Free Dangerously Big by Cleo Peitsche Page A

in any event. Not if you’re staying in the hotel here.”
    Trapped. And because I don’t know what Hawthorne’s game is, I smile and go along with it. Really, what chance do I have?
    “I’ll get her checked in,” Hawthorne says as he picks up his suit jacket.  
    The elevator ride to the lobby is awkwardly quiet. When the receptionist slides over the key, Hawthorne scoops it up before my hand is halfway to the counter.
    “What are you doing?” I ask.
    He looks over my head—and I hate that he’s tall enough to do that—and says, “You and I are going to have a little chat.”
    As I follow him to my room, I try to tell myself that I have nothing to worry about. If it were anyone but Hawthorne, I would believe it. And I can’t forget that I owe him $300,000.
    He opens the door and lets me go in first. Soft lights flicker on.
    “Are you horny?” I ask as I wave my hand in the general direction of the bed. “Wanna fuck?”
    His lips curl into a smile, but there’s no humor there. “For a woman who often seems to be channeling a thesaurus, you can be surprisingly crude.”
    “It’s about selecting the most appropriate word for the situation,” I say.  
    “Is it?” He’s got one hand in his pocket, the other scratching at the beige wallpaper.  
    The room itself is nice if not terribly innovative. I find myself wanting to get into bed, turn on the television and order ice cream from room service. Maybe I’ll bring up a photo of Bandit on my phone and pretend to feed him ice cream.
    I miss my cat. He has no expectations, no demands. I have a pretty good idea of what my life will be like by the time I’m sixty, and it includes bulk deliveries of cat food and litter.
    And I’ll still be wearing cleavage-enhancing bras. And dying my hair. And lying to my friends. And hiding from my family.
    I frown. It started as a lovely fantasy, but somewhere along the way it turned pathetic. Maybe that’s because I don’t normally imagine a future more than two weeks down the line. How can I when I don’t know where I’ll be?
    “Last night changed things,” Hawthorne says. “I can no longer ignore how poorly you’re handling whatever’s going on in your life.”
    My temper flares, but I tamp it down. “There’s no need for you to cover for me,” I say.
    He frowns. “I don’t have to. That’s true.”
    “No. You want me gone, and you’ll be thrilled to learn that I’m leaving. Best of all, your conscience will be clear as you don’t even need to blackmail me.”
    His blue eyes lose some of their sparkle. “Is that what you think? That I planned to blackmail you to leave?”
    “That’s what I would do,” I say. I’ve got my arms crossed, and I’m leaning against the bed, my weight on my right foot. Despite the exhaustion tugging at my limbs, I don’t dare relax.
    Hawthorne’s mouth turns down farther. He’s still handsome when he’s scowling, but he’s also frightening.  
    He clears his throat. “You want to run. Has it ever occurred to you to ask for help?”
    “I help myself,” I say. “And anyway, you can’t help me. You won’t.”
    “Do you even know what that would look like?” he asks. His piercing gaze seems to be prying at the edges of my facade.
    “Yes, I do,” I say.
    “And?” he prompts.
    “I need money. So I can disappear. Don’t suppose you’re going to give me some seed money to properly reinvent myself, are you?”
    “And that will solve your problem.”
    “Absolutely.” I smile. “Indubitably.”  
    He doesn’t smile. “I don’t believe that, Lindsay. And deep down, I think you know better, too. Why did that man abduct you?”
    There it is. The direct question that’s surely been tormenting him ever since last night.  
    “If I had money, he never would have located me.”
    Hawthorne laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. “What do you want from me?”
    “Buy me…”
    One of his eyebrows rises.
    “Buy me a new start, a new life,” I challenge