Captive Heart Read Online Free PDF

until Del Toro sees her. Quite a contrast from the pigtailed girl in the jumpsuit!
    They walked down the long hall, arm in arm, certainly a contrasting "odd couple," JoNell in her sophisticated black chiffon party dress and high heels, and Uncle Edgar ambling along in his wrinkled, out-of-style suit that was a good inch short of covering his bony wrists.
    "I'll be leaving early in the morning," he told her. "Miguel is driving me to the airport. Do you want to come along to see me off?"
    She squeezed his arm affectionately. "You know I wouldn't miss it."
    They descended the stairs and turned down the hallway to large double doors. "This must be the dining room," JoNell concluded, hearing voices. Uncle Edgar opened the doors.
    A hush fell over the room. JoNell was surprised to see fifteen or twenty people standing to the left of a long dining table which was situated under a massive glass chandelier. She had expected a small dinner with just Del Toro and perhaps one of his lady friends. Invisible mice nibbled nervously at her stomach.
    Some forty pairs of eyes swung in her direction. For a moment, a feeling of panic touched her. But her nervousness eased when Del Toro moved away from the others to greet them.
    "I hope we're not late," JoNell apologized in Spanish. She stood tall, her neck arched like a proud swan. Large brown eyes searched steely green eyes for a reaction. Fire bit JoNell's cheeks as she saw amusement dance across Del Toro's perfect features. Mixed with the amusement was a curious glint in his eyes.
    A strong, masculine hand reached for her fingers. Momentarily, JoNell was electrified by the sight of Del Toro, with his nostrils flaring, his hard green eyes sending shivers down her spine. He looked absolutely devastating in his immaculately tailored black dinner jacket set off with one bright red rose in the lapel. No wonder he was a lady killer! He might be a complete wash-out in the personality department, but those devilishly good looks would set any woman's heart aflutter. As impervious as JoNell felt herself to be to his artificial charms, she felt uneasy about spending much time in the presence of such a dashing man. But then she remembered his rude, supercilious manners and assured herself that any advances from him would be easy to rebuff, regardless of his good looks.
    "Your timing is perfect," Del Toro assured her in English with a sweeping bow.
    His large hand lifted her delicate one to his lips. JoNell's flesh stung where he planted a lingering kiss on the back of her fingers. Oh, I get it, she thought; Mr. Personality saves all of his charm for public displays. She remembered how brusque he had been with her at the airport, how perfunctory his manners had been there. But now he had an audience. What a hypocrite, she thought!
    Del Toro, the perfect, suave host, moved toward the dinner table. His firm hand gripped JoNell's left elbow. "You look stunning," he said huskily.
    "Like a woman?" JoNell demanded her victory. "Not a 'mere girl'?"
    "Very definitely like a woman," Del Toro conceded.
    The upward thrust of JoNell's tapered chin signaled triumph. But the hard squeeze of Del Toro's fingers biting into the soft flesh of her arm unnerved her. Had she overplayed her hand? She was definitely not throwing herself into the ring to be one of Del Toro's playthings, to be toyed with, then made to suffer after she had lost the battle. Her only purpose was to make Del Toro take her seriously.
    "You are to sit next to me," Del Toro commanded. He led JoNell to her chair, pulled it out for her and waited until she was seated. The other guests were sitting around the long table. Uncle Edgar was relegated to a place near the far end of the table. JoNell's concern for her uncle was relieved when she saw his "almost-smile" as he chatted with a guest who obviously spoke English.
    JoNell found herself seated across the table from a petite, demure young woman in her early twenties. Her simple but elegantly styled gown