Free Return to Me by Christy Reece Page A

She’d been slow before, but never this slow. The man wanted her. Despite his warnings, his attempts to put the blame on her, there had been desire on his face.
    Drawing a brush through her hair, she smiled at her reflection. Her day was definitely looking up.
    She returned to the living room to find the spilled coffee cleaned up and Noah in the kitchen. She eased in, wanting to gauge his mood before she said anything. The man was volatile, outrageous, and unpredictable. Definitely not an easy person to know or like. So why couldn’t she stop smiling?
    Noah stood at the stove, scrambling eggs. He shot a brief look over his shoulder. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”
    Samara poured two cups of coffee and sat them on the table. “Need any help?”
    “No.”
    Okay, fine with her. Deciding he could wait on her and she wouldn’t mind in the least, Samara sat at the table and waited for breakfast to be served.
    Noah slid a plate filled with eggs, toast, and bacon in front of her. He sat across from her and attacked his food as if it could escape at any moment. His head bent to his meal, tense silence surrounded him.
    Samara ate at a slower, contemplative pace. She was used to men and their vagaries. With five brothers, she could guess almost any mood of a man. Noah was harder to read. It was almost as if he had developed such a talent for subterfuge that showing anything real got locked up faster than lightning. Why couldn’t the man have a real, honest-to-God emotion and show it?
    “You need to learn some self-defense moves.” The grumbling voice jerked her from her Noah analysis.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “You fight like a girl.”
    Instead of addressing his insult, Samara leaned forward and seared him with her eyes. “Let me ask you a question. Do you even know how to relate to people?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You kidnap me, tie me up, insult me, accuse me of coming on to you and overexposing my body. Now you tell me I fight like a girl … which by the way, I am, and don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
    His expression revealed nothing but granite impassivity. “So what’s your point?”
    “My point is you work awfully damn hard on pissing me off just to keep me at arm’s length. I’m wondering why.”
    Taking his empty plate and hers, he stood and walked to the sink. “You’ve got a vivid imagination.” Noah turned and gave her what looked to be a genuine smile. “What I told you last night was the truth. You keep giving me the vibes and I don’t want you to think that anything can happen between us. And as far as kidnapping you, if I’d thought you’d listen any other way, I would have done it differently. You’re the one who turned down a talk, not me.”
    Standing, Samara nodded, realizing she would get nowhere with him. He was so far into denial, it probably wasn’t even in his vocabulary.
    “I’ll clean up since you were kind enough to fix breakfast.”
    A small flicker touched his face. Surprise that she’d given in so easily? She hadn’t given in, but had backed off. Having learned long ago that there was nothing wrong with retreat in order to go in a different direction, she’d wait awhile and find another way inside him. Her brothers hadn’t nicknamed her Bulldozer for nothing.
    “When you get through, come on into the living room. I got a couple of responses back. One of them may be our guy.”
    Samara nodded. She might be in a cat-and-mouse game with Noah, but she needed to keep her mind on the real purpose. Saving these girls’ lives. It wasn’t something she planned to forget. Teaching Noah a little lesson in humanity might be a small side benefit, but the most important thing was to rescue the girls and catch the creeps preying on them.
    Since Noah left little to clean, she was seated in front of the computer within minutes of breakfast. He clicked on the three messages and let her read through them.
    “What do you think?”
    “Mmm. Not the Mission Ridge