his habit to kidnap young women into kinky love slavery? She shivered with fear until she remembered what she looked like, and then nearly laughed out loud. Some love slave she’d make. She hadn’t seen a bottle of shampoo in well over a week, and her carefully manicured nails had broken off days ago. Chewing on her lip, she wished she at least had a tube of lipstick. Then she rolled her eyes, wondering how much better her grubby face would look with a coat of dewy lilac frost on her lips.
What the heck was she thinking, anyway? She didn’t care if this sexy stranger thought she was pretty or not. No. She was here for one purpose and one purpose only. To get help for Carmen and Helga, and hopefully to gather some research for her project along the way.
He must have felt the intensity of her stare, because Tyler Newroth slowly turned to look at Emily and favored her with one of the sexiest, most genuine, heart-melting smiles that she’d ever seen. And suddenly, for reasons she couldn’t fathom at the moment, Emily knew that they were safe.
She didn’t know how she knew, exactly, but she knew. The same way she felt that this man had desperately needed her help back there at the side of the road. Even after a nightmarish week on the streets of L.A., she was still a sucker for anyone in trouble. But just what kind of trouble was this guy in?
“It won’t be long now.” He kept his voice low, so as not to disturb Helga, who was snoring like a log truck in the back. “We should be there in about ten minutes or so.”
“Your house?”
“Yes.” He grinned sheepishly at her. “It’s kind of a mess, actually. I just moved here from Boston, and I still have a lot of unpacking to do.”
Why he should bother explaining to her that his house was a mess, Emily would never know. A bombed-out room at the Beirut Hotel was preferable to where they’d been sleeping. “Is that why you need my help? To get you settled here in L.A.?” She hoped so. Unpacking was a task she could handle.
“In a way, yes,” Tyler hedged. “I’ll fill you in on all the details as soon as we get home. It really is kind of a long story.”
Much to her mortification, Emily’s stomach chose that moment to growl in cranky protest of its neglect.
“How does pizza sound?” Ty asked.
Once more Emily’s stomach rumbled rudely. “Heavenly.” She sighed.
Picking up his car phone, he hit one of the speed dial buttons and grinned at her. “This is how us bachelors cook.”
Funny how it was so easy for him to take life’s little conveniences for granted. Having spent the last week eating from the occasional can of beans she was able to scrounge up and share with Helga and Carmen, a pizza, ordered from a car phone, made Emily want to weep with joy.
“What do you like?”
“Everything,” she breathed.
He glanced back at Helga. “Probably better get a couple of them, huh?”
Emily nodded happily. “At least.” She knew she could eat one all by herself.
* * *
Shortly after placing his pizza order, Tyler nosed his Mercedes through the gates of the Rolling Heights Estates. Emily’s eyes widened in surprise as he cruised past dozens of opulent mini-mansions nestled into the hills overlooking the magnificent Pacific Ocean.
Looking down at her filthy jeans and shoes, Emily suddenly felt like one of the Beverly Hillbillies after the kinfolk said, “Californy is the place you oughta be.” She began to hum under her breath as the stunning residences of California’s elite rolled by. So they loaded up the Mercedes and they moved to— Wow!
Tyler pushed a button that was clipped to his sun visor and two large iron gates, attached to an impressive brick-and-ironwork fence, swung open to allow them to pass. As he drove down the cobblestone drive and slipped into the portico, the gates slid silently shut behind them.
Manicured box hedges lined the driveway and divided smaller areas off for rose gardens and fountains. The rambling
What the heck was she thinking, anyway? She didn’t care if this sexy stranger thought she was pretty or not. No. She was here for one purpose and one purpose only. To get help for Carmen and Helga, and hopefully to gather some research for her project along the way.
He must have felt the intensity of her stare, because Tyler Newroth slowly turned to look at Emily and favored her with one of the sexiest, most genuine, heart-melting smiles that she’d ever seen. And suddenly, for reasons she couldn’t fathom at the moment, Emily knew that they were safe.
She didn’t know how she knew, exactly, but she knew. The same way she felt that this man had desperately needed her help back there at the side of the road. Even after a nightmarish week on the streets of L.A., she was still a sucker for anyone in trouble. But just what kind of trouble was this guy in?
“It won’t be long now.” He kept his voice low, so as not to disturb Helga, who was snoring like a log truck in the back. “We should be there in about ten minutes or so.”
“Your house?”
“Yes.” He grinned sheepishly at her. “It’s kind of a mess, actually. I just moved here from Boston, and I still have a lot of unpacking to do.”
Why he should bother explaining to her that his house was a mess, Emily would never know. A bombed-out room at the Beirut Hotel was preferable to where they’d been sleeping. “Is that why you need my help? To get you settled here in L.A.?” She hoped so. Unpacking was a task she could handle.
“In a way, yes,” Tyler hedged. “I’ll fill you in on all the details as soon as we get home. It really is kind of a long story.”
Much to her mortification, Emily’s stomach chose that moment to growl in cranky protest of its neglect.
“How does pizza sound?” Ty asked.
Once more Emily’s stomach rumbled rudely. “Heavenly.” She sighed.
Picking up his car phone, he hit one of the speed dial buttons and grinned at her. “This is how us bachelors cook.”
Funny how it was so easy for him to take life’s little conveniences for granted. Having spent the last week eating from the occasional can of beans she was able to scrounge up and share with Helga and Carmen, a pizza, ordered from a car phone, made Emily want to weep with joy.
“What do you like?”
“Everything,” she breathed.
He glanced back at Helga. “Probably better get a couple of them, huh?”
Emily nodded happily. “At least.” She knew she could eat one all by herself.
* * *
Shortly after placing his pizza order, Tyler nosed his Mercedes through the gates of the Rolling Heights Estates. Emily’s eyes widened in surprise as he cruised past dozens of opulent mini-mansions nestled into the hills overlooking the magnificent Pacific Ocean.
Looking down at her filthy jeans and shoes, Emily suddenly felt like one of the Beverly Hillbillies after the kinfolk said, “Californy is the place you oughta be.” She began to hum under her breath as the stunning residences of California’s elite rolled by. So they loaded up the Mercedes and they moved to— Wow!
Tyler pushed a button that was clipped to his sun visor and two large iron gates, attached to an impressive brick-and-ironwork fence, swung open to allow them to pass. As he drove down the cobblestone drive and slipped into the portico, the gates slid silently shut behind them.
Manicured box hedges lined the driveway and divided smaller areas off for rose gardens and fountains. The rambling
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