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the
bathroom.
    Clarissa
carefully skirted the bed, on which she could now make out a lumpy form that
could only be Agent Langston. Her gaze caught on a slight metallic reflection
on the table next to the bed.
    Keys.
    Okay,
change of plan. Apparently, she was adaptable. Forget the mirror, she had keys.
Keys that would get her inside the car outside and take her far away from this
man who’d hunted her, seemed to know way too much about her misdeeds, and wanted
to put her in jail.
    Clarissa
stood very still, barely breathing, just listening. She could hear Langston
breathing too, slow and deep. Her steps on the thick carpet were silent as she
reached for the keys, her fingers brushing the cold metal.
    A
hand clamped down like a vice on her wrist. Clarissa cried out in surprise, the
metal keys pressing sharply into the palm of her hand as she reflexively
clenched them.
    “Going
somewhere?”
    The
cop’s icy voice sent a shiver of alarm up Clarissa’s spine. She fought for
nonchalance as she said, “The thought crossed my mind.”
    Keeping
a tight grip on her arm, Agent Langston reached out and flipped on the bedside
lamp. Clarissa blinked in the sudden glow, though it wasn’t very bright.
    Despite
her attempts to resist him, Agent Langston turned her hand palm up and pried
the keys from her grip.
    “Not
going to happen,” he said, pushing the keys into the pocket of his jeans.
    Clarissa
swallowed hard. Agent Langston had taken off his shirt to go to bed, and the
light from the lamp revealed a broad expanse of male skin. The muscles in his
chest and arms were flexed as he held her captive.
    It
really was too bad he was a cop, Clarissa thought.
    “You
can’t blame a girl for trying,” she said sweetly, pulling at her arm until he
released her. She rubbed her wrist, not that it hurt, but for something to do
so she wouldn’t stare at him. Her heart was racing so fast she was sure he
could hear it, though she hoped he attributed it to her botched escape attempt
rather than him.
    How
absurd, her reaction to him. You’d think she’d never had a boyfriend before.
    Had
she?
    The
thought sobered her. She had bigger problems than a sexy, half-naked FBI man.
    “Looks
like we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” Agent Langston said.
    Clarissa
watched with too much nonprofessional interest as he got up and grabbed
something off the bureau. When he turned around, her eyebrows shot upward.
    “Oh
no,” she said, backing away. “You are not going to use those.”
    Agent
Langston opened the metal handcuffs with a quick flick of his wrist. “You don’t
leave me much choice.”
    “I
swear I’ll be good,” Clarissa offered. “I won’t try to escape.”
    “You’re
right. You won’t.”
    He
had her cornered now.
    “Wait!”
she said.
    He
paused.
    “I
have to…you know…” She jerked her head toward the bathroom.
    “Fine,”
Langston said. “You’ve got five minutes. Don’t make me come in after you.”
    Clarissa
disappeared into the bathroom, flicking on the light before closing the door. It
was a windowless room; no help there. Turning on the faucet to cover any noise
she made, she began searching.
    “Time’s
up,” Langston called through the door a short time later.
    Clarissa
briefly contemplated putting up a fight, but he was a lot bigger than she was and
she’d probably end up being the one hurt. She decided to bide her time. The
more she cooperated, the more off guard he would become, the easier it would be
to escape. She opened the door.
    Langston
was waiting, cuffs in hand. The cold metal locked around her wrist. She looked
up at him, but he was looking down, concentrating on making sure the handcuff
was secure. He was so close she could see the thickness of his eyelashes and
catch the scent of his skin.
    It
wasn’t a bad smell at all. In fact, she rather liked it.
    “Come
on,” he said, tugging the cuffs so Clarissa had no choice but to follow him. When
he approached the bed, Clarissa’s