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just visible from the window to the right.
    The floors were soft wood and there was not one rug in sight. The whole place smelled of wood and leather, it was an intoxicating aroma, one that made Clair smile.
    The only chair in the room was a deep soft recliner, obviously ancient. Cole pointed to it with a grunt and Claire sank into it. Her eyes wandered the sparsely furnished room as she wondered who the strange man who had rescued her really was; the house seemed to want to keep his secrets. Out of idle curiously she leaned close to the bookshelves and peered at the titles. Most were in Italian and German, many were classics.
    That only increased her curiosity. There seemed to be no television, no computer. She scanned the ceiling, wondering what it was that was missing and then she gasped, her eyes flicking to the bottoms of the walls. There were no electrical receptacles or lights anywhere.
    She blinked, wondering what her rescuer did for running water. Before that line of thought could turn unappetizing he reappeared holding a bowl of light green liquid. He sank to the floor at her feet and picked them up. She gasped in shock as her feet met the cold water; whatever he had added to it stung the tiny cuts all over her sensitive flesh.
    “It’s made from pine needles and eucalyptus.”
    “You should sell it to the spa I use; I swear its run by a fucking sadist. It would be right up her alley.”
    Cole hid a grin and stood, “Keep your feet in there for at least half an hour. You have a lot of scratches and cuts and the last thing I need is you dying from an infection.”
    “How do I get out of here? You said there is a highway in every direction.”
    “There is. Just walk out of here and head in any direction. Go west and you will reach it in half a day, east is about the same. North a day, go south and it’s about six hours.”
    “Shit,” Clair said weakly. “I don’t suppose you would give a girl a ride?”
    “Not used to walking?” Cole asked sarcastically.
    “I walk all the time. “Claire said haughtily, “I live in Manhattan you know.”
    “I didn’t know.”
    Claire’s mouth fell open. “How can you not know? I’m Claire Maxwell!”
    “I’m Cole Reynolds.”
    Claire blinked. “You really don’t know who I am, do you? What have you been living under a rock the past couple of years?”
    Instantly she regretted the question. Of course he had, she was sitting there in his house, which was basically inside a rock and she already knew he didn’t have any electricity so of course he couldn’t know that she was the hottest reality star of the moment. Her father was one of the country’s richest men and she had been bored and angered by the fact that ev eryone she knew was getting a sh ow so she had gone to her father and he had called up a friend of his in the entertainment industry and wham! She was a star.
    “I’m a reality show star.”
    “You mean reality as defined by the media?” There was amusement in Cole’s eyes.
    Stung Claire quickly changed the subject, “Will those guys find us?”
    “Not unless they somehow manage to find the house that is highly unlikely though. How many were there?”
    “Um, the two who kidnapped me and the pilot? ”
    “The pilot is dead.”
    Claire shuddered at the coldness in his voice. “The other guy might be too. He accidentally shot the one who was chasing us when the plane went down.”
    “He was chasing us so he is likely only superficially wounded. That or the adrenaline has not worn off enough for him to know he’s really hurt.”
    Cole got up from the floor and went to a room that led off of it. Claire sat there with her feet soaking and her eyes began to close. She drifted off into a light doze that was abruptly broken by a hand on her shoulder.
    “ Let’s get you r feet out of there,” Cole said and then pulled the bowl away before handing her a plate filled with a savory looking chunk of meat that was smothered in roasted onion and