Chapter
One
Lincoln
gave a soft,
tired moan as consciousness slowly leaked its way back into her. “I hate
birthdays,” she mumbled groggily. Rolling to her side, she stretched out on her
tiny, twin sized bed.
Instead of her hand falling off the side like usual, it hit
an expanse of soft sheets. Her eyes flew open in alarm and she bolted upright
in bed. Before her was an unfamiliar room in which she sat in an unfamiliar
bed.
She gave a squeak of horror and clutched red satin sheets
that didn’t belong to her against her chest. The last thing she remembered from
the night before was climbing into bed, her own bed. How she’d ended up here was a mystery.
A horrible thought occurred to her and she peeked under the
blanket. “Oh, thank goodness.” She still had on her pajama set. At least she
hadn’t done something extremely foolish and irrational. Her happiness lasted
only a moment before she realized if she hadn’t come here of her own free will,
that meant she’d been brought here unawares. She’d been kidnapped.
A noise from somewhere outside the room drew her attention,
and her eyes widened in alarm. Crap. She wasn’t alone.
It gave her satisfaction knowing her kidnapper would be
disappointed when he or she found out she wasn’t worth much. One look around
told her the person who owned this place had way more money than she did. If
they were looking for a decent ransom, they were about to be greatly
dissatisfied.
“You picked the wrong girl to kidnap.” Sliding out of bed,
she fought the urge to climb back under the warm blankets. This bed was much
more comfortable than hers, but alas, there was a kidnapper to deal with, and
she wouldn’t be caught lounging in bed like a damsel in distress no matter how
comfortable the sheets. She was here against her will despite how alluring the
place was.
Perusing the room, she calmly searched for an item that
could be used as a weapon. Her eyes locked on a brass candle holder, and she
quickly made her way over to it. Placing the candle to the side, she hefted the
large holder into her hand. “You’ll do.”
Holding her new weapon like a club, she marched with purpose
toward the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. “Not the smartest
kidnapper, are you?” Easing the door open, she peeked into the hallway.
Gorgeous hardwood floors stretched the length of a seemingly
endless hall. Straight across from her was a lavishly carved banister
overlooking the main foyer of the house. Below were black marble floors and a
pricey looking chandelier.
“Holy wow,” she breathed in awe as she tiptoed toward a wide
staircase that looked like it belonged in an opera house. “I’ve been kidnapped
by Brad Pitt!” In amazement, she tiptoed down the stairs, feeling out of place
in her fuzzy pajama bottoms and spaghetti strap top.
Reaching the main landing, she could have easily run for the
front door, yet she found herself turning toward the noises coming from the
room beyond. She was curious to know what type of person owned this mansion and
harbored the urge to kidnap her.
As she approached the door in front of her,
Lincoln
heard the
unmistakable sound of a kitchen. Whoever was on the other side of the door was
cooking and seemingly having a really good time of it.
A male voice belted an oldies tune accompanied by the clang
of pots and pans.
In disbelief, she pushed open the kitchen door and tiptoed
inside. The man whose tenor filled the room had his back to her, but he was
good looking even from this angle.
His shoulders rippled with muscles beneath a fitted black
t-shirt. His jeans were so tight, it was impossible not to stare at his
backside. He had a gorgeous mane of shoulder length blond hair pulled back into
a ponytail.
Lincoln
stared
transfixed. Her kidnapper was not only rich, but he was better looking than her
original guess of Brad Pitt. As confusion whirled through her mind, the man
finally turned around, drawing a gasp from her
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