she said, "I win more often than I lose."
"Hmm. What's your average?"
Mariah chewed and swallowed, then grasped her glass of cola. "My average? I'd say at least eighty percent or more."
Jake looked skeptical, then let out a long, low whistle. "Are you a sore loser?"
"Depends."
"On how gracious your opponent is in victory?"
"On whether or not my opponent plays by the rules."
"But the same principle doesn't apply for you, does it?" Jake said. "Working for the Coalition is definitely not playing by the rules. They're a rogue organization. A threat to our government."
"According to you."
"Are you telling me that a smart lady such as yourself actually believes in the Coalition's ultimate goals?"
"I believe in doing my job," Mariah told him, being as truthful as she dared.
"And just what is your job? To brainwash me into working for the Coalition?" When she didn't respond, he went on. "Don't waste your time. All the mind games you have in your repertoire won't work on me."
"I expect you to resist," she told him. "I've done my homework on you, Jake. I know everything there is to know about you."
Jake centered his gaze on her face, studying her closely. "You only think you know everything about me. You know facts. That's all. Height, weight, shoe size. Where I went to college. What I do for a living. Who my biological parents are. But, lady, you don't know me. If you did, you wouldn't even try getting inside my head. I won't let you in."
"Not willingly. But there are methods."
"I'll fight you, every inch of the way."
Yes, of course he would. She knew that about him, too, as she knew all those other facts about his life. He was a strong, stubborn man, who, like she, always played to win. And from what she'd read about him, his average was higher than hers. About ninety-five percent. He bested her by ten to fifteen percent. But this time, she had to win.
What Jake didn't understand—what she couldn't explain to him, at least not yet—was that both their lives depended on her pulling this deal off to perfection. Or at least as near to perfection as humanly possible.
"Why don't we just enjoy our meal together," Mariah suggested. "There's no need to discuss unpleasant matters tonight. I want you to rest, relax and try not to worry." Damn, Mariah, what an asinine thing to say to the man. He's been beaten, kidnapped, is being held captive and expects you to try to brainwash him.
Jake chuckled. "Just what are you willing to do to help me relax tonight?"
Damn man! He was as bad as Lester with his sexual innuendoes. Yeah, but there was one major difference—no way in hell would she ever fantasize about Lester making love to her.
"I'd be happy to give you a sleeping pill or—"
Jake laughed out loud.
Mariah hadn't blushed in at least ten years, but heaven help her, she felt the heat of embarrassment warming her cheeks. "You men are all alike. Take your mind out of the gutter, Mr. Ingram."
"Your mind must have been in the gutter, too," he told her. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have known why I was laughing."
Mariah stood, pushed the chair back into the corner, then walked toward the door. "I'll check on your clothes. They should be dry soon. Why don't you finish your supper while I'm gone."
"Say good-night to Lester and Burgess for me, will you? Tell them to sleep tight and not let the bedbugs bite."
Mariah huffed. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a very warped sense of humor?"
Before he could reply, she escaped. Her plan to stay upstairs as long as possible this evening went up in smoke.
But she was running scared—away from Jake Ingram. Fending off Lester's unwanted advances was a piece of cake compared to indulging in sexual repartee with her captive.
ABC Amber Text Converter Trial v ersion, http://www.processtext.com/abctxt.html
***
Jake ate hungrily, finishing his sandwich and chips in a couple of minutes. As he toyed with one of the shortbread cookies, he thought about escaping. Not tonight. But
"Hmm. What's your average?"
Mariah chewed and swallowed, then grasped her glass of cola. "My average? I'd say at least eighty percent or more."
Jake looked skeptical, then let out a long, low whistle. "Are you a sore loser?"
"Depends."
"On how gracious your opponent is in victory?"
"On whether or not my opponent plays by the rules."
"But the same principle doesn't apply for you, does it?" Jake said. "Working for the Coalition is definitely not playing by the rules. They're a rogue organization. A threat to our government."
"According to you."
"Are you telling me that a smart lady such as yourself actually believes in the Coalition's ultimate goals?"
"I believe in doing my job," Mariah told him, being as truthful as she dared.
"And just what is your job? To brainwash me into working for the Coalition?" When she didn't respond, he went on. "Don't waste your time. All the mind games you have in your repertoire won't work on me."
"I expect you to resist," she told him. "I've done my homework on you, Jake. I know everything there is to know about you."
Jake centered his gaze on her face, studying her closely. "You only think you know everything about me. You know facts. That's all. Height, weight, shoe size. Where I went to college. What I do for a living. Who my biological parents are. But, lady, you don't know me. If you did, you wouldn't even try getting inside my head. I won't let you in."
"Not willingly. But there are methods."
"I'll fight you, every inch of the way."
Yes, of course he would. She knew that about him, too, as she knew all those other facts about his life. He was a strong, stubborn man, who, like she, always played to win. And from what she'd read about him, his average was higher than hers. About ninety-five percent. He bested her by ten to fifteen percent. But this time, she had to win.
What Jake didn't understand—what she couldn't explain to him, at least not yet—was that both their lives depended on her pulling this deal off to perfection. Or at least as near to perfection as humanly possible.
"Why don't we just enjoy our meal together," Mariah suggested. "There's no need to discuss unpleasant matters tonight. I want you to rest, relax and try not to worry." Damn, Mariah, what an asinine thing to say to the man. He's been beaten, kidnapped, is being held captive and expects you to try to brainwash him.
Jake chuckled. "Just what are you willing to do to help me relax tonight?"
Damn man! He was as bad as Lester with his sexual innuendoes. Yeah, but there was one major difference—no way in hell would she ever fantasize about Lester making love to her.
"I'd be happy to give you a sleeping pill or—"
Jake laughed out loud.
Mariah hadn't blushed in at least ten years, but heaven help her, she felt the heat of embarrassment warming her cheeks. "You men are all alike. Take your mind out of the gutter, Mr. Ingram."
"Your mind must have been in the gutter, too," he told her. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have known why I was laughing."
Mariah stood, pushed the chair back into the corner, then walked toward the door. "I'll check on your clothes. They should be dry soon. Why don't you finish your supper while I'm gone."
"Say good-night to Lester and Burgess for me, will you? Tell them to sleep tight and not let the bedbugs bite."
Mariah huffed. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a very warped sense of humor?"
Before he could reply, she escaped. Her plan to stay upstairs as long as possible this evening went up in smoke.
But she was running scared—away from Jake Ingram. Fending off Lester's unwanted advances was a piece of cake compared to indulging in sexual repartee with her captive.
ABC Amber Text Converter Trial v ersion, http://www.processtext.com/abctxt.html
***
Jake ate hungrily, finishing his sandwich and chips in a couple of minutes. As he toyed with one of the shortbread cookies, he thought about escaping. Not tonight. But
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