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be the brunette’s daughter. He wouldn’t have minded being her gift.
    Rolling his eyes at his own wayward thoughts, Greg watched her close the dresser and waited expectantly for her to turn her attention to him, but she didn’t. Much to his amazement, she merely walked back to the door, obviously intending to exit the room without so much as a by-your-leave. Greg was so shocked that his mouth opened and closed twice before he managed to get out a simple, “Excuse me.”
    The blonde paused at the door and turned to peer at him curiously.
    Greg forced a stiff smile and asked, “Do you think you could maybe untie me?”

    “Untie you?” Appearing surprised by the request, she moved to the bedside to peer down at him.
    “Yes, please,” he said firmly, noting the way her gaze slid over his hands. Greg knew his wrists were red and abraded from tugging at his bindings. Their state seemed to confuse and distress her.
    “Why didn’t Mother calm you? She shouldn’t have left you like this. Why—” She paused and blinked, then understanding filled her face. “Oh, of course. Bastien’s early arrival must have interrupted her before she could properly settle you. She probably meant to come back and finish with you after, but forgot.”
    Greg didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, except that she seemed to think her mother had brought him here and he was positive she was wrong. “The woman who brought me here was too young to be your mother. She looked like you, but had dark hair. Your sister maybe?” he guessed.
    For some reason his words made her smile. “I don’t have a sister. The woman you’re describing is my mother. She’s older than she looks.”
    Greg accepted this with some incredulity, then his eyes widened at the ramifications of what she was saying. “Then, I’m your birthday gift?”
    She nodded slowly, then tilted her head, and said, “That’s an odd smile. What are you thinking?”
    Greg was thinking he was the luckiest son of a bitch alive as his mind automatically readjusted his earlier imaginings of a large, ugly woman stripping and climbing on top of him, to this woman doing so. He allowed himself to enjoy the fantasy for a moment, but then realized that his body was enjoying it way too much, a noticeable bulge was growing in his pants. He gave his heada shake. As delightful as a night as this woman’s sex slave might be, he had plans—a trip full of sandy beaches, palm trees, and half-naked women gyrating on a dance floor. And it was already paid for.
    Now…if after his trip this woman wanted to go on a date in the normal way, then tie him to a bed and have her way with him…Well, Greg liked to consider himself an obliging sort. Besides, in this case, he thought being a sex slave might not be so bad. Realizing his thoughts were wandering into areas better left alone for now, Greg gave himself a mental kick and forced a stern look to his face. “Kidnapping is illegal.”
    Her eyebrows rose. “Did Mom kidnap you?”
    “Not exactly,” he admitted, recalling how he’d climbed into the trunk under his own impetus. Kidnapping generally required being forcibly taken away. Greg supposed he could have lied; however, he was a poor liar. “But I don’t want to be here, and really I don’t have any idea why I climbed into the trunk of your mother’s car. It seemed the most natural thing to do at the time, but I’ve never…”
    Greg’s voice trailed away as he realized that the blonde wasn’t listening to him. At least, she didn’t appear to be. She was staring at his head with concentration and a deepening frown. She was also moving closer to the bed, though he suspected it was a subconscious action. She seemed wholly concentrated on his hair, but then she shook her head with apparent frustration, and muttered, “I can’t read your mind.”
    “You can’t read my mind?” Greg echoed slowly.
    She shook her head.
    “I see…and…er…is that a problem?” he queried. “I