ROBIN BAYNE, Romance Author Preview: CHARITY'S PRISONER at The Romance Club www.theromanceclub.com

MonaVie

Drink It ~ Feel It ~ Share It

When Charity Wells finds herself "arrested" as part of a charity drive, the last thing she expects is to be trapped overnight with sexy co-worker Ryan Perry. Will a long night in the dark illuminate any of Ryan's secrets?

" A sweet story of love and healing. Love, hope and Charity. . . Charity's Prisoner has all three!"
--- Holly Fuhrman, author of Miracles For Nick, Imajinn, Sept. ‘01, Do You Hear What I Hear?, Silhouette Romance, Nov. ‘01

"Highly enjoyable" - Managing Editor, The Best Reviews

" In the tradition of her earlier novels, Charity's Prisoner is classified as a sweet romance pushing the envelope in the would of publishing" <FOUR STARS> - Scribes World Reviews

" Engaging characters and an original storyline... A fun and refreshing romance" - Romance Readers Connection

"Ms. Bayne gives reader's a special story so sweet and heart-tugging you come away with a great feeling in this excellent tale. Makes you want to rush out and volunteer your own services to this wonderful organization. Ahhh... Robin this is precious!! EXCELLENT!! 4 BELLS!! " - Donita Lawrence, Bell Book & Candle

The floor felt cold, almost damp, under Charity Well’s rear end, the sensation seeping through the linen slacks and silk panties to her skin beneath. It was little consolation that she’d decided on
pants this morning instead of her usual short skirt. With her back against the tiled wall, and her elbows propped on her bent knees, she watched the man pacing the small storage room. His stride swallowed up the tiny chamber in just several paces, making him turn and move the other way every few seconds. Every ten minutes or so he yelled for someone to let them out, his baritone echoing against the metal door. But no one heard, no one unlocked the gate to their prison, no one acknowledged their presence at all.

Blackness socked her in the face as the lights went out.

Great. Char sucked in her breath. Her eyes would adjust momentarily, she hoped, to let her see Ryan. He knew she was on the floor, but would he recall where before he tripped over her? She could smell the cologne he always wore, a woodsy scent that reminded her of autumn. His scent moved in the cell along with his soft footsteps, and Char assumed he was someone who thought better when pacing. Well, whatever worked for him. They needed to come up with a plan, and she hadn’t thought of anything more than the fact that the man she was trapped with smelled good.

She couldn’t see much, even after she gave herself time to adjust, but she was grateful for the little light there was. A high placed tiny window cast a dim glow on the top of Ryan Perry’s head, which she noticed had stopped moving. It was as if he were an angel, and all she could see was his halo. "Ryan?"

"Yeah. I’m here." His voice turned towards her. "Can I give you a hand? You should get off of that cold floor. We may be here a while."

She reached out and probed the air briefly before finding his fingers. He was at least six inches taller than she, and his strong grip pulled her to her feet with a gentle tug. "Thanks. How long do you think we’ve been in here?"

Char heard a rustling, and she imagined he shrugged his shoulders. He still wore the leather jacket he’d arrived in, a buttery smooth black coat over his white shirt and navy tie. She’d watched Ryan
be escorted to the little room shortly after she’d arrived, the program’s volunteer guard locking the room from the outside before leaving them alone. Char had called out after him, asking the whereabouts of the other pretend prisoners, but the lanky youth had only smiled and told them to enjoy their stay.

"If only they’d given me time to grab my briefcase, I’d have my cell phone," Ryan said, making the cot groan as he sat.

"That would have been appropriate, considering that we’re stuck here." Char said, and took off her wool blazer. "Get it, cell phone?"

"Yeah." The word seemed to float at her in the dark. He was not amused.

"I’m putting my jacket here beside you," she told him, moving toward the top of his head speckled in moonlight. "Why don’t you loosen your tie? Take your coat off?" Perhaps he’d loosen up as
well. He was as tense as if they were in a board meeting being grilled on their monthly profit. She sat beside him, leaving a few feet of army blanketed cot between their thighs. Had the cot been placed here just for the program by mall management? The other boxes stored here had been shoved up against the two side walls.

"I will. How was that water from the sink?" His elbow breezed by her nose as he worked off the silk tie and moved across the room.

"Like I poured it from an unwashed tin can. But other than that, it was wet." Thank heavens they had water. The room must have once been an employee dressing room or something, because they also had a tiny toilet, though neither of them had bothered to mention it. Or use it.

"I imagine it’s been an hour, wouldn’t you think?" Ryan turned on the water.

She pictured him cupping his hands to drink. He had strong hands, she remembered, from watching him work his computer keyboard. The splash of water on porcelain reminded her how long it had
been since she’d gone. "I think it’s been at least two. Do you think they just forgot us? Did they let everyone else out at five o’clock?"

Ryan’s clothing made the shoulder shrugging sound again. "I don’t have time for this nonsense. I have a date tonight."

For no good reason, Char felt irritation prickle along her spine. Why should she care if he had a date? They were both stuck in here, until the volunteers released them, and he’d have to make the best of it. Like her.

"It wasn’t meant to be nonsense. The program is a good one—but you and I obviously didn’t pledge our time as agreed, and so here we are." She reached down and pulled off both of her suede pumps, rubbing her insteps. "It’s been all over the radio that the Prisoners for Charity Program would be going on this week, so it’s no big surprise that I’m here. What about you?"

"I did not agree to pledge any time to the Big Brother and Sister Program, so even when they finally let us out of here, nothing will have changed." Ryan returned to the narrow cot, but instead of sitting beside her, he moved to the front wall, and she heard him pounding on the door

Char wondered why he wasn’t trying to ram the cot through the door or something; the Ryan she’d seen in action wouldn’t accept this so easily if he didn’t want to.

Suddenly he turned to her. "What do you have in that purse of yours?"

"The usual stuff." He had nerve, she thought as she reached for the leather bag.

"Anything metal, I mean? Like keys? We could scrape it along the metal door and maybe attract some attention." In the dark, Char could see only the top of his head silhouetted against the door.
She imagined his broad shoulders, picture him rolling up his long sleeves, revealing muscles she’d only imagined before.

With a sigh she kept to herself, Char pulled her purse onto her lap and began to feel around inside. "I don’t have my keys, they’re still in my briefcase in my office. The most metallic thing I have is this tin of Altoid™ Mints." She held the tin up in his direction, felt him take it, and resumed her rummaging. "Oohh, here’s a chocolate egg. It’s from my Easter basket last weekend. Want half?"

He made a sound like a grunt. "I did contribute cash, you know. I’m not a Scrooge."

What spurred that comment? "I’m not judging you. I’ve been locked in here by our wonderful boss’s program, too, you know."

He went on as though she hadn’t spoken. "A year’s a long time to make a commitment to a child. And then that connection..." He broke off, and the tin clattered to the concrete floor. "is severed, one way or another."

Char mashed the chocolate in her fingers, breaking the egg into two soft, undefined pieces. Ryan retrieved the tin and proceeded to swipe it back and forth across the metal door, clanking across the rough surface, but not nearly loud enough.

"Don’t you have your keys either? Or a pocket knife?"

"No. Both are in my briefcase, like yours, back in the office. I just went along quietly with the little guy—thinking this would over by the end of the day. A normal, working Wednesday. This is charity, or supposed to be, it’s not as if we’re criminals. We’re in the heart of a public shopping mall. So when is the game over?" With a particularly forceful swipe, the Altoid trade; tin dropped from Ryan’s hand and clinked as it skittered across the floor, under a shelving unit, and out of their reach.

"Great," Char said, mumbling. "Here—this is all we have now. Eat some chocolate." She thought he’d refuse, but Ryan accepted the lump and thanked her.

Char warned him about the mess he’d have on his hands. Warm chocolate melts in your hands, and everywhere else. In the dark a little smear could grow into a big mess. Of course, this whole situation was a big mess.

"So what do you think this is, the back of Sears or the sporting goods store?" Ryan began pacing again. He couldn’t help it; he had energy pulsing through his muscles. "They walked us out the main
entrance and around to a row of unmarked doors."

She shook her head, and he could just make out loose curls bouncing in the scrap of light they shared. "I’m not sure. I was put in a similar room last year for the Cancer Foundation Drive. I was
‘arrested,’ along with two of the buyers at lunch, and brought down here. Carter came and bailed us out with his donation. It was on the radio and got a lot of attention."

"How long did it take him?"

Carter their boss was punctual and businesslike most of the time. Except when he felt the need to act like his employees were his children. "We were out by two-thirty. And the lights stayed on."

"Aahh." Ryan scratched his head. "If Carter knew we were down here, he would’ve sprung us by now. Are there a lot of storage rooms in use? Could anyone else be locked in too?"

She hesitated. "I think there are a few more on the opposite end of the mall, but we’d only be able to hear someone in the room on either side of us, I think. They’d hear us, too. Like you said, we’re
not criminals and this isn’t supposed to be solitary confinement. It’s supposed to be fun."

"Yeah, right. So we’re probably alone?"

"More than likely. I guess we were just forgotten." She sighed. "This is a good reason to be late for work tomorrow, huh?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On how long it takes for them to finally let us out. Not to mention what kind of physical condition we’ll be in by then."

"You’re right. This might entitle us to a week off!"

"You know, you are truly amazing. Why are you so cheerful?"

"What, did you expect a hysterical female?"

"No, but if I have to be trapped here at all, I just mean, you’re not bad company. And you smell good." He sat on the cot again, keeping a proper distance.

Char felt a tingle of pleasure at his statement. To a man like Ryan, ‘not bad company’ was high praise. But as the thought faded, she couldn’t help wondering again why he wasn’t tearing the room
apart to get out.

They both stared straight ahead at the wall, or what was visible of it. Their prison gate, the metal door, stood to their left. "How long have you been at Davis Designs?" he asked.

"Almost four years. I came in from a branch store after doing window displays and walls, and was promoted into management. How about you?"

"Six years next month. I was transferred to Baltimore two months ago from D.C., but I’ve been with the company ever since I got my MBA."

"Oooh, impressive," she said, equally proud of her own accomplishments. "I went to art school in Baltimore."

"An artist?"

"Of course. How do you think I learned how to design print ads and coordinate floor displays? I could always draw, but applying that skill took education."

She sounded irritated now, but doubted he’d meant to insult her. He probably had just had never thought of any Davis employees being artistic instead of business-minded like he was. Char threw him a harsh look he certainly couldn’t see. Did he know the people he worked with at all? He certainly didn’t date anyone he worked with, at least none that she’d noticed.

Date. With no watch, it was impossible to know how late Ryan was for his date.

They’d lapsed into a quiet tension; she could feel it vibrating off his shoulders. Between the two of them, nerves seemed to shake the cot like magic fingers in a cheap hotel room. And yet neither of them was moving a muscle.

"Will your date understand?"

"Let’s just say if you feel a bit irritable right now, which you must be, I guarantee it’s mild compared to what Julia will feel. But tell me, what were your plans for this evening?"

She sighed and moved her legs, stretching them in front of her. "I’m supposed to watch my sister’s kids. She and her husband are, were, going to a dinner party. I doubt they’ll be able to find a
replacement on short notice, not for three small children. My parents have recently moved to Florida, so she can’t call them. The worst is that I know Merry will worry about me."

"Is that a nice feeling?"

"Is what nice?"

"Having someone worry about you?" Ryan added, his voice neutral.

She paused before answering. "Yeah, I guess it is. It’s not something I think about much. How ‘bout you?"

Ryan stretched his legs out, too, so that they rested parallel with hers. "Me neither."

After a minute or so, Char rearranged her legs and tried again. "You don’t like to talk about yourself, do you?"

"Unless it’s about my resume, then usually, no."

"Then tell me about your date. Anyone I’d know from work?"

"No."

"Look, the time’s not going to just fly by here unless we get our minds off of our poor selves. Now, what does she do?" Char’s voice was quiet, tighter.

He really didn’t want to tell her, Char knew, but had no idea why. She felt him squirming around like a bored child.

"It’s not that big of a deal, Ryan, forget I asked."

"Julia’s a model. We met on one of the commercial shoots for the store."

Char said nothing, silently absorbing that fact.

"What? Should I have lied? Said she was a school teacher so you wouldn’t get that attitude?"

"What attitude? I think that’s...very nice." Char didn’t know what to say to him after that. A model...it figured. Ryan was tall and had the look of a man who used the muscles in his body as often as those in his head. She’d noticed those blue eyes before, too, though she doubted he’d noticed her before tonight.

Not that he was noticing her now, either. No doubt he was sitting there imagining his date with his fashion model and all the fun he was missing, sitting here beside Charity Wells, the artist, in the
dark, at the mercy of mall security to release them.

Her stomach rumbled and she realized the last of the chocolate was gone. She sneaked a glance over at Ryan’s form, but he hadn’t seemed to hear. Well, she wouldn’t mind losing five pounds and
this could be her kick-off night. She could call Weight-Watchers and suggest they do a commercial here and even use Julia as the model. Not that the Julia she envisioned would even consider doing ads for a diet program. The woman she imagined was picture perfect, never needed airbrushing and
would make beautiful babies with Ryan.

Where had that thought come from? She was being ridiculous. Her thoughts ran to places she didn’t want them, to places in her mind she’d rather keep hidden. So why did it make her resent this woman she’d conjured up? She was feeling a little green about a man who probably thought her to be a short little artsy hippie playing at being an executive.

Char caught a trace of what must be Ryan’s scented deodorant or cologne. He must be getting warm, she thought, and tried to sneak a sniff of herself. She smelled just fine, as far as she could
tell. Thank heavens. She might not look like a model but at least she didn’t have B.O.

A clanking above them, on an upper level, had them both on their feet. It clanked again then thudded like metal on something hollow. Char’s pulse accelerated and she was yelling before Ryan. "Hey, hey, we’re down here!"

"Hello! Is anyone there?" Ryan shouted from directly behind her, reaching his arms around her body to shake the doorknob as if it would bend. Or make noise. Their calls echoed through the large and obviously empty facility. Silence followed the clanks.

"It must have been heating equipment," Ryan said.

She nodded. He remained behind her, staring out toward the door, almost near enough to be pressed against her back. She could feel his breath wafting across the top of her head, could feel him as if he had an aura bouncing from him to her, an electric one.

Ryan rattled the door once more, then leaned into the wall, holding his chest away from her but allowing his head to rest against hers. She caught her breath, and waited. The weight of his head was easy for her to bear, and a piece of his hair, softer than she’d expected, tickled her ear.

"You don’t think there are rats or anything in here, do you?" She hated to break their moment of camaraderie but was really beginning to picture little rodents knocking things over upstairs.

"No," he said, into her ear. "No rats or mice."

"That’s good." She knew he had no way to know that. Why was he still standing behind her, so close?

"Hmm, do you use cinnamon shampoo?" he asked, moving his lips to her other ear. He took one hand from the bars and grasped the thick hoop of her earring between his fingers. "Gold?"

"Yes. My sister gave them to me for Christmas." And they must be magnetic, she thought, because I can feel energy pulsing between us.

He pulled back then, releasing her ear and breaking the near proximity. "You two must be very close."

"Mmmhmm." Char turned and faced him, not that much of him was visible to her. But she could feel that he was there. She knew he didn’t want to be there. For that matter, neither did she. But she liked it that he was. And she was.

"So are you?"

"Am I what?"

He maintained the short distance, breaking the magnetic pull. "Close to your sister?"

Char felt an emptiness where he’d been, and began toying with her own earring. "Yeah. She’s married, and has three adorable kids. I can’t have...I can’t have enough time to spend time with them." She glanced up at his face, but of course couldn’t see an expression. Good.

He turned and began pacing again, widening the energy field even further. His irritation bounced around, hitting the walls like a racquetball in mid play. Char immediately missed the considerate, gentle man who seemed to have been swallowed up by the frustrated executive.

"It’s almost pitch black outside," she said, "judging by that little window. It still gets dark kind of early this time of year."

He paused, and Char thought she saw a hand go to his head. "Huh? Oh, yeah." Ryan resumed his pacing, dismissing her comment. Not that she could do anything about the light, anyway.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked the question slowly, almost afraid he’d give her five dollars’ worth. Either way, it would be better than sitting here in the dark, feeling alone, when she wasn’t.

"Sorry, I’m just brainstorming on how to get out of here."

"And?"

He froze again, in front of her. "And, I think we’ll be out of here just as soon as someone discovers us." He mumbled, and Char assumed he was cursing his lack of options. She felt for the cot and
sank down on the uneven canvas, her back shimmying down the cold wall. Still, she could only sit up, saving room for Ryan to sit on the other half. A little shiver traced the trail of her spine. It was going to be a long night.

Sometime later, he had no idea how long they’d been asleep, Ryan woke with a kink in his neck from the forward lolling of his head. He straightened up, causing little stinging bursts to warm his
back. Great, now what?

Beside him Char stirred, reaching up to cup her neck with one hand. Sharing a cot hadn’t been such a good idea. Not only had he been entirely too aware of her presence for the last few hours, but now every nerve in his body was screaming with abuse.

Ryan reached over and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing, pressing deep into the muscles that had to be wound as tight as his. When she lifted her hair away from her neck, he took her signal and worked upward, smiling when a groan drifted out into the dark.

"Thank you. That’s wonderful." With her back to him, she scooted closer on the makeshift bed.

Ryan held his breath as he felt her push against him, unconcerned about his nearness, looking only for deeper massage. Mentally reviewing his next day’s work schedule for distraction, he continued to manipulate her bare neck. It felt smooth, the skin soft over the knotted muscles. Strands of her hair tickled his fingers.

Friday, day after tomorrow, is the end-of-week review.

She smelled good.

Tomorrow is the day to start interviewing for a new secretary.

"Can I reciprocate?" Her question snapped his attention back to the cot.

"Please." He turned to face the wall, presenting his back to Char’s hands. And body.

"You’re tall," she said, softly, and he felt the thin mattress shift.

A quick glance over his shoulder told him she’d gotten up on her knees, leaning toward him, poised and ready to rub him down. Her breasts were just at his shoulder level, he couldn’t help but notice, and forced himself to face the wall again. It was safer.

Her small hands had no trouble working the muscles of his shoulders and spine as she worked down the length of his back. Ryan took slow, deep breaths, concentrating on the relaxation of his
body. Every time she leaned close, he could smell a soft, cinnamon toast smell. He needed to distract himself with work thoughts again. Her palms made slow circles over his shoulder blades, and she reached under his arms to rub, then slid lower to his waist. He couldn’t see her, but was jolted when he felt her chest brushing against his shirt. Right through the wrinkled cotton, he felt her. And jumped up.

"I’m sorry, did I hurt you?"

He shuffled the hair around on his head. She didn’t have a clue what she was doing to him, and he knew she would consider herself a nice girl. "No."

"Well, sit down again, and I’ll finish you off."

Ryan held in his wry chuckle. "Char, thank you, I’m unwinding. But you being so close was increasing the tension, if you get my drift, and that was not what you had in mind."

He couldn’t see her face, but saw the top of her head tilt down. God, now he’d hurt her feelings, pissed her off or something.

"Char?"

"Ryan, I’m really sorry, but—"

"But what?" He braced himself for some accusation of sexual harassment, some protestations of innocence. Or a caustic remark.

"I really, really have to pee."

"What?" That was it? She had to pee? He could have laughed, but realized he could stand to go, too, and wasn’t really ready to do it in front of a lady he was attracted to, but barely knew. Not
that it really mattered. At least not to him, but women were sensitive about these things. "Well, at least we have a joh—toilet."

He could feel the embarrassment rolling off her. So much for the tension relief. He moved to the area and felt for the porcelain, finding the sink, and then to its right, the toilet-tank. "Come here."
Then he turned the sink’s faucet on full blast.

"Geez, I feel stupid," she said, bumping into his arm.

"Yell when you’re done," he told her, as if he wouldn’t know. With the water crashing into the sink for sound coverage, Ryan moved to stand across the room, allowing Char a tiny smidgen of privacy. He imagined her sliding her pants down, baring herself. He wasn’t sure how she managed it, but he heard nothing over the running water until a flush filled the room. Just in time, too, because hearing that little waterfall made his need more urgent.

She touched his back, and took his place. Without a word, he finished up and shut off the faucet. Char’s figure was just barely visible at the door, and he felt as if he should be able to go right up
behind her and kiss her neck, wrap his arms around her. This woman, whom he’d known professionally for only a few months, seemed like his lover now. He now knew what her skin
felt like in his hands, how her hair smelled, how much she loved her family. With nothing more than a shoulder rub and a bathroom break, they had become intimate.

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