her attractiveness did not end there. Tall and willowy, she was nonetheless curved in all the right places, with softly swelling breasts, a slender waist and sleekly proportioned hips.
The intricately beaded bodice of her off-the-shoulder white satin wedding gown revealed a graceful neck and elegant shoulders just right for kissing, and a collarbone that was, Sam admitted on a wave of uncensored desire, unspeakably sexy. It was a good thing she was already spoken for and he didn’t believe in love at first sight, Sam thought on a wistful sigh, because if he did…he’d be tempted to whisk her away himself.
Unless… Sam stared at the woman in front of him.
No. It couldn’t be, he reassured himself firmly. This woman couldn’t in any way be connected to his brother, Gus, could she?
Irked that he might have been having libidinous thoughts about his future sister-in-law, Sam glanced out the plate-glass windows of the deserted lobby and worked to calm his pounding heart. Though he could see other cars slowly moving on the freeway beyond, there was only one other car in the parking lot in front of the comfort station, aside from his own black-and-white sheriff’s four-wheel-drive vehicle. And that was a Volvo station wagon, which could not possibly have been Gus’s, since Gus would never be caught dead in such a practical car. Gus much preferred his Lamborghini. Plus, Gus was from New York City, not Pennsylvania.
Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he turned back to the bride. Maybe this woman had nothing to do with his brother after all. Deeply ingrained manners dictating his actions, he swept off his snow-dusted Stetson hat and held it against his chest. He met her eyes. Damned, if she didn’t have the most beautiful eyes and the softest lips he’d ever seen. “Ma’am.”
She lifted her head and simultaneously jerked in a breath that told him she was every bit as electrifyingly aware of him as he was of her. “Hello,” she murmured in a cordial, throaty whisper.
“Are you on your way to or from your wedding?” Sam inquired, with an easy grace meant to put her immediately at ease.
She slanted him a wary glance as she sat down on a wooden bench in the lobby, hiked up her skirt a foot off the floor and dutifully exchanged a pair of wet white satin high heels for a pair of sturdy dark green rubber galoshes. “Neither, actually. The wedding’s been called off,” she said in a low tone.
“On account of the weather,” Sam guessed, his heart pounding at the brief glimpse of her spectacular stocking-clad legs.
She hesitated, for a moment seeming almost relieved, but said only, “It’s complicated.” She nodded at the bulletin board next to the floor-to-ceiling map of West Virginia that had been provided by the state to help tourists find their way. “What was that notice you were posting just now?” she asked.
Sam noted that she suddenly looked a little nervous—as she should be, given the weather. Especially if she was, as he was beginning to sense, running away from something. Like maybe the groom she’d been supposed to marry today…?
“It’s a travelers’ advisory, from the National Weather Service,” Sam told her, stepping a little closer. “We’re closing down the interstate, and asking everyone to take shelter as soon as possible.” He’d already been advised to be on the lookout for a schoolteacher and seven schoolchildren, last seen near the Virginia–West Virginia border. And there were reports of a young mother and a baby from Maryland being tracked down, too.
The bride bit her lower lip and cast a wary look at the dark gray sky. “It’s going to be that bad?”
Sam nodded gravely. “It already is, in the mountains one hundred miles south of here, next to the North Carolina border.”
“When’s the storm likely to hit here?” she asked, her green eyes darkened with concern. “Full force, I mean.”
Sam glanced back at the snow, which was coming down in steady but moderate fashion. “It’ll increase gradually during the next few hours, with maybe three to four inches on the ground at sunset. The forecasters expect it to snow steadily through out the night. By morning, we should be really socked in.”
Her slender shoulders sagged at the news.
Figuring this was not the first bit of bad news she’d had today, Sam felt his heart go out to her, and he hastened to reassure her. “The next exit is about five miles up the interstate from here. There are four hotels, two gas stations and several fast-food restaurants there. Last I heard, a few minutes ago, they still had rooms available. It’s not a bad place to seek shelter, and I’m sure you’ll be quite comfortable.”
“And it’s right off the interstate?” she asked in consternation.
“Yes,” Sam retorted helpfully, though why that should bother her, he didn’t know.
She bit her lip and gathered her skirts in her hand in order to rise. “I see.”
For some reason Sam could not understand, the convenient location did not seem to please her. He stepped a little closer and offered her a hand. “Listen, I hate to rush you, but given the increasing slipperiness of the roads, you and your groom should really be on your way,” Sam said.
“I don’t have a groom with me,” she announced, with equal parts truculence and relief, as she slid her slender hand in his.
“You’re here alone?” Sam asked, stunned, as she rose gracefully to her feet.
“Completely,” she admitted, with a beleaguered sigh and no small amount of chagrin, as she removed her hand from his.
As the two of them stood facing each other, it was all Sam could do not to shake his head. If she was his woman, she wouldn’t be running around alone—in her wedding dress—in this weather! If she was his woman, he’d see she was protected, no matter what. Especially on what was supposed to have been her wedding day. And the same went for his sister, or daughter… Where the heck were this woman’s family and friends? Her maid of honor?
Her eyes lifted to his. She seemed to intuit what he was thinking but not to want to dwell on it. “Look, for obvious reasons, I really need to get out of this dress,” she told him, fixing him in her sights with a pretty smile and an airy wave of her ringless left hand. “Normally, I wouldn’t ask a complete stranger for assistance, but since I’m here by myself and the weather is not really conducive to satin and you are an officer of the law…”
Sam paused as his eyes locked with hers, his heart pounding against his ribs. “You want me to give you a hand?” he asked, a little hesitantly.
“Just with the zipper,” she con firmed, her cheeks flushing self-consciously. “I can’t see it, but it seems to be stuck.” Her satin skirts rustling provocatively, she turned around in a drift of perfume, impatiently offering him her slender back. “If you could just get it started for me,” she urged him anxiously, “I’m sure I can handle the rest.”
“No problem,” Sam murmured. Despite the easy disclaimer, his throat was as dry as the Sahara as he stepped forward to assist her. This was harder than she could imagine, but not for the reasons she’d think, Sam thought as he tried, ever so gently, to work the twisted bit of satin out of the teeth of the zipper without ripping the fine fabric. Normally, he could unkink a jammed zipper in record time. Suddenly, he was all thumbs, as he tried once again to get a better grip and wound up, instead, coming in brief, mesmerizing contact with her silky skin. And she seemed to be trembling, whether from the cold or from the inadvertent brush of his hands against
