He must have felt her startle awake. He gripped her tighter and growled in her ear: “If you put up a fuss I’ll drop you and let you roll down two flights of stairs. And while I might find the sight amusing and potentially interesting, I don’t think you’d enjoy it.” “So instead we get to reenact Gone with the Wind?” “You should be so lucky. I’m leaving you the moment I drop you on the bed.” “Lucky?” she fired back. “You do have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you? I hate to tell you this but you’re not exactly my type.” He said nothing, but she had the uneasy feeling he didn’t believe her. He was the enemy, she reminded herself. Nothing more and nothing less. He carried her all the way to the third floor, all without the slightest sign of effort, and Jenny found herself wishing she could make herself heavier. Anything to derail her damnable reaction to him. By the time he kicked open the door, she was so steaming mad she didn’t bother to look around her.
