Chapter Four
"You’re crazy," Chynna said breathlessly. She could still feel the kiss on her skin and the area tingled. "I…I can’t do that."
"Then you’ll go to jail."
Trent finally let go of her fingers and she backed a step away.
"Why?" she asked simply. "Why do you want me to do this?"
"Because I’m about to walk into the lion’s den," he told her smoothly. "And it occurs to me I could use a shield."
She shook her head. "I’m afraid I’m not very good at deciphering riddles. Why don’t you just tell me?"
"You’ll figure it out soon enough. But first things first," he added, looking her up and down. "You’ll need to change."
"Sorry," she quipped, tossing her head. "I kind of like me the way I am."
"Your clothes," he explained patiently. "The party is at the Cascade. Your skirt and sweater aren’t dressy enough." Reaching into a closet at the back of his office, he pulled out a dress and held it up for her to see. "What do you think of this? I’ll bet it will fit."
She gasped softly. Turquoise silk as soft as gossamer floated over a royal blue sheath with a snug, beaded bodice. Involuntarily, she reached out to touch i
t. "Oh," she said softly.
"Here. Put it on."
She looked up into his eyes and then her chin lifted rebelliously as she backed away. "I haven’t said I would do it yet," she reminded him.
He sighed. "You’ll look fantastic in this thing and you know it. Certainly it will look better than prison stripes. Come on, Chynna." His mouth twisted cynically. "Be my love."
She flashed him a glare but then bit her lip, thinking. "Tell you what," she said at last. "I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do it if you promise…" She paused. Should she admit what she’d been after? But he probably already had guessed. "If you promise to let me have Melinda’s letters."
His eyes were suddenly flat and expressionless as tinted glass. "You mean the contents of the folder you were reaching for?"
She nodded.
He looked at her quizzically. "There is only one letter in that folder," he said slowly. "And you don’t want to see it. Though I can understand why Melinda might want to get it out of my hands." A wry smile played with the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were cool. "What’s the matter? Doesn’t she trust me?"
Chynna flushed. "She would like to have her letter back. If you were a gentleman…"
"But I’m not, so the question is moot." He shook his head. "Sorry, Chynna. That folder must stay here in my office. And we need to get to the party."
"But…"
"Get dressed, Chynna," he said quietly, touching her cheek with his forefinger, setting off a trail of sensation. "We’re late. And I plan to make quite an entrance."
