Captive at Christmas (4 page)

Not that he had many visitors.

He honestly didn’t see a damned thing wrong with Hannah and it annoyed him that she had such a terrible view of herself. If the situation allowed for it, he might have pursued a physical relationship with her. His body certainly seemed to respond to her, hell even now while she bustled around the kitchen, Mac was glad of the counter in front of him. If only he thought to bring a pair of sweatpants, he might be more comfortable.

“Did you decide which meat you’d like on your sandwich or should I put a little of each on?” Hannah turned to face him, waiting for the answer.

His eyes were drawn to the delicious curves of her body, curves that he shouldn’t be staring at. “Uh, yeah that sounds fine.”

She continued to prepare their dinner, never forgetting to stir the soup. It smelled heavenly. The last time he enjoyed a home-cooked meal prepared by someone other than himself, Mac was visiting an old friend, Jeff and his wife – over a year ago now.

Usually he just ate a freezer meal or something from a can.

That, or stored up ration packs.

Mac shuddered.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Noting his hesitancy in responding, Hannah went on to say, “Don’t feel obligated to, especially since you might want to remain alert while I enjoy some with a slice of cake while reading in front of the fire.”

Despite the fact that she appeared non-threatening and hadn’t attempted anything – even with the ten inch knife in her hand – Mac forced himself to decline. “I’ll help you eat the cake, but no wine for me.”

“Of course.”

After stirring the soup, she poured herself a glass of his favourite red. Damn, if only he could trust her, let himself relax for a few minutes then he could enjoy it with her. It would take a long time for him to have enough trust to do so and he had a feeling that, if she proved to be as innocent as she appeared, Hannah wouldn’t like the man he was.

They ate in silence, sitting at the island counter on stools. The woman sure knew how to cook and the rolls were amazing. After dinner, he settled himself in the armchair again and checked his phone while she snuggled up under a throw with her book.

No new e-mails regarding Hannah, though he decided to do a quick internet search of her. Mac found the name of her store, a small one in Vancouver, simply called ‘
Magnus Books
’. They’d been in business for over fifty years and the previous owners were Harald and Silje Magnus – most likely her parents.

Then he saw her professional profile on one of those websites that people sign up for to make business connections or search for new jobs. He had to give her some credit. If this was all a ruse, she did one hell of a job to convince people that she wasn’t a threat.

But if she really did turn out to be Hannah Magnus, bookstore owner, the woman had a pretty impressive past.

Graduated high school early, at just sixteen years old, then put herself through a two-year business administrations course at a local college in Vancouver. She worked with charities for soldier’s families and even started up a foundation of her own.

That got his attention.

Mac glanced at her over the top of his phone and saw her buried in that book. He clicked on the link and read the page as it loaded.

Help for Heroes
was less about money and charity as it was about providing support and friendship to families who had a loved one in or retired from the Special Forces.

The Canadian version of the American Marines or Navy SEALs, called JTF – Joint Task Force. Hannah arranged get-togethers, support groups and even therapy for people who lost their spouses or loved ones to the job, as well as the constant training and vanishing acts they needed to perform when called away.

The website listed a few tips for easing the loneliness of being the one left behind as part of their program, and how to react to their loved one when they were at home. Hannah was listed as the author of the article and he couldn’t believe how insightful she was.

Strange; had she been married to someone and had that happen to her?

Mac checked his e-mail once more but found nothing of interest. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned his full attention to the beautiful creature who still sat curled up and reading.

His mind continued to ask the question
who are you, Hannah Magnus?

If she hadn’t come here to kill him, then the woman certainly was a dream come true. Someone who seemed to understand the dangers of taking a job to protect one’s country, on top of everything else she could do.

“John?”

Mac cringed at the name. “Yeah?”

“Would you like some cake?” Hannah closed her book and stretched, raising her arms high above her head.

He groaned silently as she thrust her chest out. The woman had no idea what she did to him. “Cake…yeah, thanks.”

“I take it a glass of wine is still out of the question?”

“Yup.”

She paused, neatly folding the blanket that had been tucked over her lap. He imagined it felt nice and warm. “How about a cup of coffee then? If you’re so suspicious of me, I doubt you’ll be getting much sleep.”

Good idea, he thought, resting his ankle on his knee to hide the straining of fabric in his lap. Damn this woman and her centerfold body. “Uh, yeah, coffee sounds good.” She had him sounding like a mumbling idiot, too.

After offering a little smile, Hannah went into the kitchen. His brain fuzzed around the edges as she made up a specialty coffee for him and cut two large pieces of cake. Mac knew he hadn’t been drugged because he watched everything she did, but it sure felt like it. He wanted to relax in her presence, Mac realized, though it was an unfortunate impossibility.

The vibrating phone in his pocket snapped his mind back to reality and he looked at it to see there was a new e-mail – the one that he’d been waiting for. Opening it up, he scrolled through the information though it told him very little that he didn’t already know.

Parents from Norway, moved to Canada a short while after they got married. Died when she was ten and Hannah had been raised by her brother Erik – now deceased, unsolved hit-and-run.

She never missed paying her taxes, had no debt. Actually, she had quite a large sum in her bank account. She wasn’t kidding when she said she didn’t need any reward money. Of course she didn’t have as much as he did, but people in his line of work tended to receive outrageous bonuses for the services they rendered.

She owned a large house in Vancouver, which struck him as odd. The woman said she needed to get home to find a new place to live. Mac would have to check that out.

“Where would you like it?”

Startled, he snapped his gaze up from the screen to see Hannah standing a foot away, holding a plate with a generous serving of cake and a big mug of caramel-scented coffee. Mac nodded to the table next to his chair and she moved slowly to set them down.

For a moment, it seemed like she might have something to say. Hannah tilted her head to the side, as if collecting her thoughts while she examined him through those deep eyes. Her hands trembled at her sides and she took a deep breath through slightly parted lips.

“You okay?” he asked, wondering what could be going on inside of her head. Was she still afraid of him, or was it something else entirely? Did she sense the strange chemistry, the almost indefinable magnetism that continued to grow between them as well?

“I…well, it’s just …” She inhaled slowly, exhaling at the same pace. “You didn’t watch me making your coffee. I was waiting for you to make me taste it, to prove I didn’t put anything in it.”

Mac cursed and she jumped. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“I wouldn’t though, I just…” Hannah dropped her shoulders. “I wish you weren’t so fearful that I would hurt you or any other human being. And it makes me terribly sad that there are people in the world who would actually consider it.”

Not for the first time since meeting her, Mac sat in his chair, stunned by the kindness of her words while she picked up the mug and took a good, long sip. Only once she returned to the kitchen to retrieve her own plate did he let out the breath that he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.

The fire roared back to life and warmed the small cabin, thanks to John’s handiwork, while Hannah finished washing and drying the dishes. She could hardly believe the hour – well after one in the morning. It had been a very long time since she stayed up this late. John didn’t look tired at all, not until she saw into his eyes. But that could very well be years’ worth of wariness, built up over time to mirror exhaustion.

He barely moved from that chair, even though he had consumed three coffees and two glasses of water. She went to the bathroom so many times that she lost count. Maybe his previous employment required stillness as a necessity. Hannah shuddered at the thought of him hiding somewhere with the scope of a rifle trained on a particular spot where the target would be.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and get ready for bed,” she announced through a yawn.

“Sure.”

Hannah felt his eyes on her as she walked slowly into the bedroom. It was disconcerting at the highest level, having someone distrust her so greatly. Somehow, she knew that, even if she followed all of her own steps with him, John might be the one unreachable person in the world. It caused her eyes to fill up with tears, betraying the emotions she wanted locked deep inside of her while he was around.

From the dresser, she took out an ankle-length nightdress, wanting to feel at least a little bit feminine. When she closed the drawer and stood up, Hannah jumped back and pressed her hand to her chest. John was in the doorway, arms crossed and leaning on the frame as he watched her. Heart thundering beneath her fingers, she stared at him and held her breath like a deer that had just been spotted by the hunter.

“You okay?”

Hannah nodded, still too surprised to move. The backs of her legs were against the bed and she sat down, her knees screaming thanks for the relief. Her heart kept on pounding as he straightened up and closed the gap between them. “You startled me,” she admitted in a whisper, craning her neck to see into his face.

“Apologies.”

Dizzy, she closed her eyes and sighed.

No, not dizzy she realized, but drunk and exhausted. “I think– no, I
know
that I had too much wine,” Hannah admitted. “I don’t usually drink, at least, no more than a glass or two. I can’t believe I had the whole bottle.”

The bed gently bowed and she assumed that he sat down beside her. Hannah turned and opened her eyes. John continued to observe her with those icy-grey eyes – hunter’s eyes, the only way she could properly describe them.

Dark and enigmatic yet bright and spirited at the same time. She hated to admit it, but Hannah almost wondered what he thought of her as he gazed at her through them.

Dangerous territory, she reminded herself. Here was a man who, by all accounts, was her exact opposite. Incredibly sexual – she could tell that simply from the way he moved – powerful and cagey. A man who would be forever plagued by the demons of his past. Whereas she could be defined as an open book. Hannah always wore her heart on her sleeve. People knew where they stood with her because she let them know.

With John, she didn’t have a clue where she stood, other than the obvious dynamic of their relationship. Captor and captive. No doubt about it, this was going to be the most trying two weeks of her life.

Hannah forced herself up and slipped into the bathroom. She knew John stood on the other side of the door, listening to every sound. First, she brushed her teeth and washed her face and then stripped out of her clothes and pulled the nightdress on. Within minutes, she finished getting ready for bed and excused herself from the room, taking one of the pillows with her.

“Hannah.”

She paused, willing the pounding in her chest to cease as she turned around. John hesitated in the doorway. Gone were the dark, daunting eyes and in their place she saw loneliness. Deep and unsettling, his gaze ripped through her heart and tore at her soul, begging and pleading for something – though she couldn’t guess at what. “Yes?”

“Thank you for dinner.”