“I’m sure I know what I’m doing,” Sonia affirmed.

“It’s not like it would be any bother for me to wait a few minutes for you.” Charlie sent her a sidelong glance as he slammed his boot on the brake in the parking lot. “He’s been working every night this week.”

“Believe me, I know that.”

“And if he’s smack-dab in the middle of something, you’re going to be stuck waiting around.”

“I will not be stuck,” Sonia promised firmly.

“I just can’t see stranding you…”

Leaning across the pickup seat, she pressed a very firm, very affectionate smack on Charlie’s cheek. “I refuse to say it another time. Now just get out of here and stop feeling guilty, would you, Charlie? If worse comes to worst, I can drive Craig’s car home and then come back and pick him up later.”

Charlie shot her a disapproving glance. She escaped from the pickup before he could argue any further, and waved at him cheerfully until he had no choice but to back up and zoom away.

Alone, she took a massive breath into her lungs and stood in front of Craig’s office, feeling miserably stranded.

A late afternoon wind whipped her skirts up to her thighs and cavorted with her once-perfect hairstyle. Wind or no, the temperature had to be climbing past ninety. The predatory sun spotted its lone victim and attacked, baking her instantly from her crown to her toes. Still, Sonia stood motionless for a minute, and then turned restlessly, staring at the office door as she wandered toward it.

She’d pushed that door open dozens of times, but never dressed in gold earrings and gold belt and gold sandals. The only other thing she wore was a very simple little white silk jersey dress with a flowing skirt and draped bodice and a few crisscross straps in back. White was a symbol of virtue, though the dress lacked something along those lines. The soft material draped and flowed around her figure in a way that suggested a great many things, and none of them virtuous. Furthermore, she hadn’t a stitch on underneath it.

There was no question that it took more nerve than brains to show up at the office in such attire.

She was dressed for seduction, which was rather ironic, since sex was absolutely the last thing on her mind. Diverting her husband was on her mind. Women who played sexual games to get what they wanted had always disgusted her. On the other hand, when one was desperate, one used the weapons at hand.

She hadn’t known what else to do. Her world wasn’t exactly crumbling-just tipping precariously. Craig had been avoiding her this past week. His excuse was twelve-hour work days; her instincts told her otherwise. And in those same twelve-hour days, Sonia had shamelessly plotted to get her husband alone. A vacation for just the two of them was her goal…but if Craig wouldn’t go? If he really didn’t want to be alone with her…

Fear was a funny thing. She’d felt fear in Chicago. This was a different fear, far more threatening. She felt as if she were fighting a ghost she couldn’t see face-to-face. As if there were a mountain between her and Craig and she didn’t know how to cross it.

She had to try.

Renewed determination bolstered her flagging confidence, and she firmly pushed open the door. Cool air and silence greeted her, both reasonably calming the flutter of nerves in her head. Stubbornness sparkled in her eyes as she neared the sound of Mrs. Heath’s typing outside Craig’s office.

The older woman glanced up, her surprised smile as quick as the welcome in her dark gray eyes. “Mrs. Hamilton! I certainly didn’t expect to see you here!”

“I know, Mrs. Heath, and Craig doesn’t expect me either.” She hesitated. “Am I going to be in terrible hot water if I steal him away to dinner?” she whispered.

The other woman chuckled, her eyes whisking over Sonia’s attire approvingly. “Trouble?” she whispered back. “You’ll get a medal from all of us. Get that man out of our hair for a while! He’s been driving us all nuts this past week. Crises are one thing, but even in the best of times I swear that man never takes a coffee break.”

Sonia nodded. “I had a feeling he was overdoing it.” She motioned toward the closed door. “Anyone with him?”

“Just John. I can-”

“It’s all right. I’ll wait.”

They chatted a few minutes more; it wasn’t long before the inner office door opened. Sonia saw John’s back first. He kept his hand on the doorknob as he continued talking pressure tolerances and other technical problems. Then he glanced around and spotted Sonia. His long, low wolf whistle immediately terminated that conversation.

Craig’s head immediately whipped around the door, annoyance radiating from him even before he’d recognized the source of irritation. The source promptly vaulted in his general direction. “Hi,” she said simply, offering a secret wink for Mrs. Heath, and seconds later closed the door on John, Mrs. Heath and the rest of the world.

For at least an instant, she had one stunned husband on her hands. One had to take all the breaks one was offered in life. She stole a quick glance, only long enough to see what she already knew. Craig’s shirtsleeves were rolled up, there were hollows under his eyes, his hair looked as if his hands had run through it a dozen times that day, and his tie was askew. He looked, quite simply, exhausted. A man determined to drive himself too hard and too long.

“We’re going out to dinner,” she announced blithely. “I don’t want to hear any arguments. We’re going to drink a little wine, eat a very expensive steak…”

“Sonia? When on earth did you get here? How-?”

“At the Red Baron. We haven’t been there in ages. And if I were you, I wouldn’t put my hand anywhere near that briefcase, because you are definitely not taking it home tonight.” She spotted his suit jacket on the chair where he’d undoubtedly thrown it that morning. She moved to pick it up, then changed her mind. “This jacket is too hot,” she continued in the same brisk tone, “but we have to do a little something about your appearance before we go. Not much,” she assured him, with slightly more gentleness.

Her pulse was frantic as she approached him with quick steps, staring at his throat as she rebuttoned the collar of his shirt. His body was warm against her palm. Warm and still and tense. She tugged at his tie.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses,” she said severely. “If the whole place falls apart because you’re gone for a couple of hours, then it’s just going to have to fall apart. Mrs. Heath can order everyone around while you’re gone. She’s already agreed.” Sonia was having a terrible time with the tie, primarily because her fingers were all thumbs. She darted a quick glance up, to see how Craig was taking all the bossing.

She relaxed, her fingers suddenly managing the tie just fine. His weary eyes had a slight hint of exasperation, but his upper lip was twitching. “I get the idea I’m supposed to feel kidnapped,” he said mildly.

She stood back, hands on hips, pretending to make sure the tie was straight, knowing she couldn’t care less about the tie. “You’ll be lucky if you get off with a kidnapping,” she informed him.

“Now I’m really shaking in my shoes.”

She chuckled. Godzilla couldn’t make that man shake in his shoes, and Craig was just getting around to noticing her dress. Actually, he seemed to be noticing everything but the dress. She could feel the warmth of his gaze on her bare legs and bare throat and bare back as if it were the heat of the sun. Hurriedly, she picked up his jacket. “I’ll carry this.”

“Would you mind,” he asked gravely, “if I make a single phone call first?”

She shook her head. “Absolutely no phone calls. Any good kidnapping has to be pulled off clean. Give an inch and next thing you know the victim will be asking for ransom.”

“You sound quite experienced.”

“I started young in a life of crime.” She hesitated at the door, her tone abruptly, softly, Sonia again. “Craig, for heaven’s sake, if you really need to make a phone call-”

He made a swift motion toward the phone and then stopped, turning back to her. “It’ll wait,” he said gravely. “There’s no way I’m going to be late for my own kidnapping.” He opened the door.


***

The Red Baron was Cold Creek’s long-established hideaway for a nice seductive dinner. Candles set in red glass decorated every table; dark paneled walls and thick carpeting and tasteful oils on the walls added to a serenely luxurious atmosphere. A pocket-sized dance floor in the far corner included a pianist and bass player; the music was muted and low.

Craig glanced up as the busboy took their plates. When the man had gone, Craig watched Sonia lean over and tip a little more wine into his glass. That was his third, and she had barely touched her first.

At the moment, he was bone-weary, sated from an absolutely delicious dinner and utterly intrigued by the lady across from him. Sooner or later, he would figure out what she was up to.

The clues to the mystery were most interesting. The look of her would have seduced a monk, she’d chosen the most romantic place in town and she’d been plying him with wine. Furthermore, she’d set out to relax him over dinner as if it were her life’s purpose. The talk had all been simple and easy, her low, sweet laughter wafting toward him at intervals, her teasing sassy. He could smell her perfume; when she leaned toward him her bodice flirted with his eyes; and as she talked, those eyelashes of hers floated up and down with all the skill of a practiced flirt.

All those clues seemed conclusive. He hadn’t been fooled by her act from the time she’d excused herself for a second trip to the ladies’ room. Sonia was nervous. Those fluttering eyelashes shielded eyes that remarkably kept missing direct contact. All that subtly offered sexuality was a blind.