Captive Kisses (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) by Jennifer Blake

seemed
to have lost the thread of what they were saying. Oh, yes, an occupation for
Charles for the evening hours. “I — I suppose before I came the others kept you
company, even stayed here with you?”
    “Not really. I’m not addicted to television, and I prefer my
privacy.”
    “Having me here must be a trial for you.”
    “Yes,” he agreed, the smile creeping back into his eyes, “but
not in the way that you mean.”
    Kelly did not dare to let herself think about that. “If you
have something to read, I don’t mind.”
    “I’m not certain,” he said slowly, “that it wouldn’t be more
interesting exploring a few more of your opinions. For instance, what do you
think of politics?”
    She sent him a swift look, reminded of her earlier curiosity
concerning him and the senator. “Not much. It seems to be a thankless
undertaking for men of principles, or else a dirty game for men who have money,
or want it.”
    “You don’t like money,” he queried softly.
    “Of course I do,” she answered with a quick gesture of her
wine glass, “but there are limits to what I will do for it.”
    “And men with money?”
    “You don’t seriously want an answer to that?” she asked, a
frown between her eyes as she wondered what he was getting at.
    “Why not? Or have you never considered the matter?”
    “You would never believe that, would you? Men with money,”
she went on thoughtfully, then said with a sly look, “Old men or young men?
Well, it doesn’t matter. I don’t like ostentation; flashy diamond rings, satin
dinner jackets, or foot-long cigars. I don’t like noisy sports cars that are
expensive enough to be quieter. I don’t like expensive houses built in the
United States to look like something found in Europe. I don’t like people who
complain about the burden of sudden riches, nor old monied families who
consider the wealth sufficient reason for their existence,”
    When she came to a pause, he inserted skillfully, “Is there
anything you do like?”
    “Quiet elegance, old houses carefully restored, vintage
automobiles, handsome old silver, hand-made lace —”
    “I was speaking of the combination of money and men,” he
reminded her.
    “That’s harder,” she said, tipping her head to one side, “since
I haven’t run across the two together very often. I suppose I like the
experience that a certain amount of money gives a man; the knowledge of how to
order in a restaurant, and how much to tip. I like the assurance and the
dynamic sense of power you feel around the movers and shakers of the world.”
    “Fascinating,” he commented.
    She sipped at the golden liquid that filled the glass in her
hand. “You needn’t jeer. You asked what I thought, and I told you, but it doesn’t
mean anything. What a man is like has little to do with money.”
    “Most people have a hard time separating the two.”
    “By that I suppose you mean most women?”
    “Unfortunately, yes, and before you pounce on that and
accuse me of being a chauvinist, I think I will find that book!”
    It had been a peculiar conversation. Lying in her bed some
time later, listening to the softly falling rain, Kelly went over it in her
mind. What had been his object in drawing out her opinions on the subject of
politics, men, and money? What could they have to do with him, or with the
situation they were in?
    Could it be that there was a political motivation behind his
kidnapping of the senator? Was he a radical of some sort, an activist fighting
for the common man with nothing but contempt for politicians and wealthy men?
If that were the case, then what did he think of the views she had expressed?
Had she shown herself to be too much the moderate capitalist? Would he, as time
went by, try to persuade her to his views?
    She lay frowning up into the darkness above her, trying to
sort out her own feelings. She held no brief for political terrorists, men who
committed horrible deeds in the name of the common good; and yet,