The Marine & the Debutante. Maureen Child

didn’t say that.”

      “You most certainly did.”

      All right, maybe he shouldn’t have started any of this. It was none of his business how she lived. His job was simply to return her to the lap of luxury and get the hell out of Dodge. They had another few days together, and there was no sense in being outright enemies, for Pete’s sake.

      “You know what you are?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and studying him as if he were smeared on a glass slide beneath a microscope.

      “I’ll bet you’re about to tell me.”

      “I’d be happy to,” she said, a soft smile curving that luscious mouth of hers.

      She looked like a woman with a point to make, and Travis, like any other sane man, battened down the hatches and waited for the blow.

      “You’re a snob.”

      A short, sharp laugh shot from his throat, ricocheting off the rock walls to echo mockingly.

      “A snob?” he repeated.

      “That’s right.”

      “Honey,” he said, “I don’t make enough money to be a snob.”

      “That’s just it,” she countered, folding her arms beneath her breasts and nodding at him. “You’re a reverse snob.”

      “Oh, this should be good,” he said, intrigued in spite of himself. He watched her with interest and couldn’t help noticing again just how damn fine she looked, sitting there all smug in her dirty designer dress.

      “Because you don’t have money, you’re prejudiced against those who do.”

      “Darlin’,” he reminded her, “you don’t have money. Your daddy does.”

      Her eyes narrowed, and he had the distinct feeling that if she could have reached him, she just might have slapped his face. But since she couldn’t, she kept talking. Which was, he thought wryly, worse than the slap would have been.

      “You’re a snob, and changing the subject won’t alter that one fact.”

      “Yeah, right.”

      “Why else would you make assumptions about me?” she asked, drumming her fingertips against her upper arms. “You don’t know me at all.”

      “Sure I do, princess,” he drawled, letting the words slide out slowly on purpose. “I’ve known you most of my life.”

      She sniffed. “Trust me, if we’d ever met, I would remember.”

      “Okay, not you specifically,” he continued. “But your kind.”

      “My kind?”

      “Yep.” His mother would be shamed to know it, but he was beginning to enjoy himself here. Nothing quite like a good argument to get your mind off your worries. And he pretty much figured that, by now, the “princess” was so mad at him, she wasn’t thinking about her captors or about how small their chances of getting out of here were—or anything else for that matter except maybe taking his head off.

      Oh, not that he’d started all of this because of the kindness of his heart. No, she irritated him beyond measure. With her stylish clothes and her whining about having to run for her own life. But now that she was giving as good as she got…now that he saw that fire of temper in her eyes…damned if he wasn’t having a good time.

      “Oh yes,” she said nodding, “that’s a very cogent argument.”

      “Ah,” he replied with a chuckle, “fifty-cent words. Trying to confuse the ‘help’?”

      “You’re really a pain in the—”

      “Now, that’s not very ladylike, is it?” he asked, cutting her off just in time.

      Inhaling sharply, she drew a long, deep breath into her lungs and held it. That did amazing things for her bustline, though Travis knew that if she realized he was noticing, she’d cut it out.