In the Arms of a Stranger (Entangled Ignite), page 14
Right. Credit card transactions could be easily traced. She’d seen that in movies.
Movies! This was what her life had become. God help her.
She bought a pair of shorts, underwear, socks, two tops, and a dufflel bag. They went next door to a convenience store to buy toiletries.
JP bought another car at a tiny used car dealership. She didn’t see him transact the final deal and pay, but he must have had enough cash to cover it. They left the dealership with her driving a sedate older Taurus. JP led the way in his truck.
Minutes later, they were on a deserted gravel road. JP pulled to the side and waited until she stopped behind him before getting out.
“There’s an abandoned clay pit at the end of this road,” he said, bending to speak to her. “I’m going to dump the truck there, in the lake. I’ll need to drive down the fence line until I can find a way to get through. Follow me, but stop when you reach the fence. I’ll walk back to you. Give me at least fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes that stretched into a lifetime, she decided after checking her watch for the hundredth time, ten minutes later. Finally, she got out of the car, too restless to sit behind the wheel any longer. He’d never said what she was supposed to do if fifteen minutes passed and he didn’t show up…
Another five minutes passed. The sun rose higher in the sky, and the temperature and humidity began to take their toll. Hot and miserable, she heard a car coming down the road to the clay pit. Frantically looking around, she saw a pile of debris, discarded lumber, and other construction material, large and small tree branches, piled high on one side of the road. Refusing to think beyond hiding, she got back in the car and drove it behind the pile, stopping when she was as sure as she could be that it couldn’t be seen from the road.
But what about JP? What if he didn’t see the car back here? Worse, what if whoever was out there saw him?
Not sure she was doing the right thing, she got out of the car, taking care not to slam the door. Ducking low, she crept close to the limbs and lumber and, heart pounding in her ears, peeked around it.
It was a sheriff’s department cruiser. Barely moving forward, the deputy inside looked from side to side, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He was searching for something. Them?
She ducked back down, looking toward the clay pit beyond the fence. Waiting. JP was late. Had the deputy seen him? Killed him?
Oh, God! She was losing it. Why would a deputy in another county, another state, want to kill JP? This man was probably out here on a totally unrelated matter. Not looking for them.
Then again, he could have been alerted by Brooks. Brooks could have told several states and counties to have their officers be on the alert for JP. For them both.
No, not for her. They didn’t know about her. Unless Brooks was the one who’d sent Cal and the men JP had killed in Ocean Springs. Which, even if she didn’t trust Brooks, sounded paranoid.
From beyond the pile of debris, the cruiser continued moving, tires making crackling noises as they rolled over loose gravel, closer and closer to the dead end at the fence.
Suddenly, she thought of something. Tracks. Damn!
He was going to see her tire tracks and follow them. JP had gone down a path along the fence line. But just now she had panicked and driven over tall grass and weeds. Why hadn’t she thought of the tracks she was leaving behind?
Because you’re a schoolteacher, not a spy.
Certain she was shaking, she glanced at her hands. No, not shaking. She heard the drone of insects all around. The cruiser continued moving slowly down the gravel road. Getting closer and closer.
Then it stopped. A cicada that had been screaming went abruptly quiet. Abby waited in the deathly silence. Sweat trickled down her temple, between her breasts.
A car door opened and closed. Footsteps sounded on loose gravel. Movement whispered through dry brush.
She held her breath.
Endless moments passed. She heard the bushes rustling.
Don’t come back here. Please, God, not back here.
Unable to contain her panicked curiosity, she maneuvered herself to peer around the pile of debris.
The deputy, an older man, had pulled himself halfway up the chain-link fence. He was looking around from his perch.
She ducked back down. The cicada began its piercing song again. A thud told her that the deputy had jumped off the fence. Seconds later, footsteps sounded again on the gravel. A car door opened and closed. It sounded like the cruiser was backing and turning. Then the steady crunch of gravel signaled that it was moving again.
Oh. My. God. Her breath whooshed out in relief.
This time on hands and knees, she crept to the other end of the pile and, back against a rotting limb, watched the cruiser drive slowly away. The deputy continued to search the woods from behind his sunglasses.
She watched until he disappeared around a small bend in the road. Heaving another sigh of relief, she sat back, exhausted, her head on her knees.
That’s when she felt it. Something crawling on her back. She twisted, one arm behind her, swatting at whatever it was.
Lots of somethings.
Ants.
Oh, crap. She grabbed her T-shirt and pulled it up in the back, reaching around to get the crawly things off.
Then she felt a sting, followed by another. Ow! She ripped the shirt off over her head as her back exploded in fire. Her hair caught in the neckband. Ow! Ow! Ow! She jerked at it, and her hair fell over her face. Stifling a cry of dismay, shoving it back out of the way, she slung the shirt to the ground and began circling, batting and brushing desperately at her back.
…
JP watched the cruiser disappear down the dirt road from his hiding place behind a huge oak. Where was Abby? The car?
He sprinted to the chain-link fence, climbed over, then listened, moving only his head, looking for any sign of her, trying not to panic.
Sweet Jesus, where was she?
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. Turning toward it, he heard a moan, and shuffling and stomping coming from behind a pile of debris. He dropped the jacket he’d removed because of the heat, pulled his Glock from its holster, and carefully, aware that anything could be making the noise, he eased around the pile.
He saw the car. Hidden. The same instant, behind it, he saw Abby.
Without a shirt on, twisting and turning, reaching for something on her back, her hair a wild tumble around her face and shoulders. She looked on the verge of a meltdown.
“Abby?” he called, jogging toward her as he holstered the gun.
She jerked her attention toward him. “Get them off, please!” She brushed desperately at her hair.
He reached her. “What?” he asked.
“Fire ants,” she said on a gasped breath. “Please. Get them off. They’re in my hair!”
She bent, flinging the tangled mess over her face, her hands frantically digging at her scalp.
Several of the insects crawled on her back. Red bites marred the smoothness of her skin.
“Hold still,” he said, sweeping them off with his hands, running his fingers along the hairline at the nape of her neck, plucking at the stragglers.
She shook her head, her fingers combing through the dark mass of her hair. Then she ran her hands down her neck and across her shoulders. Still bent at the waist, the movement nearly made her topple over.
Quickly, JP placed an arm around her middle, balancing her. “Stop,” he said. “Hold still, I’ll get them.” He brushed two ants off her lower back, then saw one dart into her hair. Holding her firmly around the waist, he plucked the offending insect from her scalp.
“Ouch!” she yelled, twisting an arm behind herself to dig under the back of her bra.
Through the sheer fabric, he saw several ants. Without hesitation, he undid the hooks of the bra and brushed them away. Three more had hidden in the straps over her shoulder. He got rid of those, too.
But she continued to run her hands through her hair.
“Hold still, let me check.”
He stepped closer, still holding her around the waist, and bent slightly over her bare back. As carefully and quickly as he could, he ran his hand through her hair, massaging her scalp. He found four more ants. By the time he finished, she was breathing hard from her struggles, but visibly relieved.
“Thank you,” she said on a sigh. “I think you got them all.”
He stood with his hips against her behind, his arm around her waist, leaning over her naked back.
Her beautifully feminine, naked back. The sight of her, the position he found himself in, aroused him instantly. No way to hide it, no way she wasn’t aware of what was happening to him. He knew the instant she realized what it was she felt.
She froze.
He told himself to step away, but was held immobile for a second. Then, he quickly removed his arm from around her. And felt her bare breasts brush against his forearm as he released her.
The desire that had been an automatic physical response became a very real hunger to touch her breasts. Taste them.
But he didn’t.
He deserved a fucking medal.
She stood and turned toward him, her hair a wild, glorious sight, one arm banded across her breasts, holding the unfastened bra to herself, pressing her full breasts upward.
It wasn’t helping.
They stared at each other for long seconds, the sounds of the hot summer morning distant.
“I’m, uh… Thank you. I…” She licked her lips.
Holy Christ.
Abby Price, sweet, fresh-faced, somebody’s mother for God’s sake, turned him on like no woman ever had. He took a step closer, certain she’d back away.
She didn’t.
She stared at him intently, her light brown eyes wide. With that same hunger.
Damn.
He gave in to temptation. He reached out and circled his fingers around one of her wrists, pulling down gently. Her arm moved, the bra she’d clung to dropped to the ground.
Her breasts were gorgeous. Full. The tips puckered.
Nonhero that he was, he ran a hand from her shoulder to her left breast, watching her the whole while. Cupping the delicious weight, he rubbed his thumb over the nipple. Once, twice.
She closed her eyes. Gave a little moan.
He lost the last battle with his conscience and pulled her against him. Her arms encircled his neck and her breasts, gloriously naked and unbound, pressed against his chest.
“Open your eyes,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She did, raising her face to him.
And he kissed her, keeping his own eyes open until the pleasure of her was too much.
He wanted. He hungered. She opened her mouth and he took possession. She ran her hands down his back, pressing herself closer. He ran his hands down to her hips, to cup her bottom, to pull her against himself.
Oh, yeah. This was pure heaven.
Chapter 10
JP was Abby’s only reality. She had to feel his skin, had to touch him. She ran frantic hands up his back, beneath his T-shirt. Sleek muscles bunched and shifted as he held her.
Suddenly, he was pulling away, yanking his holster off and dropping it to the ground, jerking his shirt over his head, and pulling her back into his embrace, pressing his bare chest against her breasts. He moaned when she ran her tongue along the inside of his lower lip, tasting tender flesh. Then he kissed her, his mouth hot and wild. She’d never felt more out of control, all thoughts blurred by the passion of the moment.
A screeching cry from above stopped them.
JP pulled that glorious mouth away from hers. A second piercing cry made him look up to the sky.
God. Even his neck was beautiful.
“Hawk,” he said softly, his lips damp, still tempting.
But the interruption had dragged her back into this world. The real world she inhabited. Where things like this didn’t happen. Where men like JP Blackmon were dangerous crusaders who did not come home to women like her.
He still held her, his bare chest against hers, and heaven help her, she wanted to stay right there. But she was suddenly aware of the friction of the hair on his chest against her breasts, too aware of his body. She couldn’t look past his shoulder. His beautiful shoulder, scarred though it was. Then her eyes moved down to the bandage across his waist.
“Don’t pull away, Abby,” he said. “Please.”
“I—” What could she say? “This isn’t me,” she said apologetically, stepping back, head bent, arms over her breasts. “I don’t know what got into me.”
But she did.
Desire. For him. For the forbidden.
He smiled. A megawatt smile that made the sun seem dim by comparison. He reached out his hand and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
She wanted to melt.
Instead, she bent and snatched her bra from the ground, then spun around and fumbled with the straps. Once she’d fastened it, she felt the brush of her T-shirt against her arm. JP was handing it to her.
Sure she would die of mortification, she quickly donned the shirt, but couldn’t bring herself to turn around.
“You’re overthinking, Abby.”
No, she wasn’t!
“Things got a little out of hand,” he said, his voice rough.
Out of hand? A little longer and she would have tossed him to the ground, ants be damned. No, out of hand was not what had just happened. Insanity had just happened.
She looked up, her eyes determinedly focused on the car he’d bought for them to get away in, intensely aware of his presence behind her.
“I’m not—” She cleared her throat. “I don’t—” Sleep with strangers.
But he wasn’t a stranger. Not anymore.
It seemed as though even the cicada chose that moment to quit singing. Silence reigned supreme.
She felt his hands on her shoulders. It took every ounce of her determination not to lean back toward him.
“I didn’t mean to let it go so far.”
She let him turn her and stared at his strong throat, unable to utter a word, when she should have told him she truly wished she had the nerve to go further.
“I’m sorry.” He said the words with real regret, then released her.
Afraid of what she’d see on his face, she hesitantly looked up.
Never expecting to see what she did.
Tenderness.
Then, with a quick look beyond her to the car, he smiled at where she’d parked it, and said, “Good thinking.”
Embarrassed and bemused, she didn’t know what to do or say. After all, she’d fully participated in the kiss. Wouldn’t have stopped. But she did have the good sense to grab the lifeline he’d thrown her. They’d ignore what just happened. She could do this.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did great,” he said, genuine praise in his voice.
And she felt another little piece of her heart melt.
…
What the hell had he been thinking, kissing her like that? JP couldn’t believe he’d given in to temptation again. Kissing Abby was such a bad idea. So insanely fantastic, but such a terrible idea.
Dropping his gun to the ground like some untrained idiot was bad enough, but even worse, what had he been thinking leaving her alone like that? Talk about bad ideas. That nosy cop could easily have found her. Would have found her if she hadn’t done some quick thinking. God knew what would have happened if she hadn’t moved the car.
That cop should not have been here. JP didn’t like it. The deputy had been looking around. Deliberately searching.
Hell. Now JP was losing it. Of course the cop had been nosing around. He was a sheriff’s deputy. That’s what they did.
Brooks could have put out a story to alert the locals, but he wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t involve civilians in the Agency’s dirty laundry. Not even cops. No, this deputy was just making his rounds. And Cal, whoever he was, had not followed them. JP was sure of that.
“What do we do now?” Abby’s question intruded on his thoughts.
She still looked embarrassed. He wished he could hug her tight and tell her not to be. He sure as hell wasn’t.
He should tell her how he felt about her. That would definitely do it—make her wary, and help her keep her distance.
Damned if he knew what he’d do if she didn’t stay away from him.
No, unfortunately, he knew exactly what he’d do…
“We should change clothes,” he said, clearing his throat.
Her eyes zeroed in on his. He almost laughed. Would have, if he’d thought she’d see the humor. “Behind the bushes.”
He could have sworn she sighed in relief.
“Then we’ll get rid of these old clothes and move on.”
“Where to?”
“I’m not sure,” he hedged. He knew very well where they were going, and what he intended to do because he had no other option. Cal and whoever sent him had made it impossible to send her back home without protection. Not until he knew the whole game and all the players. And dealt with every last one.
She studied him, and he wondered if she could sense what he planned to do.
“How are the bites?” he asked.
She blushed. “Not too bad.”
“We can pick up something for them in town. You’re not allergic, are you?”
“No,” she said and laughed, “just not fond of bugs crawling on me.”
“All right, then,” he said, with what was possibly too much enthusiasm, “let’s get the clothes from the car and change. We’ll bag what we take off and toss the things in a Dumpster somewhere.” From the look on her face, he nearly felt obligated to add that he wouldn’t touch her again. But he didn’t want to make any false promises.
He did, however, make one hundred percent sure he couldn’t see her while they changed. No point in punishing himself. But when she emerged from her clump of bushes, he couldn’t help but stare.
Nothing about her clothing could be remotely construed as provocative. Her beige shorts weren’t too short or too tight, the sleeveless white cotton top wasn’t cut too low. She wore sneakers that looked like deck shoes. She looked like the personification of fresh and wholesome.
Movies! This was what her life had become. God help her.
She bought a pair of shorts, underwear, socks, two tops, and a dufflel bag. They went next door to a convenience store to buy toiletries.
JP bought another car at a tiny used car dealership. She didn’t see him transact the final deal and pay, but he must have had enough cash to cover it. They left the dealership with her driving a sedate older Taurus. JP led the way in his truck.
Minutes later, they were on a deserted gravel road. JP pulled to the side and waited until she stopped behind him before getting out.
“There’s an abandoned clay pit at the end of this road,” he said, bending to speak to her. “I’m going to dump the truck there, in the lake. I’ll need to drive down the fence line until I can find a way to get through. Follow me, but stop when you reach the fence. I’ll walk back to you. Give me at least fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes that stretched into a lifetime, she decided after checking her watch for the hundredth time, ten minutes later. Finally, she got out of the car, too restless to sit behind the wheel any longer. He’d never said what she was supposed to do if fifteen minutes passed and he didn’t show up…
Another five minutes passed. The sun rose higher in the sky, and the temperature and humidity began to take their toll. Hot and miserable, she heard a car coming down the road to the clay pit. Frantically looking around, she saw a pile of debris, discarded lumber, and other construction material, large and small tree branches, piled high on one side of the road. Refusing to think beyond hiding, she got back in the car and drove it behind the pile, stopping when she was as sure as she could be that it couldn’t be seen from the road.
But what about JP? What if he didn’t see the car back here? Worse, what if whoever was out there saw him?
Not sure she was doing the right thing, she got out of the car, taking care not to slam the door. Ducking low, she crept close to the limbs and lumber and, heart pounding in her ears, peeked around it.
It was a sheriff’s department cruiser. Barely moving forward, the deputy inside looked from side to side, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He was searching for something. Them?
She ducked back down, looking toward the clay pit beyond the fence. Waiting. JP was late. Had the deputy seen him? Killed him?
Oh, God! She was losing it. Why would a deputy in another county, another state, want to kill JP? This man was probably out here on a totally unrelated matter. Not looking for them.
Then again, he could have been alerted by Brooks. Brooks could have told several states and counties to have their officers be on the alert for JP. For them both.
No, not for her. They didn’t know about her. Unless Brooks was the one who’d sent Cal and the men JP had killed in Ocean Springs. Which, even if she didn’t trust Brooks, sounded paranoid.
From beyond the pile of debris, the cruiser continued moving, tires making crackling noises as they rolled over loose gravel, closer and closer to the dead end at the fence.
Suddenly, she thought of something. Tracks. Damn!
He was going to see her tire tracks and follow them. JP had gone down a path along the fence line. But just now she had panicked and driven over tall grass and weeds. Why hadn’t she thought of the tracks she was leaving behind?
Because you’re a schoolteacher, not a spy.
Certain she was shaking, she glanced at her hands. No, not shaking. She heard the drone of insects all around. The cruiser continued moving slowly down the gravel road. Getting closer and closer.
Then it stopped. A cicada that had been screaming went abruptly quiet. Abby waited in the deathly silence. Sweat trickled down her temple, between her breasts.
A car door opened and closed. Footsteps sounded on loose gravel. Movement whispered through dry brush.
She held her breath.
Endless moments passed. She heard the bushes rustling.
Don’t come back here. Please, God, not back here.
Unable to contain her panicked curiosity, she maneuvered herself to peer around the pile of debris.
The deputy, an older man, had pulled himself halfway up the chain-link fence. He was looking around from his perch.
She ducked back down. The cicada began its piercing song again. A thud told her that the deputy had jumped off the fence. Seconds later, footsteps sounded again on the gravel. A car door opened and closed. It sounded like the cruiser was backing and turning. Then the steady crunch of gravel signaled that it was moving again.
Oh. My. God. Her breath whooshed out in relief.
This time on hands and knees, she crept to the other end of the pile and, back against a rotting limb, watched the cruiser drive slowly away. The deputy continued to search the woods from behind his sunglasses.
She watched until he disappeared around a small bend in the road. Heaving another sigh of relief, she sat back, exhausted, her head on her knees.
That’s when she felt it. Something crawling on her back. She twisted, one arm behind her, swatting at whatever it was.
Lots of somethings.
Ants.
Oh, crap. She grabbed her T-shirt and pulled it up in the back, reaching around to get the crawly things off.
Then she felt a sting, followed by another. Ow! She ripped the shirt off over her head as her back exploded in fire. Her hair caught in the neckband. Ow! Ow! Ow! She jerked at it, and her hair fell over her face. Stifling a cry of dismay, shoving it back out of the way, she slung the shirt to the ground and began circling, batting and brushing desperately at her back.
…
JP watched the cruiser disappear down the dirt road from his hiding place behind a huge oak. Where was Abby? The car?
He sprinted to the chain-link fence, climbed over, then listened, moving only his head, looking for any sign of her, trying not to panic.
Sweet Jesus, where was she?
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. Turning toward it, he heard a moan, and shuffling and stomping coming from behind a pile of debris. He dropped the jacket he’d removed because of the heat, pulled his Glock from its holster, and carefully, aware that anything could be making the noise, he eased around the pile.
He saw the car. Hidden. The same instant, behind it, he saw Abby.
Without a shirt on, twisting and turning, reaching for something on her back, her hair a wild tumble around her face and shoulders. She looked on the verge of a meltdown.
“Abby?” he called, jogging toward her as he holstered the gun.
She jerked her attention toward him. “Get them off, please!” She brushed desperately at her hair.
He reached her. “What?” he asked.
“Fire ants,” she said on a gasped breath. “Please. Get them off. They’re in my hair!”
She bent, flinging the tangled mess over her face, her hands frantically digging at her scalp.
Several of the insects crawled on her back. Red bites marred the smoothness of her skin.
“Hold still,” he said, sweeping them off with his hands, running his fingers along the hairline at the nape of her neck, plucking at the stragglers.
She shook her head, her fingers combing through the dark mass of her hair. Then she ran her hands down her neck and across her shoulders. Still bent at the waist, the movement nearly made her topple over.
Quickly, JP placed an arm around her middle, balancing her. “Stop,” he said. “Hold still, I’ll get them.” He brushed two ants off her lower back, then saw one dart into her hair. Holding her firmly around the waist, he plucked the offending insect from her scalp.
“Ouch!” she yelled, twisting an arm behind herself to dig under the back of her bra.
Through the sheer fabric, he saw several ants. Without hesitation, he undid the hooks of the bra and brushed them away. Three more had hidden in the straps over her shoulder. He got rid of those, too.
But she continued to run her hands through her hair.
“Hold still, let me check.”
He stepped closer, still holding her around the waist, and bent slightly over her bare back. As carefully and quickly as he could, he ran his hand through her hair, massaging her scalp. He found four more ants. By the time he finished, she was breathing hard from her struggles, but visibly relieved.
“Thank you,” she said on a sigh. “I think you got them all.”
He stood with his hips against her behind, his arm around her waist, leaning over her naked back.
Her beautifully feminine, naked back. The sight of her, the position he found himself in, aroused him instantly. No way to hide it, no way she wasn’t aware of what was happening to him. He knew the instant she realized what it was she felt.
She froze.
He told himself to step away, but was held immobile for a second. Then, he quickly removed his arm from around her. And felt her bare breasts brush against his forearm as he released her.
The desire that had been an automatic physical response became a very real hunger to touch her breasts. Taste them.
But he didn’t.
He deserved a fucking medal.
She stood and turned toward him, her hair a wild, glorious sight, one arm banded across her breasts, holding the unfastened bra to herself, pressing her full breasts upward.
It wasn’t helping.
They stared at each other for long seconds, the sounds of the hot summer morning distant.
“I’m, uh… Thank you. I…” She licked her lips.
Holy Christ.
Abby Price, sweet, fresh-faced, somebody’s mother for God’s sake, turned him on like no woman ever had. He took a step closer, certain she’d back away.
She didn’t.
She stared at him intently, her light brown eyes wide. With that same hunger.
Damn.
He gave in to temptation. He reached out and circled his fingers around one of her wrists, pulling down gently. Her arm moved, the bra she’d clung to dropped to the ground.
Her breasts were gorgeous. Full. The tips puckered.
Nonhero that he was, he ran a hand from her shoulder to her left breast, watching her the whole while. Cupping the delicious weight, he rubbed his thumb over the nipple. Once, twice.
She closed her eyes. Gave a little moan.
He lost the last battle with his conscience and pulled her against him. Her arms encircled his neck and her breasts, gloriously naked and unbound, pressed against his chest.
“Open your eyes,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She did, raising her face to him.
And he kissed her, keeping his own eyes open until the pleasure of her was too much.
He wanted. He hungered. She opened her mouth and he took possession. She ran her hands down his back, pressing herself closer. He ran his hands down to her hips, to cup her bottom, to pull her against himself.
Oh, yeah. This was pure heaven.
Chapter 10
JP was Abby’s only reality. She had to feel his skin, had to touch him. She ran frantic hands up his back, beneath his T-shirt. Sleek muscles bunched and shifted as he held her.
Suddenly, he was pulling away, yanking his holster off and dropping it to the ground, jerking his shirt over his head, and pulling her back into his embrace, pressing his bare chest against her breasts. He moaned when she ran her tongue along the inside of his lower lip, tasting tender flesh. Then he kissed her, his mouth hot and wild. She’d never felt more out of control, all thoughts blurred by the passion of the moment.
A screeching cry from above stopped them.
JP pulled that glorious mouth away from hers. A second piercing cry made him look up to the sky.
God. Even his neck was beautiful.
“Hawk,” he said softly, his lips damp, still tempting.
But the interruption had dragged her back into this world. The real world she inhabited. Where things like this didn’t happen. Where men like JP Blackmon were dangerous crusaders who did not come home to women like her.
He still held her, his bare chest against hers, and heaven help her, she wanted to stay right there. But she was suddenly aware of the friction of the hair on his chest against her breasts, too aware of his body. She couldn’t look past his shoulder. His beautiful shoulder, scarred though it was. Then her eyes moved down to the bandage across his waist.
“Don’t pull away, Abby,” he said. “Please.”
“I—” What could she say? “This isn’t me,” she said apologetically, stepping back, head bent, arms over her breasts. “I don’t know what got into me.”
But she did.
Desire. For him. For the forbidden.
He smiled. A megawatt smile that made the sun seem dim by comparison. He reached out his hand and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
She wanted to melt.
Instead, she bent and snatched her bra from the ground, then spun around and fumbled with the straps. Once she’d fastened it, she felt the brush of her T-shirt against her arm. JP was handing it to her.
Sure she would die of mortification, she quickly donned the shirt, but couldn’t bring herself to turn around.
“You’re overthinking, Abby.”
No, she wasn’t!
“Things got a little out of hand,” he said, his voice rough.
Out of hand? A little longer and she would have tossed him to the ground, ants be damned. No, out of hand was not what had just happened. Insanity had just happened.
She looked up, her eyes determinedly focused on the car he’d bought for them to get away in, intensely aware of his presence behind her.
“I’m not—” She cleared her throat. “I don’t—” Sleep with strangers.
But he wasn’t a stranger. Not anymore.
It seemed as though even the cicada chose that moment to quit singing. Silence reigned supreme.
She felt his hands on her shoulders. It took every ounce of her determination not to lean back toward him.
“I didn’t mean to let it go so far.”
She let him turn her and stared at his strong throat, unable to utter a word, when she should have told him she truly wished she had the nerve to go further.
“I’m sorry.” He said the words with real regret, then released her.
Afraid of what she’d see on his face, she hesitantly looked up.
Never expecting to see what she did.
Tenderness.
Then, with a quick look beyond her to the car, he smiled at where she’d parked it, and said, “Good thinking.”
Embarrassed and bemused, she didn’t know what to do or say. After all, she’d fully participated in the kiss. Wouldn’t have stopped. But she did have the good sense to grab the lifeline he’d thrown her. They’d ignore what just happened. She could do this.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did great,” he said, genuine praise in his voice.
And she felt another little piece of her heart melt.
…
What the hell had he been thinking, kissing her like that? JP couldn’t believe he’d given in to temptation again. Kissing Abby was such a bad idea. So insanely fantastic, but such a terrible idea.
Dropping his gun to the ground like some untrained idiot was bad enough, but even worse, what had he been thinking leaving her alone like that? Talk about bad ideas. That nosy cop could easily have found her. Would have found her if she hadn’t done some quick thinking. God knew what would have happened if she hadn’t moved the car.
That cop should not have been here. JP didn’t like it. The deputy had been looking around. Deliberately searching.
Hell. Now JP was losing it. Of course the cop had been nosing around. He was a sheriff’s deputy. That’s what they did.
Brooks could have put out a story to alert the locals, but he wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t involve civilians in the Agency’s dirty laundry. Not even cops. No, this deputy was just making his rounds. And Cal, whoever he was, had not followed them. JP was sure of that.
“What do we do now?” Abby’s question intruded on his thoughts.
She still looked embarrassed. He wished he could hug her tight and tell her not to be. He sure as hell wasn’t.
He should tell her how he felt about her. That would definitely do it—make her wary, and help her keep her distance.
Damned if he knew what he’d do if she didn’t stay away from him.
No, unfortunately, he knew exactly what he’d do…
“We should change clothes,” he said, clearing his throat.
Her eyes zeroed in on his. He almost laughed. Would have, if he’d thought she’d see the humor. “Behind the bushes.”
He could have sworn she sighed in relief.
“Then we’ll get rid of these old clothes and move on.”
“Where to?”
“I’m not sure,” he hedged. He knew very well where they were going, and what he intended to do because he had no other option. Cal and whoever sent him had made it impossible to send her back home without protection. Not until he knew the whole game and all the players. And dealt with every last one.
She studied him, and he wondered if she could sense what he planned to do.
“How are the bites?” he asked.
She blushed. “Not too bad.”
“We can pick up something for them in town. You’re not allergic, are you?”
“No,” she said and laughed, “just not fond of bugs crawling on me.”
“All right, then,” he said, with what was possibly too much enthusiasm, “let’s get the clothes from the car and change. We’ll bag what we take off and toss the things in a Dumpster somewhere.” From the look on her face, he nearly felt obligated to add that he wouldn’t touch her again. But he didn’t want to make any false promises.
He did, however, make one hundred percent sure he couldn’t see her while they changed. No point in punishing himself. But when she emerged from her clump of bushes, he couldn’t help but stare.
Nothing about her clothing could be remotely construed as provocative. Her beige shorts weren’t too short or too tight, the sleeveless white cotton top wasn’t cut too low. She wore sneakers that looked like deck shoes. She looked like the personification of fresh and wholesome.
