An Act of Love (7 page)

The minutes dragged on. The man went back to flying the
plane, and there was nothing to do but watch the ground. The cities and
towns of what Randy assumed was Massachusetts slowly gave way to
rolling countryside covered with evergreen and broadleaf trees. Randy
decided that when they landed she would run up to the first person she
saw at the airport and beg for help. She replayed this scene over and
over in her mind, refining it until she'd convinced herself that she
would succeed in getting away.

More than an hour later he finally looked at her again.
"Get your seat belt back on," he said. "We're landing."

Randy buckled it up and stared out the window. She saw no
airport, only a large field surrounded by wooded hills. He circled,
landing the plane quite smoothly despite the absence of a paved strip.

She had a million questions but asked none of them. She
checked her watch—it was just past six o'clock. The man
handed her Linda's purse and two suitcases, one of them Linda's, the
second presumably his own, and told her to get out of the plane. There
was nothing to do but obey. He followed a moment later, carrying a
large carton of groceries.

Their destination was a small cabin, invisible from the
air because it was set back into the woods. A metal shed stood adjacent
to it. As the man led her inside the unlocked wooden building Randy
nervously inspected the interior. It wasn't the Ritz, but it was hardly
a shack, either.

The plank floor was covered by several hooked rugs; an
old-fashioned couch and two overstuffed chairs surrounded a maple
coffee table and faced a fireplace, where someone had laid a fire. An
alcove at the right rear half of the cabin housed a simple kitchen,
with a table and four chairs nearby. Several doors opened off the
living room, but they were closed. Randy devoutly hoped that at least
two of the three led to bedrooms.

The man noticed her looking toward the left, at the closed
doors, but made no comment. Amazingly, now that they were inside and it
appeared that she wouldn't be locked in some ghastly underground
chamber, she was much less frightened.

The feeling didn't last. The moment he told her to sit
down on the couch her heart began to pound heavily and she started to
feel a little sick. She watched warily as he lit the fire, then sat
down uncomfortably close to her on the couch. She didn't suppose it
mattered to him whether he'd grabbed Linda Franck or Miranda Dunne, but
she felt that she had to make the effort to identify herself.

"I'm not Linda Franck," she said, concentrating on the
hands that were clenched together tightly in her lap. "I'm her sister
Randy."

"Really." Plainly he didn't believe her. "Tell me, what
happened to Linda?"

Randy tried to sound confident and convincing. "She left
this morning with a friend on a trip up the coast. I've been visiting
for the last week or so, keeping her company and helping her with her
apartment."

"I see. Does she always leave her purse sitting on the bed
when she goes out of town? With her driver's license and credit cards
inside?"

Randy shook her head, admitting to herself that the
explanation would sound implausible. Nonetheless she continued, "Lin's
kind of sloppy. She was in a hurry to leave and when she changed purses
she just dumped everything onto the floor and took what she wanted. She
must have forgotten the credit card case."

The man shot her a skeptical look. "I had a look around
when I changed your clothing and packed up. I didn't see any indication
that anyone else was around. But I'll accept what you say if you can
enlighten me on a few points."

Randy sensed that he was toying with her, not viciously
perhaps, but not without a certain pleasure, either. She nodded.

"First," he said, "there's the car. Bill Dunne's blue
Lincoln. I didn't see it parked on the street."

"The air conditioning broke down," Randy explained. "I
took it in to be repaired and arranged to leave it at the service
station till I was ready to leave Cambridge."

Randy couldn't tell whether or not he accepted her
story—his expression was poker-faced. "Second, the fact that
Randy is in New Hampshire," he went on.

He seemed to know a lot about her family, but maybe that
wasn't surprising if he made a habit of this sort of thing. Naturally
he'd take the time to check out his targets. "She never—I
mean,
I
never went." Randy could have kicked
herself for the slip. The man had her thinking about herself in the
third person by now. "I decided to stay with Linda for a while instead."

"So you told me." He was allowing his disbelief to show
again, but the smile on his face bespoke enjoyment, not cynicism. "And
did you go on a crash diet, also? Maybe
we've
never met, Linda, but I
have
seen your sister on
television. You look very much alike, but she's obviously quite a bit
younger. She's also about thirty pounds heavier."

That blasted diaper commercial
, Randy
thought, defeated.
Blimp city
. It was pointless
to spin stories about nonexistent movie roles or deliver urgent
explanations about unhappy love affairs if the man had seen that
commercial. When taken together with everything else the fact that
she'd lost weight would seem totally unbelievable. In truth, of course,
it made absolutely no difference.

"Okay," she sighed. "What happens now?" The question
reminded her that despite his occasional smiles the man was a
professional criminal. "Do you want me to write a note to my father?"

He put his feet up on the coffee table and lazed against
the back of the couch. "I haven't kidnapped you for money, Linda. I
have much more interesting plans for you than that." He was looking at
her through half-lidded eyes, still smiling.

Randy had been focusing exclusively on the idea of
kidnapping, but no one but an innocent girl could have failed to
understand what he meant. She felt as though she was caught in a
nightmare. Why was this happening to her?

The man twisted sideways on the couch and reached out to
touch her cheek. Randy went rigid, afraid to fight him after what had
happened on the plane, but momentarily too frightened to move. She
could only stare into the fire and try not to panic.

He stroked her hair and then dropped his hand. "What's the
matter?" he murmured. "Don't I appeal to you as much as all the other
lovers you've had? Because you certainly appeal to me."

Randy couldn't manage an answer. She saw the man move away
out of the corner of her eye, but felt very little relief that he'd
decided to leave her alone. She knew it was only temporary.

"I'll lay out the ground rules for you," he said. "For the
next few days, or week, or maybe longer, you're going to do exactly
what I tell you to. You're as spoiled and selfish as you are beautiful,
Linda, and it's about time someone did something about it. Just keep in
mind that I'm not one of the ex-husbands or lovers who you've wrapped
around your little finger all your life and we'll do fine together."

Randy darted him a confused glance, trying to make sense
of what he'd said. Was revenge the man's motive, rather than money? If
so, she had to make him believe that she wasn't her sister.

She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, trying to relax
enough to sound convincing. "You're not entirely wrong about my
sister—she can be impossible when it comes to men. But she's
also loving and caring and a lot of fun. It's not just her looks that
attracts them."

As soon as she finished this speech she realized that the
man was seriously irritated with her. "You tell the most creative lies
of any woman I've ever met," he said, "but credit me with at least a
minimal IQ. I'm tired of the 'I'm not Linda' routine, so drop it. You
can start work by unpacking the two suitcases and the carton of
groceries. I'm going outside to crank up the generator and then into
the bedroom to lie down for a few minutes."

Randy followed his progress with her eyes as he got up and
walked to the door. The tasks he'd assigned weren't at all onerous,
although she supposed that Linda might have thought so. She tried to
imagine her sister's probable reaction and decided that Lin would
either have spit fire and fury or else laughed her head off, then
promptly tried to seduce the man. The situation was so incredibly
absurd that Randy refused to believe that the man wouldn't figure out
she was telling the truth and return her to Cambridge. All she wanted
to do was forget the incident. The reference to ex-husbands and lovers
told her that he was connected in some way to someone in one of those
two categories, perhaps to Linda's ex-husband Brett. Brett had taken
the divorce very hard.

At the moment, however, there was no point in refusing to
do as she was told. She opened each of the doors off the living room in
turn, discovering a bathroom and then two bedrooms. One had twin beds,
the other a double, so she carried her suitcase into the first and the
man's suitcase into the second.

When she started to unpack she noticed that most of the
clothing he'd taken was Linda's. Ordinarily Randy couldn't wear her
sister's clothes, but she'd lost so much weight that she'd dropped a
few sizes. The man had taken all the necessities, including her own
flannel nightgown, which Linda wouldn't have been caught dead in. Her
sister's tastes ran more to silk and lace.

Randy also noticed that he'd folded each garment quite
neatly, as though he'd had all the time in the world. If nothing else
she had to admire the fellow's audacity. She found herself thinking
that it was a thorough shame he
hadn't
snatched
her sister. The two of them would have made an interesting pair.

As for herself, it was peaceful here, though she wondered
where in God's green earth they were, and she had no objection to a
little work. After putting everything away she made her way next door.
The man was sprawled diagonally on the bed, apparently fast asleep.
Randy had gone flying with a cousin a few times and he'd taught her a
little bit about how to pilot a plane. Although she wasn't fool enough
to try to take off she could at least use the radio to call for help.
For a few moments she stood there, indecisive, and then casually
strolled out of the room and out of the cabin. Once outside, however,
she broke into a brisk run. She was only a few yards from the aircraft
when she was hit from behind by a flying tackle that sent her tumbling
to the ground. The man landed beside her.

The next instant she was flat on her back, pinned beneath
his body. She was winded, but at least he was keeping most of his
substantial weight on his elbows. She tried a sheepish smile. "You
can't blame me for trying," she said.

The way he was looking at her put an end to her attempt at
humor. His eyes were moodily intent, as though he couldn't decide
whether to chew her out or make love to her. Randy wasn't frightened
that he would hurt her, but she
was
annoyed that
he'd put an end to her escape attempt. She tried to wriggle away,
failed completely and promptly ordered him to let her go-He shook his
head. "I don't think so."

She didn't waste her time arguing. Instead she relaxed for
a few moments, hoping to catch him off-guard, and then started to fight
him in earnest. But he simply caught at her wrists and forced them up
over her head, holding them with a single, firm hand.

Breathing hard now, Randy stared up at him. He didn't look
at all angry anymore, only aroused. She could feel his hard contours
pressing against her body and was shocked at her awakening response to
him. His eyes dropped to her mouth for several long seconds, and then
he eased himself against her, obviously intending to kiss her.

Randy quickly turned her head to the side, confused by the
rush of heat that suddenly shimmered through her, but the man simply
released her wrists and started to nuzzle her neck. His lips were firm,
cool and gentle on her skin. Randy didn't want to respond, but his
murmured, "You're beautiful," had an alarming effect on her common
sense.

His hand feathered lightly up her side, trailing fire
through her thighs, her stomach and then her breasts. When he stretched
over to reach her mouth and began to nibble at her lower lip she closed
her eyes and thought to herself that the situation was impossible. She
didn't even know his name, so why was her body aching this way?

The longer he played with her mouth the lower her defenses
dropped. Ultimately she abandoned her efforts at resistance, gave a
little moan of concession and allowed her lips to part.

She'd dated more than one actor acclaimed for his
on-screen technique, but nothing had prepared her for this man's expert
conquest of her mouth. He alternated deep, satisfying kisses with
tantalizing nips and caresses, so that each time he withdrew to tease
her she became more excited and submissive, more eager for him to take
her mouth again. Her arms found their way around his neck and she
arched her body to meet his demanding movements, too aroused to stop
him when his hand wandered underneath her blouse to stroke a swollen
breast.

When he slowly pulled away Randy could only stare up at
him, at first confused that he'd stopped, and then embarrassed by the
wildness of her own response. His breathing was far more regular than
her own, his expression much calmer. "The ground isn't very
comfortable," he said with a complacent smile. "If you ask me nicely
I'll take you inside to bed now."

Randy was mortified. Hadn't she learned
anything
from Sean Raley? She felt cheap and used and thoroughly disgusted with
herself. The man rolled off her, waiting for her answer, but she
maintained a tight-lipped silence and started to get up.

"Oh no you don't," he said, pulling her firmly down again.
"You aren't ready to ask me yet, is that it?"