And that was when she noticed him again.

Her kidnapper.

He was sitting on the couch, facing the mountains, not her. His fingers were crossed behind his neck. Her attention latched on to what little of him she could see-the tousled head of blond hair, straight and thick. The clipped-short fingernails. He wasn’t wearing formal attire this time, but exactly the opposite. The sleeves of his sweatshirt were yanked up, frayed at the cuffs near his elbows. Hair sprinkled his forearms. Not a caveman amount. But enough.

He was such a total guy in every way.

Carolina waited a heartbeat for terror to kick in. He’d spirited her away against her choice or will; he was a strong, virile man, and she had no clue what he wanted from her. Obviously she should be afraid. Not just afraid, but panicked. Terrified.

Instead…

Her pulse bucked. But not with fear. At least not exactly. Even when, as if sensing she was awake, he suddenly whipped his head around and found her gaze on him.

He was up in a flash, crossing the room, but he lifted his hands in a universal gesture indicating, “Take it easy, take it easy.” He bent down, reached for a lipstick-red netbook and carried it toward her.

The minicomputer was already set to word processing, already had words on it.

“I’m Maguire,” the first line read. And then, “You can speak, but I know you can’t hear. So this is how I can communicate with you. Okay?”

After she read it, she looked up. He was, of course, kidding. Nothing was okay. Still, he plopped at the foot of her bed and started typing, then handed her the netbook again.

“You don’t get to grade me on typos. Or speed.” He looked up at her again, as if expecting her to reply.

Carolina blinked at him. Alice in Wonderland couldn’t have been this bewildered. A strange man was sitting on her bed, in a place where he’d kidnapped her-and seemed to think she’d be in the mood to make jokes.