortable shoes in your desk?”
“You went through my desk?” Her mind swept quickly through her desk drawers, wondering what else he might have discovered. She tended to keep her personal life out of the office, but there was her chocolate stash—
“It was part of my job,” he said, surprising her by looking a little embarrassed.
“Then I’m sure you
He needed an ally. Inaction wasn’t in his nature, either, and if he didn’t figure out something to do soon, something that might actually make the situation better rather than worse, he was going to go crazy.
“Okay,” he said, releasing the word in a resigned sigh. “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. But I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”
* * *
H E WAS RIGHT . She didn’t like it. Not one bit. “I’m not going to hole up here in this cabin while you sneak back into the hotel.”
“You asked to hear my plan. That’s it.” His chin jutting stubbornly toward her, he folded his arms across his chest, stretching his shirt across his broad shoulders and powerful chest, a visual reminder that, for all her bluster, she would be no match against this man in a fair fight.
Of course, she’d never had any compunction about fighting dirty if necessary.
“Are you going to lock me in here against my will? Because that would add a lovely little felony to your record.”
He sighed again, a long, gusty one that showed her just what he thought of her refusal to play by his rules. “You’re free to go. And be grabbed by people who want you dead before you ever get close to the edge of these woods.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. Now that she had shoes, appropriate clothing and access to supplies, she might be better at sneaking out of these woods than he thought. Sure, this wasn’t Boneyard Ridge, but her little hometown wasn’t that much farther up the Appalachian chain, only a few miles down the highway that connected several small mountain towns in the Smokies.
Close enough to give her a fighting chance at finding her way around. She knew what the terrain was like. She knew how to find her direction using the position of the sun at this time of year in this part of Tennessee.
“If I leave here without you, you really are going to make a run for it, aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer, but she could tell he saw through her silence. That furrow came back to his brow, and his trapezius muscle looked as hard as a rock.
He turned away abruptly. “Would you stop looking at my shoulders?”
She couldn’t stop a soft huff of laughter. “Why are you fighting this so hard? You one of those guys who thinks a woman can’t do anything without a man showing her the way?”
He turned so swiftly he almost lost his balance, and she saw a grimace of pain flit across his features as the leg he favored twisted. Putting his weight on the other leg, he swung the injured one straight and resettled his weight on both limbs. “You don’t know me. Don’t presume to know what I think about anything.”
“I can only go by your behavior.”
“And I can only go by yours.”
Her smile faded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He reached out and caught her hand, his gaze narrowing a little as he took in the clipped fingernails. “What would you do if you weren’t here? You’d go get a manicure.” He dropped her hand, but the tingle of his touch seemed to linger. “You had to run barefoot through the woods because you wear four-inch heels to work instead of comfortable shoes.”
“Heels can be comfortable,” she protested, annoyed that he was practically echoing the internal argument she had with herself nearly every day. She could well imagine exactly what kind of woman he thought she was because it was the facade she’d fought hard to present to the world, the armor she wore against discovery.
“Then why do you hide comfortable shoes in your desk?”
“You went through my desk?” Her mind swept quickly through her desk drawers, wondering what else he might have discovered. She tended to keep her personal life out of the office, but there was her chocolate stash—
“It was part of my job,” he said, surprising her by looking a little embarrassed.
“Then I’m sure you
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