Kidnapped!. Jo Leigh

      Dr. Bay smiled. “That’s a good idea.” She turned to Brody. “Let’s discuss constraints.”

      “I typically use rope and handcuffs. Since she—” He stopped, turned his head a half inch so he was looking at Tate. “Since you’ll only be with us for a few hours, the constraints won’t be too extreme. And I’ll be there every step of the way to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

      “It won’t do me any good to have you go so easy I don’t get any part of the experience. I believe the purpose is to make sure I survive, right?”

      “I don’t think that will be a problem,” Dr. Bay said. “You’ll feel as if it’s real.”

      Tate blushed again. She got the message loud and clear: her phobia was so severe Brody wouldn’t have to do much in the way of convincing her. “Fine. Let’s move on.”

      “YOU’RE INSANE.”

      “Thank you,” Tate said as she handed Sara her plate. Pilar had made a sinful lasagna, which happened to be Tate’s favorite dish, but the casserole was large enough to feed an army.

      “I’m serious. Personally I think your precious Dr. Bay has a screw loose. This has to be one of the dumbest things I can think of.”

      Tate took her own plate, which had a small square of lasagna and a spinach salad, and her glass of wine and followed Sara as she made her way up to the solarium on the roof. It was their favorite place to eat, to talk. In her little area of New York the buildings weren’t skyscrapers; the view was of Central Park, and her rooftop garden was the highest thing around.

      Sara got herself comfy, and Tate thought her friend had never looked better. Sara had been her downstairs neighbor since second grade, when they’d both lived in a brownstone on East Forty-fourth Street. They’d stayed close all these years. She had always thought of herself as chubby, even though Tate had told her that size ten wasn’t in the least fat and that she was beautiful. It was the company she kept that made her feel big. Sara worked as an editor for Vanity Fair magazine, and most of the women she knew were bulimic and looked as if they’d been starved.

      This year, though, something had changed. Sara had finally decided that she’d just focus on being healthy—tonight’s lasagna notwithstanding—and she’d been working out with a private trainer for months.

      “You look fabulous.”

      Sara had just put a large forkful of pasta in her mouth, and at Tate’s compliment she nearly choked. When she finally got her breath back, she shook her head. “No way you’re changing the subject.”

      “I wasn’t trying to change anything. I just think you look—”

      “Fabulous. Right. Now here’s my question—have you or haven’t you invited Michael inside after work?”

      Tate felt the instant rise of heat in her cheeks. “Not yet.”

      “Not yet.” Sara put her fork down and somehow managed to look stern and motherly despite the fact that she was Tate’s age and her hair was a mass of wild blond curls. “You can’t even ask Hotty McSwoon into your home, let alone into your bed, and you’re going to get kidnapped? By strangers? With rope and handcuffs? You don’t see a problem with this?”

      “I know. It sounds crazy. But the whole reason I haven’t invited Michael in is because I’m scared. Of everything. Or haven’t you noticed?”

      “Of course I know you’re scared, but let’s look at the progression here. First kidnap, then sex?”

      “Yes. And I don’t know that he’d even want to have sex.”

      Sara laughed. “Oh, please. The way you two look at each other in that limo? I’m surprised you both don’t come at every stoplight.”

      “Sara!”

      “It’s true and you know it.”

      Tate got busy with her lasagna, wishing now she’d taken a much bigger piece. Just thinking about Michael was enough to get her all hot and bothered, and even though Sara was her closest friend, she didn’t like to feel like this except in the privacy of her own bedroom.

      “Tate, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

      “Nothing.”

      “Talk to me, girl. This is a huge decision.”

      “I know. I’m just so tired of being me. If I could have an exorcism, I would. But I don’t think it’s a devil that makes me so scared. I’ve set up my whole life to be safe, but the cost is huge. I would love to go to the gym with you. I’d love to go back to Italy. I can travel anywhere in the world, but all I see is this place.” She felt tears burn her eyes, and dammit, she didn’t want to cry. “I really think this kidnapping thing will change me. I have to take the chance.”

      “What does Michael think?”

      “He agrees with you. That it’s insane. But I have to go with my gut on this. I’ve made sure that I can stop things in a minute if I need to. I hope I don’t have to. I want to be a real person, not a shadow.” She pushed her plate away, suddenly not hungry. “I need you to support me, Sara. Please. I need all the good karma I can get.”

      Sara reached over and put her hand on Tate’s. “I’ll support you no matter what, okay? Think it through. Make sure this isn’t going to make things worse.”

      “It can’t get much worse.”

      Sara sighed. She looked around the solarium, at all the plants and flowers, the miniature fruit trees and the tall grasses by the fountain. “I want you to be happy. For what it’s worth, I think Michael’s a really great guy, and you could do a lot worse than getting back in the game with him. But let him in on the kidnap plan. Let him make sure nothing goes haywire.”

      “No. He can’t be there or it won’t be real.”

      “It’s not going to be real.”

      “You know what I mean.”

      Sara sighed. “Yeah, I do.”

      Tate grinned. “Can you stick around for a movie?”

      “Sure I can. But only if I get to pick.”

      “We’re not going to watch Notting Hill again.”

      “Spoilsport.”

      “Deal with it.”

      Sara lifted her glass of wine. “To stubborn women.”

      Tate raised her own glass. “Amen.”

      SHE DIDN’T THINK about the kidnapping or Michael until after Sara left. Tate had gone to her bedroom where she’d washed and gotten into her sleep shirt, then climbed into her bed. She wished she had a cat or a puppy, something to sleep with her. Her father was terribly allergic, so she’d never had her own pet, but this was her house, and if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to visit.

      The moment she closed her eyes she knew it wasn’t a pet she wanted sharing her bed. She wanted Michael.

      He really was an exceptional man. She knew he wasn’t thrilled with his life, that he wished he was back doing his 007 thing, but when they were together, him in the front seat, her in the back, there was a connection between them. Even Sara had noticed.

      Of course, there was no real future with Michael, but that was all right. Sara had hit the nail on the head—Michael would be ideal as her first after so, so long. He’d be gentle and caring….

      A fling. That’s all she wanted. Really.

      4

      AS HE STOOD LEANING against the limo, waiting for Tate to finish her shopping, Michael thought once more about going to William. It had been a week since Tate had told him she’d agreed to the kidnapping. In that time Michael had met