LITMIR.BIZ

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“I, um, don’t mean to complain, but…uh…these handcuffs are getting uncomfortable.”

      He didn’t look in the least sympathetic. But after a tense, silent moment, he shifted in his seat, drew a small key from his jeans pocket and reached around her. The heat of his nearness, the surprising appeal of his musky scent, the utterly masculine presence he radiated, clouded her mind with an uncomfortable awareness.

      Yes, indeed, the man was dangerous. Although she loathed him, she understood why her sister had been attracted to him. He was all man. And Kate herself had relatively little experience with the breed. She literally held her breath until the handcuffs swung free of her wrists and he drew his well-muscled body away from her.

      She rubbed her wrists and averted her gaze.

      Mitch settled back in his seat feeling nothing but resentment toward her. She was damn lucky he hadn’t wrung her pretty neck. She’d ripped out his heart by taking Arianne and kept him in agony for six long months…and didn’t seem a damn bit sorry for it, either.

      In fact, he sensed only an odd determination in her—one that he didn’t understand. What was she up to? Something about the way she looked at him, the way she held herself, the tone of her voice, even the words she chose, seemed so…un-Camryn-like.

      He had no doubt the change was deliberate. She was obviously a better actress than he’d realized. Diabolical, even. He had a fairly good guess as to why she’d changed. She’d probably set her sights on a guy who preferred a classier image for his woman than the one she’d been projecting.

      Her long, platinum-streaked blond hair, which she’d usually worn flowing in sexy disarray, had been replaced by a primly braided, dark blond upsweep. That alone was enough to change her image completely. Also missing was the dramatic makeup that had added a wicked allure to her natural beauty. If she was wearing makeup at all, it was minimal. And she wasn’t sporting her usual jewelry—a profusion of bracelets, rings and necklaces, as well as big, dangling earrings. Now she displayed only a single sapphire ring, one demure gold chain and tiny gold studs at her ears.

      Her clothes were another remarkable difference. She’d always favored tight short-shorts, halter tops and high-heeled strappy sandals. When she’d gone out for the evening—which she often had—she’d donned sensational low-cut dresses, usually in red or black. Always sexy, even after the pregnancy had compromised her chorus-girl figure. Now she wore relatively long khaki shorts, a simple sleeveless white blouse and low-heeled sandals.

      Not that she wasn’t still sexy. She was. Maybe more so. But he’d be damned if he’d think about that.

      Disgruntled that he’d even noticed, he watched the passing scenery.

      He couldn’t stop thinking about the changes in her, though. Like the cotton underwear she’d packed in her suitcase instead of her usual see-through lace. Her current lover apparently wanted a woman drastically different from the real Camryn. Poor bastard.

      The deception went much deeper than her clothes or appearance. Even her household had undergone a change. She’d never shown the slightest interest in making their house a home. It had never been more to her than a temporary resting place. The house she now lived in was as cozy and elegant a home as he’d ever seen.

      But then, maybe the house wasn’t hers. Because the investigator had spotted her yesterday—on the Fourth of July—he hadn’t had the chance to discover anything at all about her current activities—whom she lived with, what she owned. Not that any of that information mattered much, now that he had her.

      Mitch assumed the house belonged to the new man in her life. That would explain the house, the furniture, the leather-bound books, the piano. The guy was in for a rude awakening when Camryn’s true colors began to shine through. Which, in time, they would.

      It had taken Mitch himself quite a long while to understand her true character. When they were first married, she’d promised to be a good mother. She quit smoking and drinking for her unborn baby’s sake, and actively tried to win his family’s approval. Though their marriage wasn’t based on love, he’d believed they stood a chance of making their parenthood work. By the fourth month of her pregnancy, though, the novelty of being his wife had worn off, and she’d begun sneaking off to bars and casinos every night in search of new thrills.

      She had him served with divorce papers one month after the baby was born. She’d been ready to move on to greener pastures. Too bad she hadn’t stayed to follow up on the legal details…like whether the divorce had gone through.

      She’d put on quite a show for the court proceedings, especially at the custody hearing. She’d pulled her hair back with a bow, used very little makeup and wore a sweet yellow sundress to court. Fortunately for him, the judge knew her from various local bars and understood a good deal about her true character. Otherwise, he might not have believed Mitch when he’d testified to her negligence with Arianne.

      Camryn was and always would be a self-centered party girl who wanted her kicks regardless of who suffered, including her infant daughter.

      And that brought up more questions about this drastic change in her. If she was aiming to please a man, why had she chosen someone who clearly preferred a more sedate woman? Didn’t sound like Camryn’s idea of fun. Maybe the guy had money. Or…power.

      That was a disturbing thought. Maybe this dramatic change in persona was part of a plan to arm herself with money and power. The poor sap she was involved with would probably meet them in the courtroom with a highpowered attorney and deep pockets full of ready cash. The prospect only strengthened his resolve to get her to Louisiana to face a judge who knew the true story. No amount of money or legal shenanigans would sway Judge Breaux—not when it came to the welfare of a child.

      But what if she convinced the judge that motherhood had changed her into a decent, caring, model parent?

      That had to be the driving force behind the change in her. Anxiety surged through Mitch. He knew Camryn enough to be sure that the differences were only superficial. When she had achieved her ends, she would revert to her old fun-craving, irresponsible, negligent self.

      Why, then, did she still want custody of the baby?

      When she’d discovered she was pregnant, she’d considered it a new adventure. From things she’d told him, he knew she’d envisioned motherhood as one big heart-warming scene from a greeting-card commercial. But reality slowly intruded into that idealized notion, and boredom had set in. She’d been itching to leave Terrebonne Parish for a more exciting place.

      He wasn’t surprised that she’d skipped town, but he hadn’t expected her to take his daughter with her.

      Nothing in her experience could have prepared her for motherhood on her own. She’d had plenty of help with the baby from his family, and after she’d left, he’d believed she would grow tired of the never-ending work and responsibility of caring for Arianne by herself. He’d expected her to send the baby back to him…or, God forbid, abandon her to someone else’s care.

      Neither of those things had happened. This, more than anything, puzzled him. Why did she continue to want Arianne? A baby would only cramp her style and curtail her freedom. She had to have some ulterior motive other than motherly love. He honestly believed Camryn was incapable of such unselfish devotion.

      What was on her mind? Or, more appropriately, up her sleeve?

      It was then, as he sat staring out his passenger window and pondering the question, that he felt an odd little tug at the back pocket of his jeans. He froze in absolute incredulity.

      She was lifting his wallet.

      The idea was too ludicrous to believe. Did she think he wouldn’t notice it missing? Did she intend to take his cash and credit cards?

      Too curious to work up much of an anger, he allowed her to gradually pull the wallet free of his pocket, and through the reflection in the passenger window, watched her slip it into the pocket of her khaki shorts.

      “Um, excuse me, but—” she was speaking to Darryl rather

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