believed they were on Highway 290. Surely she could repeat that much before he caught on to what she was doing.
Slowly, she pushed her hand beneath the leather flap on the bag. Her fingers immediately came in contact with more leather. Her checkbook. Inching deeper, she felt the bristles of a hairbrush, a wad of crumpled tissues, a tube of lipstick.
Triumph surged through her. There it was! Then just as quickly, she mouthed a silent curse. She’d been so happy to get rid of her old, heavier phone, for the lightweight flip-top version she was clutching inside the bag. But now she desperately wished she still had the old one. It would have been much easier to handle without drawing attention to her movements.
Oh, well, she couldn’t be stopped by trivial hurdles now, she mentally scolded herself. She had to try. She couldn’t let this maniac or whatever he was take her into a secluded wilderness.
Slowly, carefully, she used the tips of her fingers to tug the phone just to the edge of the flap covering the opening of the purse. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was so dry her tongue felt like a thick blob. Twice during her effort, she cast furtive glances at the man who’d called himself Larkin. Both times he was looking straight ahead, seemingly preoccupied with thoughts of his own.
Now was the moment, she silently coached herself. Flip the phone open and push the last digit on the third line, the first digit twice.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The unexpected sound of his gruff voice caused Blossom’s whole body to jerk, sending the bag in her lap sliding to the floorboard. Immediately his eyes zeroed in on the phone in her hand and he mouthed a searing curse word.
“I’m calling the police,” she shouted defiantly. “You’re not going to take me anywhere!”
His hand lunged for the phone and ripped it from her grip.
Seeing the device as her last link to safety, Blossom cried out in horror, then, throwing herself at him, she began to pummel his arm and shoulder with her fists.
“Give me that phone—you crazy man!”
The truck swerved wildly from one side of the highway to the other as he tried to ward off her attack. In the back of her mind, Blossom realized she was probably going to make him wreck the vehicle, but at this point she didn’t care. Dying in a car accident would be preferable to being murdered, tortured or both.
“Stop it, damn it! Before you kill us both!” he yelled.
“Give me the phone!”
With one hand he managed to shove her across the seat toward the passenger door. Before she could make another lunge at him, he jammed the brakes on and brought the truck to a jarring halt on the side of the road.
Without the restraint of the seat belt to hold her down, Blossom went flying toward the windshield and only managed to stop her head from whamming into the glass at the very last second.
By the time she’d collected herself, Larkin had rolled down the window and was about to make a fast ball out of the telephone.
“No! You can’t!”
Shrieking now, she threw her whole body at him. But her efforts were too little, too late. The telephone went flying out into the hot night.
Yet even in defeat, Blossom continued to strike her fists against him. She wasn’t going down without a fight. Not by a long shot.
It wasn’t until he had her confined in the tight circle of his arms that he realized she wasn’t just fighting him over a cellular phone. She was frightened and fighting for her life.
“Blossom! Stop it!” he ordered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She went instantly still, her body stiff and rigid in his arms, her breasts heaving against his chest.
“Then—why don’t you—let me go?” she asked as she gulped in deep breaths of air.
In the blink of an eye, his rigid features softened. “Because it’s too dangerous. I—have to take care of you now.”
Confusion crumpled her features and then her body sagged against his. The contact was as startling as it was comforting. Instantly, she was acutely aware of his dark face hovering over hers, the hard expanse of his chest against her breasts, the utterly male scent of his skin and hair enveloping her in an erotic fog. His hands were hot on the flesh of her back, yet she welcomed the heat, the sizzling excitement his touch was bringing her.
A fleeting recollection of something she’d read dashed through her mind. Something about fighting being closely akin to having sex. Well, at this very moment she believed the notion to be true. Her eyes were riveted to the curve of his lips while a strange need gripped her lower belly.
“I—don’t—understand,” she whispered.
“It isn’t necessary for you to understand, Blossom. Just trust me.”
With each spoken word, his lips drew closer until finally Blossom realized that as far as she was concerned, common sense, fear or trust were no longer issues. She had to kiss this man or die from the wanting.
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