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That got a half grin out of him. “I didn’t say it was legal.”

Jayne pursed her lips slightly. As a politician’s daughter, she’d lived all her life under a microscope. Every detail, every decision, every move properly scrutinized. She couldn’t even leave the house without carefully checking her clothes, makeup and hair. To disregard the law with a smile…she couldn’t even imagine.

Boone frowned. “I see you don’t approve.”

“It’s just…I’m sure you have your reasons.” In truth, she didn’t care why he was here. Just that he was.

“I do.”

Jayne sighed. Boone had been honest with her. It was the least she could do for him.

“My father—”

“Can’t we leave Daddy out of this?” Boone said again.

Jayne looked him in the eye. “I don’t think so.” He waited for her to continue. Eyes steady, chest bare, dark hair hanging over his shoulders. “My father is a United States senator. From Mississippi,” she added. “Augustus Barrington.”

He remained silent.

“Jim and I were on our way to a party given by a potential supporter who might go a long way in aiding my father financially should he decide to run for…a higher office.”

Boone didn’t so much as move. Did he even breathe?

“My disappearance is going to cause an uproar,” she went on. “A big one. My father will do his best to get every government agency available on the job. So we have until morning. Maybe.”

Boone ran one hand through his hair and let loose with an even viler string of profanity than before. He didn’t look at her, but stared at the floor and the wall and the window as he cursed.

“Mr. Sinclair,” she chided softly, censure in her soft voice, “do you mind?”

He fixed his gaze on her again and responded succinctly with the most foul of forbidden words.

Jayne tightened her lips. “You know, there are other words you can call upon when you’re upset.”

“Really,” he drawled.

“Darn or drat or a good doggone work just as well.”

He grinned at her, insolent and amused. And again muttered what seemed to be his favorite word.

“Or fudge,” she said lightly. “I have, on frustrating occasions when no one is about, muttered an ‘oh, fudge’ myself.”

“Oh, fudge,” he growled.

“See?” She smiled. If nothing else, she did know how to get men to do as she wished. It was a gift. “That works just fine, doesn’t it?”

Boone left the bed quickly, his back to her as he retrieved his T-shirt. Good! He was going to get dressed. As fine a specimen as he was, his bare chest had become quite distracting.

“Here,” he said, turning and tossing the garment to her. “Put this on.”

Jayne caught the shirt, then held it cautiously between two fingers. “I’m perfectly comfortable in my own clothes, thank you. Besides—” she sniffed “—you’ve worn this, and it hasn’t been washed.”

Boone pressed the bridge of his nose between two fingers, as if he had a headache coming on. “In less than a week I should be done here. Three months of work, down to a matter of days, and now this. I can keep you alive, but you have to listen to me. You have to let me do what I do best.”

“What’s that?” Jayne whispered.

“Lie.” He dropped his hand and glared at her. “As far as Darryl and those two idiots of his are concerned, you and I are hot and heavy.”

“Hot and heavy?” She took an unsteady breath. “You just…you dragged me away from the car back there…and you kidnapped me. What kind of woman would willingly become intimately involved with a man who literally dragged her to his…his cave as if she were nothing more than…”

Boone’s raised hand silenced her. “I know,” he said. “But we’re looking for two things here. One, we want to keep them away from you.”

Jayne shuddered.

“You wear my clothes, you stick close to me at all times, we spend a lot of time right here in this bed.” He took an unsteady breath of his own. “You’re mine. We make it clear that you’re mine. The guys know that if they try anything funny, they’ll have me to contend with.”

And Boone Sinclair looked as if he would be awe-inspiring to contend with.

“Two, we want to keep you alive.”

“Definitely.” Jayne nodded emphatically.

“If they think you’re going to keep trying to run away, one of them is going to get antsy and…do something drastic.”

Kill you. Boone didn’t say the words, but Jayne knew what he meant.

“So you stick to me,” he said, as if he didn’t like the idea at all. “You lie low, keep your mouth shut, and in a few days I deliver you home.”

She still didn’t know why Boone Sinclair was here. He could get them both out of this horrible place whenever he wanted, she had no doubt of that. So why didn’t he? What was so important that he would risk both their lives? “You never did tell me why you’re here,” she said softly.

“No, I didn’t.”

“If I’m going to have to…pretend to like you and all that, shouldn’t I know?”

He pinned his eyes to hers again. Oh, he had a way of looking at her that made her arms tingle and her toes curl. She unconsciously raised her arms to hug herself, to chase away the unexpected chill.

“No,” Boone finally said, and then he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter 3

A night of sleeping on the hard floor did nothing to improve Boone’s disposition. He had planned to ask Jayne if she minded sharing the bed—platonically, of course—but she’d been sound asleep by the time he’d returned to the room last night. Asleep! She either trusted him completely, a frightening possibility, or she had no self-preservation instincts whatsoever. Neither option was good.

If she’d come awake in the middle of the night and found him sleeping beside her, she probably would have come off the bed screaming. Which wouldn’t have necessarily been a bad thing, now that he thought about it. The occasional cry in the night was probably expected.

He rolled up and peered over the edge of the mattress to find Jayne still sleeping. She hadn’t put on his T-shirt as he’d told her to. She slept in a silky white slip. He hadn’t known women still wore slips! All he could see of the undergarment were the straps, one of which had fallen off her shoulder, but last night he’d caught a glimpse of white against the thigh that had escaped from beneath the sheet on his bed. He’d covered that thigh, feeling a little guilty for enjoying the sight so much, and Jayne hadn’t tossed the covers off in the night. If anything, she caught the covers to her more tightly and securely than she had last night, hiding there beneath white sheets and the twisted green comforter.

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