Christmas Stalking. Jo Leigh

      Sleep refused to come so easily to her. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, replaying the day in her mind, wondering if she couldn’t have done something, anything to have stopped this before it had started.

      She wondered if her father was still awake. He’d undoubtedly missed her when she hadn’t returned to the house. Had he called the police? The FBI? Had he told them she’d been stalked?

      She peered over at the man beside her. What if Max Travis wasn’t the madman he appeared to be? Despite her escape attempts, he hadn’t molested her or really harmed her in any way.

      Once they were in the cabin, she hadn’t felt terribly threatened. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense. She’d read about Stockholm Syndrome, where kidnap victims came to display a strange association with their captors, identifying with them while fearing those who sought to end their captivity. Only, that tended to happen after a much longer period of captivity.

      The thing was, she knew Max had his facts all screwed up, but if he truly believed what he was telling her, then his actions made a kind of twisted sense. Of course her father wasn’t involved in any gambling and he certainly wasn’t being blackmailed. The only reason she could possibly come up with to lend credence to Max’s accusations was the fact that her father had shifted his opinion on Geotech. With his change of heart, the rest of the committee was certain to give the massive energy contract to the company.

      Although she’d been surprised by his actions, it wasn’t unprecedented. As her dad had explained, he’d done more research and when he’d learned more about the company, he’d decided to change his position. It was one of the great things about him, his willingness to learn, to change, to admit publicly that he had made too quick a judgment. But to someone on the outside, who didn’t understand his integrity, it could look suspicious.

      Tomorrow, Max was going to show her his evidence. She’d use the opportunity to enlighten him about her father. If she was reasonable, listened respectfully, perhaps Max would come around. She still wasn’t sure he hadn’t killed his father’s friend, so she’d have to watch her step, but he hadn’t acted like a psycho or anything. Delusional, yes. Dangerous? The jury was still out, but her instincts said no.

      Then again, Ted Bundy had supposedly been a real charming guy.

      Ah, hell, she was too exhausted to think. She tried to listen for the sounds of distant traffic, but could hear nothing but a faraway airplane. And Max’s breathing.

      She snuggled down under the covers, a breath away from him, his heat helping to warm her. Tonight she’d force herself to sleep. Tomorrow there’d be another chance for escape.

      Chapter Four

      Light. Almost blinding light. And something else—her bladder ached. God, she shouldn’t have had that last cup of coffee.

      She started to get out of bed and remembered—the abduction, her escape attempts, the handcuffs.

      Max.

      She rolled as best she could and poked him in the ribs with her free hand. “Max. Wake up.”

      He snorted and turned his back to her.

      She poked him again, hard. “Max. Damn it. Wake up.”

      He rolled back toward her, shading his eyes from the onslaught of light. “Huh?” He blinked several times as though he, too, were catching up on recent events.

      “If you don’t get me to the bathroom in a very short time, we’re both going to be sorry.”

      He sat up and rubbed his eyes, and Jade stared at his bare chest, sharply defined pecs, a light mat of curly black chest hair.

      “C’mon. Move it.”

      “Okay, okay.” He pushed the covers down and crawled across her, landing on the throw rug next to the bed. From there he stumbled to the chair where he’d draped yesterday’s clothes and fumbled in his pant pocket.

      “Would you please hurry?”

      He grabbed the gun before he turned back. As he moved toward her, she noticed the bulge in the front of his pajamas. She turned her head. Too much information about a man she didn’t want to know. He fumbled with the handcuffs, finally getting them unlocked, and she was off the bed and scurrying to the bathroom before he’d taken the key out of the cuffs.

      Max walked into the living room area, his feet cold on the bare wood. He shed his pajamas and pulled on his pants, tucking the gun behind his back, suddenly aware that he, too, needed to use the facilities. “Don’t take all day,” he called. He couldn’t hear her response clearly, but was sure there was a “back off” in it somewhere. He sighed and debated turning on the news.

      The toilet flushed, and Max headed for the bathroom door again, only to hear the sound of water running in the sink. “What’re you doing?”

      “Brushing my teeth.”

      “Can’t you wait a couple of minutes?”

      “Morning breath. Hang on.”

      “Jade, please.”

      She took pity on him, and a moment later, he’d shut himself behind the door.

      He knew she was waiting for him to leave so she could finish with her teeth, but even after taking care of business, he still had a bit of a problem, and he didn’t want to go into the living room with the tent in his pants.

      He grabbed his toothbrush and anointed it with minty toothpaste. He got it as far as his mouth before he realized he’d left her out there on her own. He dropped the toothbrush and threw open the door.

      Jade was right outside, holding up her still-wet toothbrush. She blinked at him and shrank back.

      Thank God she hadn’t run. Not that she could have gotten far. But he didn’t need the aggravation. He had to remember to keep her cuffed when he wasn’t with her. He sucked as a kidnapper.

      Her bare legs drew his gaze, as did her cherry red, painted toenails. He forced himself to look away. “Stay right here.”

      He went back inside and finished brushing his teeth, leaving the door open so he could keep an eye on her.

      JADE WATCHED HIM at the sink, studying the curve of his backside, the breadth of his shoulders. Nothing personal. It was like looking at a piece of art. The important thing was not to look down at his jeans. His arousal had nothing to do with her, but everything to do with Max being a guy. All she had to do was keep her gaze on his face. So the second he opened the door, her gaze went right there. Just like that.

      The tent had folded.

      Which just proved that he was a normal guy, and she was clearly a perv. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, glad that he couldn’t see the bright red blush on her cheeks. So okay, she had to admit that under ordinary circumstances, the sight of Max’s body would generate considerable interest. He didn’t have the overbuilt weight lifter’s upper body, but he didn’t seem to have an ounce of extra fat either. And just enough chest and stomach hair to be interesting, a light trail heading downward from his abs….

      Jade shook her head as she turned on the water. Good God, what did it say about her that she’d been kidnapped, stolen from her life by a man who quite possibly was a cold-blooded killer, and she was thinking about his abs? Maybe a therapist wasn’t such a bad idea.

      She finished in the bathroom, having chastised herself to the point of boredom, and reentered the living room. When she’d first arrived last night, she’d been far too worried about Max to really examine her surroundings, so she took advantage of the moment to look around.

      It appeared to be one of those manufactured log cabins, a single large room divided into sections more by furniture than architecture, with the exception of a countertop between the kitchenette and the rest of the room and the half wall by the bathroom. Nothing that clued her to the sanity—or lack thereof—of Max Travis. Nothing