Catch Me If You Can (8 page)

Her hand was on the door handle, only she didn’t open it. He was holding the broom in a frozen death grip, only he made no move toward the wall of snow encasing the rear end of the car.

“
You should get out of the cold,” he said, after the silence had spun out far too long.

“So should you.”

“If I don’t clear the tailpipe, we won’t have any heat.”

Her smile curved in a way that could only be described as wicked. His body was more than responsive. In fact, he didn’t so much mind the numb parts any longer. As long as that one part had life i
n it, that was all that apparentl
y mattered.

“Something tells me we’d manage,” she said, then opened the door.

For all that Tag rarely, if ever, felt dull-witted or slow, he felt very much of both at the moment. She had presented him with a perfect opportunity, and he’d squandered the moment with inane talk of snow removal. Serve him right to sleep cramped in the front seat. An adventure that would be even more uncomfortable in his current state.

She began to unfasten her jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought it might be smart to brush all the snow off and stow it above the backseat. Didn’t want to get your car any more damp than necessary.” She quickly slid out of the jacket, shivering as she quickly smacked at the snow crystals coa
ti
ng the collar and shoulders.

“Here, let me do that. You go on and get in.” He didn’t let her argue, but took the coat and opened the door.

She smiled over her shoulder. “Used to giving orders are you?”

Now it was his turn to smile. “You might say that.”

“Well then, there’s something we have in common.” She turned and propped an arm on the open door, as if the sun were shining and snow wasn’t fast collecting on her shoulders. “Do people generally jump when you bark a command?”

He merely continued to smile, then said, “You’re getting snow on your sweater.”

“Well, then, I suppose I’ll just have to take that off too, won’t I?”

Yep, his body was definitely on board with wherever she wanted to steer it. “Are you always so stubborn?” He’d almost said stunning.

“Somehow I think that might be another shared character trait.”

“Well, as much as I might enjoy seeing ju
st how far you’d go with this, I only arrived in Scotl
and this morning. I really don’t want to start my trip by explaining to local law officials why I ha
ve the frozen corpse of a half-
naked woman laying next to my car.”

Her eyebrow
lifted. “Only half-naked? Hmm. I
might have misjudged you after all.”

It had already occurred to Tag that this was possibly the oddest conversation he’d ever had with a woman, or anyone for that matter. Which, considering he’d once talked himself out of being the dinner entree for an
aboriginal tribal chief, was saying something. He nodded to the backseat. “You’re letting snow into my car.”

“So I am,” she said, then sighed and shook her head. “Alright then, since you’re being such a Good Samaritan, and in the spirit of welcoming you to our bonny shores, I suppose I should play nice. It’s just that it’s been a simply dreadful day and for some reason, you’re fun to play with.”

Tag chuckled at that, and without thinking about possible repercussions, reached out and tugged her cap free. A coil of dark, springy hair uncoiled to her shoulders.

She arched a brow in reaction, but said nothing.

He slapped the
tassled wool cap on his jeans. “
Just getting the snow off your hat.”

“Ah,” she said with a brief smile. She took the hat from him but didn’t get in the car right away.

“Now you’re just getting snow in your hair.”

She regarded him for another long minute, then said, “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll brush it off.” She glanced down, then back up. “You look like you have nice hands.”

That choked a surprise laugh out of him. She’d gone from flirting innuendo to a no-nonsense invitation in less than five minutes. It should have turned him off. He wasn’t much for pushy women. But there was something about her that made him think she wasn’t quite the aggressor she was making herself out to be. Maybe something having to do with that bad day she’d mentioned. “Are you always so forward with men you meet on the side of the road?”

“Never,” she stated, easily and quite unequivocally. She wrinkled her nose a little. “Interesting, isn’t it?” Interesting indeed, Tag thought. And interested. Because he was definitely interested.

She finally moved to duck inside the car. He reached out reflexively and brushed the snow from her hair,
making her pause, then turn back again. His gloved hand drifted to her cheek, then her chin.

She looked him steadily in the eye as she leaned toward him. And he held that gaze as he slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

Her lips were cold, or maybe it was just that his own were frozen. And yet just one soft kiss managed to heat him up quite nicely.

“And that was for?” she managed, when he lifted his head and let his hand drop away.

He shrugged, smiled. “You looked like you had nice lips. Turns out I was right.”

She just laughed as she finally slid into the car. “Let me know if you want your engine started,” she said as she pulled the door shut behind her.

“Oh, I think you’ve already taken care of that, thanks,” he murmured under his breath as he moved to the rear end of the car.

He began the arduous task of clearing snow with a broom, and realized that despite the fact that he was stranded in the middle of God knew where, freezing his ass
off in a Highland snowstorm…
he was grinning like an idiot.

He even started to whistl
e.
A bonny welcome indeed.

Chapter 6

A
s soon as he moved toward the back of the car, Maura slumped bac
k in the seat and let out a sur
prised laugh. “And just what was that you were doing out there?” she asked herself, a disbelieving smile curving her lips. She sighed and let her head drop back, closing her eyes and daring herself not to replay the last ten minutes over in her mind.

That hadn’t really been her out there. Maura Sinclair, independent woman, and all around smart girl. Smart girls didn’t flirt with strange men, much less goad them into stealing a kiss. And they certainly didn’t carry on while stranded in a snowstorm with no hope of escape. For all she knew he was a serial killer, come to
Scotl
and to skip out on being executed back in the States.

She snorted at her flight of fancy. “You’ve definitely got to stop reading thrillers past midnight.” She craned her neck and peered out of the rapidly fogging windows. She was unable to see him, but she could hear him digging and rooting about.

He’d seemed like a good sort. Of course she was inclined to believe so considering the liberties she’d all
but encouraged him to take, wasn’t she? Besides, what were the odds she’d have an accident and get stranded with an axe murderer anyway?

He had a nice voice. And kind eyes. A rationalization perhaps, but true enough. Even in the gloom, she’d been struck by that right off. And yet there’d been something more. Even when he’d smiled and his eyes had crinkled at the corners, there had been a certain intensity. Observant was the word that came to mind. And yet she’d felt no sense of threat. Maybe because it had been that very element that had attracted her to him in the first place.

Because she certainly hadn’t come on to him just because he’d been there. It had been a bad day or two, no doubt, but that had
n’t compelled her to suddenly th
row herself at every man who strayed into her path. And men had stared intently at her before, but there was usually an element of tongue lolling to it that immediately left her cold. Not this man. He didn’t stare so much as study. Yes,
that was it. He’d been quite…
aware. She shivered, and it wasn’t entirely because the air inside the car was almost as cold as the air outside.

It really wasn’t like her to shamelessly flirt like that, even with a bloke she’d had her eye on for some length of time. Of course, in the past forty-eight hours she’d certainly witnessed her share of out-of-the-ordinary behavior, hadn’t she? Perhaps she just wanted to give it a go herself. No one could blame her.

She sighed again, but this time there was more an air of defeat in it. She didn’t want to think about coming back from town yesterday morning to find
…
well, what she’d found. Much less dwell on what Jory and Priss might well be doing at this very moment. And her meet
ing with Wentworth had done littl
e to lift her spirits. As it happened he hadn’t been able to see her any
earlier today, and she’d only caught Val in time to learn she was off spending the night out with her new boyfriend. At least she’d still offered up her couch so Maura hadn’t had to pay for a room on top of it all. The whole trip had been a colossal waste of time. And for her trouble, her reward had been a blown tire and a near-death experience.

That last part alone might possibly explain her brief display of promiscuity out there. It wasn’t every day she got to watch her entire life flash before her eyes. Complete with a few scenes from yesterday she could have definitely gone without reliving.

“So, in summary,” she stated aloud, tickin
g off the list on her fingers, “
You’ve lost both your lover, and your best friend; gotten dismal news from the land agent; come an inch or two away from dying; and stranded yourself in a snowstorm,
with no hope of rescue.” Honestl
y, put like that, it was amazing she hadn’t jumped him, really.

Could anyone blame her if she indulged in some torrid, tawdry lit
tl
e one-night stand? She folded her arms more snugly around he
r, trying to ward off the bone-
seeping chill inside the car. Hardly, she thought, starting to feel a bit righteous about the whole thing now. He was a tourist, passing through. The perfect man, reall
y. And she could give him a littl
e Highland fling that would have him f
ondly recalling his trip to Scotl
and for many years to come. An all around win-win situation. And Lord knows she could use one of those right about now.

The sudden rapping on the roof of the car made her jump and let out a squeal of surprise. She spun around to find her future partner in gratuitous sex motioning her to start the engine. Her cheeks warmed as she peered at him through the fogged window, wondering
what he’d think if he knew the plans she’d been sitting here rationally making. Of course, she had given him several broad hints already.

He motioned again and she quickly turned her attention to the matter at hand. There’d be plenty of time for the other as soon as they got the heat working again. She’d been about to lean over the seat to reach the keys when she realized it wasn’t an automatic. She’d have to get in the front seat so she could reach the clutch. She debated getting out and going around, but rather than face the cold wind and snow, she opted to just crawl over.

After a few minutes, much swearing, and an altercation with the stick shift that was definitely going to leave a mark, she managed to arrange herself in the driver’s seat with a fair level of aplomb. When she finally dared look out the window, fully expecting to find him laughing, she was relieved to note he was already back by the rear of the car, apparently wanting to make sure the tunnel he’d dug around the pipe held up.

She depressed the clutch and turned the key, doubly relieved when the car started without so much as a hiccup. The air that belched out of the vents was cold, though, and she snatched her hands off the steering wheel and tucked them in her armpits.

Then he was there, tapping on her window, mouthing something she couldn’t make out when the windows swiftly fogged over as the fans kept pumping out cold air. She started to lower the window, but the snow had edged up the glass and would likely cave in all over her if she did.

Which left her with the option of motioning him to get in the back—thereby giving up any chance she had of reclining with leg room—or moving across the stick shift to the passenger s
eat. Or attempting the ever-so-
graceful crawling back over the seat maneuver. Thankfully
he kept her from having to decide by rounding the front of the car and climbing in front next to her.

“God, I’m frozen through and through,” he muttered as he quickly closed the door behind him. He’d already peeled out of his coat, which he stowed on the front dash, to the side of the vents, then he shifted so his back was to her. “Don’t take this the wrong way.” He gripped the back of his sweater and pulled it over his head, revealing a white T-shirt. Which came off immediately thereafter.

“Not that I’m minding the show,” she said, which was most certainly the truth. He virtually filled the car. Or so it seemed to her. She hadn’t remembered him as being so tall. Or wide. Perhaps it was the tight quarters making him appear more so. She’d certainly never have assumed his shoulders were so broad. Or that he was so deeply bronzed. Even in the dark she could tell his skin was a great deal darker than her own.

As he leaned forward to tug his T-shirt out of his pants, her gaze dipped downward, whereupon she learned another interesting fact. He was apparently tan all over. She swallowed hard. “What exac
tl
y are you doing?”

All too soon that fine expanse of muscled back was once again covered up as he quickly yanked his sweater back on. He turned around and shrugged back into his coat. “I figured we should tie something to the antenna. As a warning.”

She nodded to the shirt in his hand. “I’m not sure white is the way to go.” She smiled, unable, it seemed, to keep her mouth shut for more than five seconds when she was around him. “Although if you’re wanting to discuss terms of
surrender…
”

Even in the dark she had no problem making out his broad grin. “Hold that thought,” he told her, then bailed out of the car, quickly closing the door behind him.

Her
heart
tripped over itself. Had he really j
ust said—

“Och, what are you doing here, Maura girl?” But she was already leaning forward and rubbing a spot on the windshield, trying to clear the fog so she could watch him. But the fog was actually caused by the snow piling up on the outside of the glass. She fumbled a bit around the steering wheel until she found the knob she was looking for. Only to hear a yelp from outside before the blades had finished two complete swoops.

“What are you doing!
” came his shout.

She immediately flipped the knob back off, then glanced through the now clear windshield. He’d been tying the shirt to the top of the antenna
…
which put his stomach in direct line of where the wiper blades had deposited most of the snow. “I’m sorry,” she called out, not sure if he could hear her.

He said nothing, but when he got done tying the shirt, he turned and stalked off, quickly disappearing into the swirl of the night storm. “Where are you bloody going?” she called out, knowing he couldn’t hear her. The whip of the wind tossed the T-shirt about, catching her eye. It was then she realized that it wasn’t a whole T-shirt any longer. How the hell had he torn the thing? With his teeth?

She shivered a little again. And again it had nothing to do with the cold. Of course, she might have just blown any chance she had with the guy. Not that there was much they could do in the close confines of the tiny car anyway. Besides, she hadn’t been much for backseat wrestling as a teenager, and no matter how bad the past few days had been, she sure as hell wasn’t horny enough to cram her body—

Just then the door was yanked open and he climbed back in, bringing a swirl of snow inside the car with him, and all over her. Something she now realized he’d been careful not to do the first time around. She supposed she deserved it.

In the narrow pool of overhead light, she watched as he doffed his coat once again and hung it around the back of the seat. Only this time she didn’t have to imagine what his body looked like beneath that worn sweater. The light blinked off as she was squeezing her
th
ighs together at the mere thought of him stripping again. She
couldn’t help but wonder what th
e front of him
looked like. Was he truly golden…
all over?

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t wanti
ng to t
ry full-out shagging in such a ti
ny space. But she might be up for a bit of snogging in one. He was a good kisser, that she already knew, even from that brief brush of lips.

His hair was a shaggy mop of dark curls, which had been one of the first things she’d noticed about him, and had found herself surprisingly attracted to. She typically went more for the well-groomed, which did limit her choices around home, what with most of the men being farm lads or construction workers of some sort. Still, there was a difference in being a bit moppish and the shag of curls this man sported.

Of course, the farm lads did have a boundless enthusiasm when it came to sex—likely being around all those barnyard animals and seeing nature take its course as a purely natural thing. But she noted that outside of bed, conversations didn’t go much beyond the latest technique in sheep shearing. And though she wasn’t much for long-term arrangements, she did want her relationships, however long, to engage both brain and body. Which of course didn’t begin to explain Jory’s presence in her life for the past six months. Apparently she wasn’t immune to that baby-of-the-family charm of his either.

But Jory had been natty about his appearance. Something about this one’s shaggy curls had struck her differen
tl
y, though. Maybe it was that awareness in his gaze she’d noted earlier. The overhead light had stayed on lone enough to illuminate other details she hadn’t picked
up the first time around. His hair wasn’t nearly as dark as she’d thought. In fact, it was a heavily sun-bleached brown if she wasn’t mistaken. Had she found herself the stereotypical California surfer boy, then?

He certainly fit the physical mold. Yet, that intensity of his, along with the educated pattern to his speech, said otherwise. There was a brain beneath that mop of curls, she’d bet on it. Lord knows her libido already had.

“Where’s your coat?” he asked her, shifting so he faced her.

She would have answered him, but she was too busy staring at his neck. Even with the brief flash of light, her eyes had long since acclimated to the dark. Enough that, at this close range anyway, she could more than make out the shape,
or she should say shapes, tightl
y circling his neck. Even the gloom couldn’t disguise the long pointy teeth, interspersed with what looked like short, skinny bones, all woven into some kind of choker.

Not an axe murderer,
she thought.
Just a cannibal.

He smiled then, his own teeth a white beacon in the dark. A slash against his tanned skin, which sent a thrill coursing through her that was only par
tl
y fear.