The Hostage Bride Read Online Free PDF

advance warning of a knock and a puzzled-looking Harold Stein stepped in. “Where is everyone, Miss James?”
    “Out to lunch.” She dipped the plastic spoon into the yogurt and had started to carry it to her mouth when she looked up. Her gaze encountered a pair of lazy green eyes belonging to the tall, broad-shouldered man framed in her open doorway. A glint of satisfaction was in his level regard, while a hint of a smile softened the firmness of his mouth. Her breath was squeezed from her lungs as Tamara slowly lowered the spoon back to the yogurt and tried not to act at all surprised to see the bold stranger again.
    Harold Stein was looking at his watch with dismay. “I didn’t realize what time it was. I suppose you’d like to go to lunch?” He frowned at the man behind him in a somewhat absent fashion.
    “I think
Miss James
has the right idea.” The man stressed her name in a silent message that said he had learned it despite her previous unwillingness to provide him with it. “Why don’t we have some sandwiches and coffee brought in? Is that all right with you, Adam?” He half-glanced over his shoulder and Tamara noticed the coat sleeve of someone behind him.
    “Whatever suits you is fine with me,” the unseen man replied indifferently.
    “Would you want to go back to my office?” Harold Stein suggested. “I can have Danby telephone the local deli for sandwiches.”
    “This is our next stop, isn’t it?”
    “Yes.” Harold nodded as if uncertain of the significance of that fact.
    Even before that question Tamara had put two and two together. She was certain that her calculation was correct. The two men with her employer were obviously the executives from Taylor Business Machines. Her palms became sweaty and her throat was dry. She knew her heart was not beating at its normal rate.
    “Then we might as well lunch here,” the man announced, and swung his unnervingly steady gaze back to her, “unless Miss James has some objection.”
    “None.” That counted anyway. She rose from her chair to walk around her desk. “We’ll need another chair,” Tamara murmured in explanation of her abrupt movement. There were only two besides her own chair in the room, one in front of her desk and a straight-backed chair in the far corner.
    “Adam will bring one,” the man stated, taking charge as if from habit and turning to give the order. “Bring one of the chairs from out there when you come in.”
    “I haven’t introduced you,” Harold realized with a guilty start. “Miss James, this is Bickford Taylor Rutledge, president of Taylor Business Machines and your new employer. This is Miss James, who handles all the accounting and such.” With that duty completed, he moved from between them to walk to Tamara’s desk telephone. “I’ll order those sandwiches.”
    Tamara would have preferred to simply acknowledge the introduction with a nod, butBickford Taylor Rutledge, the top man himself, was already extending his hand to her. She had little choice but to accept the polite courtesy.
    “How do you do, sir,” she murmured stiffly.
    No matter how “malely” interested his expression was, Tamara couldn’t visualize herself telling this man that she had borrowed twenty thousand dollars of company funds without permission and would return it as soon as her mother died. If he had been someone like Harold Stein or his brother, Art, she might have been able to confide in him. But there was a relentless quality about this Bickford Rutledge. He wasn’t a forgiving man.
    “When Harold was singing your praises, he neglected to mention how extraordinarily beautiful you are, Miss James.” The compliment rolled smoothly off his tongue. It wasn’t an attempt to flatter, but to reinforce the message of personal interest his eyes were conveying.
    “Thank you.” Tamara struggled to maintain a degree of aloofness. When she tried to withdraw her hand from his firm grip, he continued to hold it. But her attempt drew