“You’re welcome!” He ducked his head a little, one hand shoving the hair back from his forehead. He needed a haircut, she noted. “Red is a good color for you, and you have damn nice legs.”
Dani unclenched her fists, though speaking was still difficult for some reason. “Thank you. I work my ass off.”
They stared at each other a long moment.
Luke cleared his throat. “Uh... Now what?”
“Now we wait. No one told you what’s going on?”
“I have no fu—I don’t know anything. They kind of stopped talking to me,” Luke said, staring at the floor. “I took a swing at one of the guards. Apparently, that’s not polite in this house. They stopped talking to me after that. Haven’t fed me for a couple days either.”
“They didn’t feed you?” Dani’s hand shot to her mouth. Her stomach clenched. They would be that mean? “I thought you weren’t coming to dinner because you didn’t want to see me. That you were pissed off.”
“Not my choice. I’m just damn grateful there’s a bathroom in my room.”
“Every bedroom has a private bath in this house.” She made a face. She should have asked about Luke. Instead of pounding the floor, she should have made sure he was okay. “You know, lifestyles of the über-privileged...”
Luke sighed, and then nodded. “I assume there are several sewage jokes one could use to explain this family needing so many commodes?”
“I’m a member of this family, Mr. Mc—Milligan,” Dani said, only remembering at the last minute to use his cover name, as she realized everyone was probably listening in on them. “Take care what you say about us.” She sank down onto the couch, making a point to cross her legs. His eyes followed the movement. For a moment she thought he might choke.
Despite the situation, she found herself nearly smiling. Nearly. She hid it just in time.
“Excuse me for being a bit bitter, I just haven’t really had the opportunity to experience the good side of this particular family. Or, for that matter, have yet to find a good side. Though, admittedly, my exposure has been somewhat limited.” He licked his lips. “Thank you for saving my ass. Sort of.”
“I did what I had to do,” Dani said, shifting her legs again just to watch his face. He was starting to look rather flushed.
For that matter, she was starting to feel rather flushed.
“I’ll remember that in the future, Ms. Rinehart,” Luke said with a staccato delivery. Every word was clipped and crisp as though he had to bite them off and throw them at her like some sort of grenade. “I will keep in mind that your loyalties are very clear.”
He was no longer looking at her legs, or even looking at her at all. He rested a hip against the desk, and played with something in his pocket. She stared at the empty pen holder on the desk and wondered if perhaps he were going to play MacGyver with the nib of a fountain pen.
She wouldn’t put it past him.
“If my loyalties were as clear as you think Mr. Milligan,” she stressed the name to remind him that she knew his real name and why he was using an alias, “you would find yourself in greatly less comfortable surroundings.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest. Great, thick arms over a barrel chest. He said nothing more, but stared at her hard.
Dani turned and walked casually to the desk, propping one hip on the corner of it, sharing his space, forcing him to look at her. She stretched one leg out and bent the other knee. His gaze slipped to her legs and then shot back up again to her face.
She suppressed a smile. Gotcha.
It was as petty and childish as stomping the floor, but surprisingly satisfying in its own way. When you have no control over your life, you take what you can get. Like now, when she could smell the faint scent of soap and the underlying masculine smell that was purely him. She could feel his body heat all along her left side... if she just moved a little they would be touching—
The door opened and Uncle Benny came through, all smiles, the perfect uncle as though none of them were threatened prisoners.
“All right, kids,” he chortled, rubbing his hands together in a way that was altogether too gleeful for one of America’s Most Wanted. “Let’s be off then; I have the room, the caterer, and the cake maker meeting us. We’ll discuss the bridal gown later.” He pointed to Dani, who was trying to keep up. It was like the older man was unware that this entire production was a sham. A sham of his own creation, no less.
“Is David coming?” she asked, wondering just what her erstwhile brother was up to in all of this.
“No.” Benny smiled bigger. “No, David is going to stay here with my men. I wouldn’t want him wandering off. Or either of you for that matter.”
Huh. So he was a prisoner now, too. It made her wonder what he’d been up to. She nodded, acknowledging the implied threat.
Luke simply glared. She could positively feel the anger emanating from him.
“Bring the car around, gentlemen; we’ve a wedding to plan!” Benny shouted, and walked out of the office. Two men stepped in and pulled their guns. They indicated that Dani and Luke were to follow him.
The betrothed exchanged glances.
Reluctantly, they complied.
Just a fun little outing to plan the most important day of their lives—like something straight out of the romance novels.
They couldn’t be happier.
CHAPTER THREE
The hotel was not what he’d expected. At all.
Luke let a quick sound of surprise escape, glancing sharply at Benny and the Jets (as he’d come to calling the bully boys in his mind). He doubted they’d heard. So far, he’d been able to school his features, but then he’d been held captive and undercover too long, so keeping a straight face became as natural as breathing.
The hotel had gone all out. This was what wealth did. Enormous wealth. The caterer and cake maker and designers galore stood proudly behind enormous tables, each with a display vaguely reminiscent of his eighth-grade science fair. Only instead of trifold cardboard showing the effect of caffeine on plant growth, or how to transmit sounds underwater, there were pictures and samples and displays showing great accomplishments of the past. One table held tiered trays, each holding a handful of tiny, beautiful cakes. Wedding cakes in miniature, he realized in horror, wondering at the sheer amount of work that went into decorating something the size of a cupcake just to give them a chance to sample the flavors offered.
Silly him, he’d thought the question would have stopped at vanilla or chocolate.
If I have to eat one of each one of those, I’m going to be sick.