Bewitched: In Too Deep. Lori Foster
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Harry studying her. He was so sure of himself, so arrogant. So damn good-looking. “Of course,” she lied, disconcerted with his stare and just annoyed enough to goad him. She evidently used enough sincerity because his fierce frown reappeared.
Despite his obvious polish, he looked almost demonic with that evil glare. His incredible light brown eyes seemed scorching hot and far too probing, as if he could see inside her. She shivered, then shook off the fanciful thoughts. He was just a man like all the others, bigger, definitely stronger and more eloquent, but still fairly basic and ruled by simple motivations. She could, and would, control him.
His gaze lowered to her chest. “I can’t imagine why. You don’t appear to have anything all that spectacular to conceal.”
He was going for the jugular, but Charlie, having worked in a bar for the past seven years, wasn’t even tempted by the familiar baiting. At least her disguise had worked well. She was wearing enough layers to keep her warm and conceal any feminine curves at the same time.
Harry squeezed her hand to regain her attention and his expression was still too intent. “It’s not that I haven’t been shot before, you understand, but—”
“You should be more careful with your gun.”
His eyes darkened, grew hotter. “Not with my gun, you little—”
“Listen. Isn’t he shifting now? And if I’m not mistaken, the truck is slowing.”
Harry gave her a long look of promised retribution. “Yes.” He pulled his long legs up against the bed of the truck, bracing himself. “Time for us to go.”
Charlie gulped. She looked down at the passing roadway beneath her and winced. True enough the truck had slowed, but the road still flew by them.
“One…”
“Ah, maybe—”
“Two…”
“Wait a second!”
“…three.”
“Harry!”
“Go.” And with that, he gave her a shove while using his muscular bulk to propel them out. They landed together, their hands still linked, and somehow Harry managed to get beneath her so that he cushioned much of her fall, not that his hard body felt much more giving than the roadway. They tumbled before coming to a dead stop, her on top, their legs tangled together. But just as quickly he rolled to the left, putting her beneath him—and into a very large icy puddle. She sucked in her breath with the shock of it.
His enormous body covered her completely, unmoving, heavy and hard. For the moment she was unable to think with any clarity. It felt as though her teeth had been jarred loose and with his great hulking weight on her, she couldn’t draw a deep breath. Rain struck her face, icy cold and stinging against her flesh.
After a moment he lifted his head and looked behind them. Rain ran in rivulets from his hair to her chest. “The truck lights are going around the bend. I do believe Ralph is totally unaware that he’s lost his guests.”
When she didn’t respond, he looked down at her. Charlie stared at his shadowed features in the darkness, struck again by his perfect handsomeness. He seemed such a contradiction. A fancy-pants, but with a lumberjack’s body. A gallant hero, but still a bit earthy. She couldn’t help but be awed by him, and she hated it.
His head lowered until he blocked the worst of the rain from her face, until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. Her chest constricted the tiniest bit more.
It was absurd! She’d long ago learned the truth about men and their deceptions. But now, at the most unlikely of times, her mind had gone wandering along wayward paths.
Still, she could feel him from breasts to knees, and he was firm and muscled and big. The wet ground and the danger seemed to fade for just a moment.
“Are you all right?”
His voice was low and deep and she wondered at it, even as she felt her belly curl in response to his tone. “I can’t breathe.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered for long moments. He closed his eyes and turned his head away. “My apologies.” Gingerly, he removed himself, groaning every so often. He offered her a hand and together they sat there in the middle of the road. “I lingered in the hopes of feeling something worthy of my life, but you seem to be all pointy bones.”
“What are you whining about?” As she stood, forcing her wobbly legs to support her, she squished. The puddle had seeped beneath her leather jacket to the layers of padding beneath. She was soggy as an old dishrag and probably holding about a gallon of water.
“Your breasts, sweetheart, those magnificent assets that are worth my life.”
Oh for pity’s sake. “Are you still harking on about that?” She looked around and saw nothing but darkness and endless stretching highway. The rain continued to fall, but luckily there was no traffic. None at all. “Where are we?”
“Yes, I’m still harking. It is my life, after all, though it obviously means little enough to you. And I’d say we’re in the middle of the damn road, somewhere between Corsville and oblivion, getting more sodden by the second.”
She started walking, leaving him behind. With every step, her boots, two sizes two large and now slick with the rain from the inside out, rubbed against her heels. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling and she knew before long she’d have horrible blisters. But what else could she do? Stand around and wait for Ralph to return? Miss the grand performance she’d waited a lifetime to witness?
Probably, her thinking continued, she’d already missed it. That prospect angered her so much, she ignored Harry when he called to her.
“Hold up.” His large hand closed on her arm and pulled her to a halt. “We can’t just traipse down the middle of the road. In case it’s escaped your notice, Floyd and Ralph are not nice men. They could double back looking for us. We need to get out of sight.”
True enough, she thought, and nodded. “Yeah, and I suppose that means the woods.” She glanced down at his dress shoes. “And with this downpour, it’ll be a swamp.” Her smile wasn’t entirely nice. She started in that direction, and Harry followed. Both sides of the highway were lined with thick trees and little else.
“I can see by your snide expression you expect me to have a certain aversion to mud?”
She kept walking. “I hope not, ’cause big and heavy as you are, you’ll sink up to your knees.”
Harry turned up his collar and swiped the rain from his face, then shaded his eyes. “With all those trees acting as an umbrella, the ground might not be as saturated as you think.”
“You hope.”
He ignored her. “And likely the woods abut a farm or some sort of residential dwelling. We could get access to a phone.”
She turned to face him. “All right, have you convinced yourself?”
His look of condescension had her grinning again. “I was attempting to reassure you, but I see the effort was wasted. Allow me to lead.”
“Sure thing, Harry.” At least his big body would block some of the rain. She stumbled along behind him in her heavy, soaked clothes, more miserable than she’d ever been in her life—not that she’d let him know it.
Harry took her arm. “You surprise me. I didn’t expect you to be so agreeable.”
She hunched both shoulders against the rain and trod onward, pulled along by his hand on her arm. “I’m easy.”
His chuckle could be heard even over the rainstorm. “No grand confessions here, if you please. Not when I can’t do anything about them.”
She tried to stare at him, lost at his words, but he more or less dragged her behind him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He