Hot for His Hostage Read Online Free PDF Page A

driver to the Hilton, what plans did he have for the three of them after
     he got them to the room? Images blared to mind of tomorrow’s headlines, relaying the
     news that she, El, and Brynn had been beaten to death by an unknown attacker…
    She shook her head free of the melodrama. Resolve time. She simply wouldn’t let him
     get past the lobby elevators.
    For the time being, he offered a true favor. El was down for the count, Brynn still
     more than a bit blasted. Handling them by herself really would have been a bitch.
     The ride was only four blocks, and—
    Every inch of it was going to be hell. In all the most tantalizing, torturous ways.
    Zoe realized it the second Burnett slid into the car and closed the door. Even after
     he unloaded El, letting her head slide down into Zoe’s lap, he seemed to consume the
     taxi’s back seat. With Brynn opting to grab shotgun in front, Zoe found herself the
     sole object of the man’s concentration, a focus he drilled into her without mercy.
     Or apology.
    The car’s confines seemed to shrink more. She breathed deep, battling to calm her
     racing nerves, but wound up drenching her senses with his scent, instead. Earthy strength,
     woodsy spice. An escape to the forest in the middle of Century Boulevard. Wow .
    Time for Plan B. But returning the man’s stare with a scrutiny of her own was another
     failure. Why did he keep studying her like the rest of the world didn’t exist? The
     neon signs of the airport district whizzed by— Girls on Fire, Strip-A-Rama, Boobalicious Beauties —but the temptations could have been dust mites for how weakly they dragged his attention
     from her.
    Ohhh, God.
    Wait .
    Maybe he was gay.
    The possibility was such a relief, she smiled for a second. That was all the time
     he gave her to enjoy the feeling. As he extended his arm along the top of the seat
     then dropped two fingers to her nape, the inquiry on his face intensified. He added
     a third finger to the pressure, his gaze again a wordless query, seeming to question
     whether she’d welcome him or shirk him.
    Before she could help it, a long sigh spilled from her lips.
    Burnett’s alluring mouth parted a little. His jaw undulated in quiet assessment, flashing
     with a small tic of muscle.
    Her whole body zinged with awareness.
    Crap.
    Not gay.
    She scrambled for logical argument. This was insane. Unreal. Serendipity that only
     happened in movies, to people who had perfect lives and all the right lines pre-written
     for them. Not someone like her, who’d made a desastre of her last “relationship” and now must have a tattoo on her forehead, visible to
     men only. Hit on me; I haven’t had sex in almost a year. People who could summon a drop of moisture to their mouths instead of letting their
     tongue turn to cotton from the simple press of a man’s fingertips.
    “You’re tense.”
    He murmured it between a couple of El’s snores. Wait. That wasn’t El. It was Brynn,
     who slumped against the window like she’d pricked her finger on the same enchanted
     spinning wheel as Ellie.
    Great .
    She pulled in another breath. And was hit by another arousing wave of his fresh forest
     smell. Vaya , it was nice. Why did a guy in a designer suit smell like he’d just stepped off an
     alpine hiking trail? Further, why did she sense he’d ditch the suit for the trail
     in a second? With that jaw, that hair, and those eyes, he was stunning enough to fill
     one of the Rolex watch ads on the billboards overhead, yet claimed he was in the airport
     for “business.” Now he was stuck in a dingy city cab, in the middle of a freak LA
     fog bank, with two women who might rouse from their drunk stupors any second just
     to barf on him—and a third who’d gone dizzy from the effort of resisting his smoke-dark
     stare.
    She finally managed to answer, “And you, Mr. Burnett, are nearly a stranger.”
    One corner of his mouth lifted. “A nice one” —he trailed his fingers up the back of