Blue Ridge Ricochet. Пола Грейвс
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“You’re not like any man I’ve ever tried to seduce, Dallas Cole.”
“Is that good or bad?”
She cocked her head, a smile flirting with her kiss-stung lips. “Both.”
“In case it’s not clear, I do want you.”
She stepped closer until she pressed against him. “I know.”
She was damn near impossible to resist, but he made himself ease her away. “We have to trust each other.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“And sex complicates things.”
“It does.”
“It would be easy to let myself get caught up in you, as a way of forgetting…”
“Comfort sex.”
“Yes.” He stole a look at her. “I don’t want there to be any doubts between us. I don’t want you to ever feel used.”
“A little late for that,” she said in a wry tone, and he realized she was revealing more about her past than perhaps she meant to.
Blue Ridge Ricochet
Paula Graves
PAULA GRAVES, an Alabama native, wrote her first book at the age of six. A voracious reader, Paula loves books that pair tantalizing mystery with compelling romance. When she’s not reading or writing, she works as a creative director for a Birmingham advertising agency and spends time with her family and friends. Paula invites readers to visit her website www.paulagraves.com.
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Contents
Sleet rattled against the windshield, a staccato counterpoint to the rhythmic swish-swish of the windshield wipers. Outside, night had fallen in inky finality, as if it planned to stay awhile, the Jeep’s headlights the only illumination as far as the eye could see.
Nicolette Jamison forced herself out of a weary slouch behind the steering wheel and concentrated on the curving mountain road revealed in her headlights, well aware of the treachery that lay ahead for a careless driver. The switchbacks and drop-offs in the Blue Ridge Mountains could be deadly if you weren’t paying attention. Not to mention the occasional reckless deer or coyote—
“Son of a—!”
The man loomed in the Jeep’s headlights as suddenly as if the swirling mist had conjured him up, a tall, lean phantom of a man who turned slowly to face the headlights as she hit the brakes and prayed she wouldn’t go into a skid this dangerously close to a steep drop-off.
The Jeep’s wheels grabbed the blacktop and hung on, the vehicle shimmying to a stop just a yard away from the apparition gazing back at her through the windshield. For a second, she had a strange sense of recognition, as if she knew him, though she was pretty sure she didn’t.
Then his eyes fluttered closed and he dropped out of sight.
Nicki’s heart stuttered like a snare drum against her rib cage as she stared at the misty void where, seconds earlier, she’d seen the staring man.
Ghost,