not wanting to appear flustered or worried, even though she was a mass of churning emotion inside. She’d learned long ago how to bury her feelings beneath a calm, icy shield of indifference, which had been the only way to deal with her father’s tyrannical rule while growing up. Though it’d been years since Chelsea had lived under his roof, some habits had become so deeply ingrained, it seemed it would take a lifetime to unlearn them.
Then again, she hadn’t tried very hard to change, always finding it easier to avoid uncomfortable encounters simply by making it obvious that she wanted to be left alone.
But she hadn’t been left alone tonight, and her worry and frustration were getting the better of her, to the point that anger rode the flushed surface of her body like a second skin. It was evident in her posture and her expression, and then she’d gone and actually shot the illustrious “bird” at this dark-haired stranger in a purely reckless display of temper. That was something she’d never done before…and would hopefully never do again.
The only thing that made her momentary loss of dignity bearable was the fact that the fascinating tower of maleness standing there, watching her, had obviously never mastered the art of masking his own reactions. From the moment she’d rolled down her window, emotions had been flitting across his rugged features like a montage of images flashed across a movie screen. Frustration. Shock. Irritation. Maybe even a touch of loneliness. They were all there, as well as something that looked surprisingly like lust. His glittering gray eyes had gone wide, then heavy, until she could barely see the mesmerizing color through the inky black weight of his lashes.
He was too tall, too rugged, and too damn good-looking, and he probably knew it. Add to that the obvious fact that he held some sort of position of authority in this area, and Chelsea knew he was the kind of guy she normally went out of her way to avoid. Of course, the last time she’d seen her sister, Perry had accused her of avoiding all men, making the snide assessment that she should either go lesbian or resign herself to being alone for the rest of her life. She’d told her sister to mind her own business, then changed the subject, but Perry’s words had stayed with her, proving difficult to forget.
As a modern, educated woman, Chelsea knew, deep down, that her cool attitude toward the opposite sex had been born from a soul-deep fear of ever becoming like her mother. Perry had dealt by immersing herself in the party scene, earning a reputation as the girl who would try anything at least once, whereas Chelsea had simply closed down, withdrawing, just like an oyster hiding within its shell. Despite her worldly views, she had little experience when it came to male animals, especially ones like the hunk standing so close to her bus…staring at her as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to strangle her or eat her alive. His warm, utterly male scent, a seductive blend of heat and spice and the outdoors, was actually causing drool to collect in the corners of her mouth.
Amazing.
The whole “mouthwatering” reaction never happened to her, unless she was confronted by the scent of fresh baked brownies or watching a Gerard Butler movie. Despite her skeptical attitude toward the male species, even Chelsea had found herself a victim of the Scotsman’s compelling sexuality.
But Butler had nothing on this guy. A quick flick of a glance over his body revealed a physique that was long and lean and powerfully muscled. The kind of body that would be hard and hot to the touch. That would ripple with muscle as he moved over a woman…as he moved inside her. Hard and deep and fast. Then hard and deep and…deliberately slow.
Giving herself a sturdy mental shake, Chelsea fought the urge to fan her face, and struggled to get her mind out from between the sheets and back on important things, like staying alive and finding her sister. But that was proving decidedly difficult to do, seeing as how she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. God, what was happening to her? Were her hormones revolting, demanding satisfaction after being bludgeoned into submission for so many years? And if so, the timing couldn’t be worse. Why now?
Unfortunately, she had a feeling the answer to that question was staring her right in the face.
Okay, so he wasn’t her type, but he was certainly a pretty piece of eye candy, if one went for the rugged, alpha breed of male, complete with bulging muscles, tattoos and faded scars. Which she didn’t, she reminded herself, while her body reached supernova levels of heat in an embarrassing, shocking, completely unforgivable act of betrayal.
His hard, sleekly muscled physique attested to what had to be an athletic lifestyle. Even his forearms were marked by ropey muscles and lean lines of sinew, his dark body hair lying flat against the deep, sun-darkened color of his skin. Without doubt, he was the most masculine thing Chelsea had ever set eyes on. He belonged here in the wild, rugged terrain of the forest, as if he were a part of it, completely at home within its primitive landscape.
As she watched him, he flexed his big hands at his sides, like he was working out a cramp, his arms rigid, powerful biceps stretching the seams of his black T-shirt. A fierce wave of tension emanated from him, blasting against her face like a hot wind.
And yet, despite the predatory intensity that surrounded him, all but oozing from his pores, she didn’t fear him. Was the gun in her lap giving her a false sense of safety? Somehow, she didn’t think so. Chelsea knew how she should be feeling, but there was something in his expression—something dark and uncomfortable—that said he was as wary of her as she was of him, and it bolstered her battered sense of security.
“Well?” she snapped, relieved by the waspish sound of her voice, having been half afraid she might actually purr at him when she finally located her ability to speak.
“Well what?” His voice was hard, deliciously deep and roughened around the edges.
She fought the temptation to roll her eyes, thinking they certainly grew them breathtakingly big around here, not to mention gorgeous, but obviously not too bright. “What. Do. You. Want?” she asked slowly, enunciating each word with patronizing precision.
He blinked, and then the corner of his mouth suddenly twitched, and a smooth spill of surprise warmed her insides at the fact that he’d reacted to her sarcastic tone with humor, rather than anger. Not that she wanted him angry, mind you.
No, all she wanted was for him to leave her alone, so that she could get some sleep, and then get on with her search…while doing her best to forget this fluttery feeling he’d put in her belly. It felt good, damn it—dangerously good—and that made her more nervous than his primal intensity ever could. Sexual desire was a dangerous trap that couldn’t be trusted any more than the male species could be. She had to find some way to ignore it, no matter how good the rush in her pulse felt, as if she were stretching to awareness after a long, heavy slumber.
Part of her wanted to shout So this is what it’s all about!—while the other part snarled For the love of God, what kind of idiot starts thinking about having sex with a total, behemoth-size stranger?
Apparently her kind, she realized, since she couldn’t get the thought out of her head of what it’d be like to be covered by this sexy-as-hell hunk.
Thunder suddenly rumbled in the distance, signaling an approaching storm, bringing with it the crisp scent of rain. Chelsea glanced toward the swollen sky, and then softly, in a tone completely unlike her, she heard herself say, “It looks like a storm’s coming. You wanted to talk, so talk, before it starts to rain.”
He looked up, staring at the sky…at the moon, and when he lowered his head, once again trapping her in the piercing intensity of his stare, the look in his eyes burned even brighter, as though that silver gaze was somehow glowing, fired with heat from within. Glowing eyes? She blinked, shaking her head, knowing she needed more sleep. God,
