His abductor, however, was nowhere in sight.
So she planned to use him for her own selfish sexual gratification and then take off, did she?
A knot of annoyance tightened in his stomach. He didn’t much appreciate being the object of her wham, bam, thank you, man mentality.
He didn’t much appreciate still being roped up like a calf during branding season, either.
Craning his neck, he took in the ties at his wrists. He’d done more than his fair share of yanking last night, and all he’d managed to do was pull the boas tighter. So he wouldn’t waste any more time with that.
Instead, he studied his bonds, lingering until he found what he thought might be an end piece. From the looks of it, the lengths of tasseled yarn weren’t so much knotted as wound around his wrists and the bedposts, then tied into tight bows.
Twisting his body, arm, and hand-and not all in the same direction-he got two fingers around one of the ends and slowly began to tug.
Slowly.
Slowly.
The end started to move. Mere centimeters at first, but it was coming.
He kept at it, making sure he didn’t rush and lose his grip or end up with tighter bindings than he’d started with. When the first boa loosened and fell from around his wrist, he let his head fall back on the pillow and bit back a shout of success.
Lungs burning from lack of oxygen while he’d held his breath in concentration, he rolled to his other side and yanked the end of that boa until his right wrist sprang free. A second later, his feet were undone and he was off the bed, grabbing for his clothes.
Hopping on one leg and then the other, he jumped into his pants on his way to the door and was tugging his plain black T-shirt over his chest as he hit the hall.
Feet bare and fly still open, he cocked his head to listen for sounds of Jenna. No telling where she was in this big old house, and he didn’t want her springing any more surprises on him. If anything, he intended to spring one or two on her.
When he didn’t hear anything on the second floor, he headed for the stairs, zipping up as he took the steps as quietly as possible one at a time.
As he reached the bottom, he heard someone talking and knew it was Jenna. Her voice was low and intense, coming from around the corner.
Careful not to make a sound, he stopped on the last step and leaned a shoulder against the wall. She was close, probably only a few feet away, even though he couldn’t see her.
He pictured her standing near the dining room table, speaking in hushed tones to… someone. Apparently on the phone, because he hadn’t heard a second voice even though there were plenty of pauses long enough for someone else to fill.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she insisted just above a whisper.
He imagined she was keeping her voice low in hopes of not waking him. Little did she know…
“Ohmigod, it was amazing. I can’t thank you two enough for all your help.”
Silence. Though he suspected-hell, he knew-she was talking to either Ronnie or Grace.
“No, he won’t,” she went on matter-of-factly. “He’ll be furious. I’m kind of hoping I can cut him loose while he’s still asleep and then run off to hide until the coast is clear.”
And now he was sure about something else-she was talking to one of her friends about him. About tying him up and having her wicked way with him. Over and over again.
“But hopefully the deed is done and it won’t matter how angry he is with me.”
Hmph. She should be so lucky. He didn’t appreciate being manipulated, no matter what the reason. Not when she could have just asked him to come over and help her scratch her itch.
That, he thought, really pissed him off…
Wait. What deed?
Wasn’t having sex with him last night “the deed”?
No, that couldn’t be right because she’d said “hopefully the deed was done” and that deed was definitely done. It had been done hard and fast and quite thoroughly. Twice.
So what else could she have hoped to accomplish with her little domination-and-submission routine?
“I don’t know.”
Her voice dropped, and he imagined her chewing the corner of her lower lip the way she always did when she was nervous.
“Don’t those over-the-counter tests say you have to wait seven to ten days or something?”
Gage’s brows knit. Test? What kind of test took seven to ten days?
Jenna sighed. “Start over, I guess. Start dating again, maybe visit one of those icky sperm banks. But I don’t want to think about any of that. I want to stay positive and hope the plan worked. If it does, Gage will kill me when he finds out, but I don’t think I care.”
The last of her words swirled around him, going in one ear and out the other because his internal organs had all stopped functioning at sperm banks.
Son of a bitch.
She hadn’t drugged him and tied him down just to have fabulous, forbidden sex with her ex. She’d drugged him and tied him down to get pregnant.
Son of a bitch! Fucking son of a goddamn bitch.
The one thing she knew he’d never agree to. The biggest cinder block in the wall that had gone up between them and eventually destroyed their marriage.
Fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, he forced himself to breathe evenly and remain perfectly still. If he moved, it would be to whip around the corner, snatch the phone out of her hand, and shake her until her teeth rattled or worse.
It was the “worse” that kept him rooted to the spot. Because he was afraid if he saw her right now, if he laid a finger on her, he might do serious bodily harm. And no matter how furious he was with her-even now, when she’d betrayed his trust and used his own weak, disloyal flesh against him-he would never truly want to hurt her.
But damn, it was tempting. His jaw ached from holding back a roar of outrage.
Just when he thought his head might explode from the pressure building behind his eyes, Jenna’s voice intruded again.
“Yes, I’m sure. If I need anything, I’ll call.” A beat passed. “I think that’s a great idea. I’m sure they’d love to see you, and then I won’t be the only one who got lucky this weekend.”
Her tinkling laughter filled the room and spilled up the stairwell. Normally, he loved to hear her happy. She had one of those laughs that poured over him like warm honey and burrowed under his skin.
This morning, though, it grated, reminding him that she and her friends had concocted a plan to knock him out and knock her up.
She said good-bye and he heard a small beep as she disconnected. He braced himself, expecting her to round the corner and run smack into him, but instead her footsteps moved in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen.
And she was humming. Humming, dammit, happy as a lark at the little scheme she and her friends had concocted and managed to pull off-brilliantly.
God, he felt like a schmuck.
Oh, sure, I’ll come over and fix your dripping sink.
Duh.
Gee, thanks for the cold beer, it really hits the spot.
Der.
You want to fuck like bunnies even though we’ve been divorced for more than a year? Awesome!
Idiot, idiot, idiot!
A fresh wave of anger hit and he pushed away from the wall, intent on finally facing her and letting her have it. He wouldn’t bruise her, he wouldn’t shake her, he wouldn’t toss her through an upstairs window.
But he couldn’t promise not to shout the rafters down around her ears.
Walking softly, he was careful not to alert her to his presence. She was in the kitchen now, still humming as she moved around, running water for coffee, filling a filter with grounds.