Captive Kisses (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) by Jennifer Blake Page A

wasn’t it
better to think that what he was doing sprang from deep conviction instead of
simple larceny?
    What was she doing? Surely she was not attempting to condone
what he had done? What was the matter with her that she could not hold her
anger or resolution where he was concerned? He had only to smile at her, or
look at her with that warm expression of humor in his eyes, and she began to
make excuses for him. This must stop. No matter the reason, what he was doing
was outside the law, an interference with the basic freedom of not one but two
people, a crime for which the punishment would be life imprisonment. He had
spoken with the utmost casualness of the death of the man he was holding and as
far as she knew, he would be just as casual about her own demise.
    Kelly arose early after a restless night. The effects were
plain to see as she looked in the mirror while she ran a brush through her
hair. She was pale, and beneath her eyes lay the blue shadows of fatigue. It
didn’t matter. She cared not at all what she looked like, and it certainly made
no difference how she appeared to Charles. In fact, it might be all to the good
if she presented herself looking wan and hollow-eyed, though she suspected that
if he noticed at all, he would be more likely to send her back to bed with a
sleeping pill than to be sympathetic.
    A sleeping pill. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? He had
some with him, she thought. He had mentioned it when he was trying to force her
to take his aspirins. If only he could be persuaded to down a few. While he was
comatose, she could search his room, or even him personally, for her car keys
and billfold. By the time he awoke, she could be miles away, telling her
incredible tale to the police. It seemed that was the only way she was going to
escape. He was much too light a sleeper, much too alert to her every movement,
for anything else to be possible. She had only to wait until he left her alone
in the house again, giving her the opportunity to search for the pills. Then
she would have to manufacture an opportunity to slip them into his food or
drink, that was all.
    That was all? The mere thought of carrying out such a plan
tied her stomach in knots. What he would do if he caught her at any stage was
something she dared not contemplate. Still, she could not just do nothing,
letting the minutes, hours, and days go by, accepting whatever he might say or
do while she staked her future on a vague feeling that he was attracted to her.
Such a thing would mean less than nothing, especially if she should prove a
danger to him.
    The rain had stopped in the early-morning hours. The sun was
out, brightening the house with the peculiar golden light of September. Charles
was seated at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him when she entered
the dining area. He saluted her with the cup. “It’s freshly made and still hot,”
he said. “I would have brought it to you, but that didn’t go over too well
yesterday morning.”
    She moved past him into the kitchen where she poured herself
a cup of the steaming brew, then returned to slide into a chair at the round
oak table.
    “You are walking better this morning,” he commented.
    She had forgotten to limp. Her reply was short. “Yes.”
    His gaze flicked over her, returning to her face. “How would
you like to go fishing?”
    “Fishing?” Her head came up and she stared at him.
    “It’s the only way I know of to provide the fish dinner you
were talking about.”
    “This morning?” she asked, enthusiasm slowly lighting the
gray of her eyes.
    “I don’t see why not.”
    Her face fell. “We haven’t anything to use for bait.”
    “I doubt the bream will be biting after the storm last
night, but the striped bass are schooling, and the judge had a good assortment
of rods and reels and artificial baits. Since he said we were free to make use
of them, I intend to take him at his word. We may be lucky enough to catch a
few bass to eat, and if not,