High Stakes. Barbara Dunlop

had left something behind. He headed toward the new bank of windows overlooking the hotel boardwalk and the marina on Lake Washington. He’d definitely give Jenna and Candice points for discovering the big arched window openings. The view alone was going to increase the Lighthouse’s customer base.

      He peeked under a couple of tarps and moved some plywood, hoping for an air ratchet or a stray Phillips head screwdriver. He found nothing. The tradesmen were obviously neat and well organized.

      “Any luck?” asked Candice from the kitchen doorway. She’d left her shoes behind.

      He wasn’t sure which was worse, the way her sleek little calves had curved down toward the skinny straps and spiky heels, or her sexy stocking-clad feet. The strapless dress revealed her smooth shoulders, and it was tight enough to prove that, despite the hard edge to her arguments, she had a body that was soft in all the right places.

      Her blond hair was done up in swirls and curls, but the long evening was beginning to show on it. Wisps had worked their way free to tickle her temples and the base of her neck. She oozed tousled sensuality, and he had to drag his attention away.

      “Nothing so far,” he said.

      She began hunting from the other end of the room. “Why would Tyler do something this drastic?”

      “He’s protecting Jenna.” Derek was trying to be charitable toward his brother, but he had to admit it was tough to keep from plotting his demise.

      “He doesn’t need to protect Jenna from me. I’m her partner, her friend. I was her maid of honor for goodness’ sake.”

      He lifted the last tarp, checking a makeshift construction table underneath. Sawdust, a measuring tape, a plumb line and a carpenter’s pencil. Nothing of any value to their current plight. “It’s your relationship with me that’s the problem.”

      Candice stepped carefully around a couple of saw-horses. “I don’t have a relationship with you.”

      “Jenna’s tired of listening to us bicker on the job site.” He frowned at Candice’s feet. There could be metal shavings and stray nails on the floor. Not to mention the danger of splinters. “You should put your shoes back on.”

      “I don’t bicker. And I can’t put my shoes on.”

      “Why not? The shoes part.” He could debate the bicker part all night long if necessary.

      “My feet are swollen. The shoes don’t fit anymore.”

      “Well then sit down.” He strode over to the corner of the dining room and pulled one of the padded restaurant chairs from under the tarp. Their red velvet upholstery was faded, and the carved walnut arms would have to be refinished, but they were still very comfortable.

      Choosing a relatively clear corner near the windows, he set it down. “Last thing I need is for you to get hurt.”

      “Always the gentleman.”

      He retrieved a second chair, then placed one of the tables between the two. “Damn straight.”

      She picked her way across the room and sat down.

      He was both surprised and grateful that she finally did something he asked. He suspected there was a first-aid kit in the kitchen somewhere, but he didn’t want to have to look for it because Candy had a nail in her foot.

      “Find anything we can use?” she asked.

      “Nobody left a screwdriver behind,” he replied.

      “And, you can’t break down the door?”

      “You really want me to?”

      She sighed, curling her feet beneath her, tucking the dress over her knees. “No. That would be irresponsible. It’s a great door.”

      Derek sat down in the other chair. “My shoulder would probably break before the door anyway. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

      “True.” She propped her elbows on the table. “You really think we’re that bad?”

      “Bad how?”

      “Enough of a problem to warrant this.” She gestured around the room.

      “Tyler’s overreacting.”

      “Maybe it is a joke. Maybe he’ll be back soon.”

      Derek doubted that. “Maybe.”

      Candice brightened. “Good. So, what do we do while we wait?”

      “You’re asking me? I thought I was a waste of air.”

      A grin sneaked out on her face. “Did I really say that?”

      “More than once.”

      “Goes to show you how desperate I am.”

      “You hungry?” He didn’t know about Candy, but he hadn’t had a chance to eat at the reception. Since they’d exhausted all of the obvious escape plans, and sitting here twiddling their thumbs wasn’t going to do any good, they might as well make the best of their captivity.

      “What do you mean hungry?” she asked. “Did Tyler leave a picnic I don’t know about?”

      “We’re in a restaurant.”

      She glanced toward the kitchen, forehead furrowing. “You mean we can…”

      “Far as I know, it’s still in working order.” Derek rose from his chair. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Tyler would have a change of heart in a couple of hours. In the meantime, there was no need for them to starve.

      She peered through the doorway. “You know how to operate that stuff? It looks pretty complicated.”

      He held a hand out to her. “If you’re hungry. I’ll cook you something.”

      “Really?”

      “No. I’m a ogre, and I’m toying with you.”

      “Wouldn’t put it past you.”

      “Come on.” He moved closer. “I’ll carry you over the danger zone.”

      “Oh, no you won’t.”

      “Don’t get all obstinate on me.” Crouching, he slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees. “Not when I just got you to admit I wasn’t a waste of air.” He easily hoisted her up, settling her against his chest.

      She stiffened. “I never admitted any such thing. Put me down.”

      “I can put you down. But if you get a nail in your foot, we’re going to be in big trouble.”

      “A nail?”

      “It’s a construction site.”

      She glanced suspiciously at the floor. Then her hands went around his neck. “Oh. Well. In that case. Okay.”

      His footsteps echoed as he paced across the room.

      After a moment, Candice relaxed against him, all supple muscles and smooth curves. Her fingers brushed rhythmically against the nape of his neck, and her soft bottom nestled against his stomach. Her skin was warm through the sheer stockings, heating his fingertips.

      “Can I make a mighty steed joke?” she asked.

      He sucked in a breath and tightened his grip, trying to ignore the glimpse of her creamy cleavage. “Not unless you want to leave yourself wide-open again.”

      Her clear green eyes widened and an unexpected blush rose in her cheeks as the meaning of his words sank in.

      Aha. Her Achilles’ heel. If he made it sexy, it kept her quiet.

      He’d have to remember that.

      NESTLED AGAINST Derek’s broad chest, Candice felt as though she’d tumbled into an illicit fantasy. She’d admit to admiring his body on occasion. What woman wouldn’t