It’s Christmas Eve and Rory Andrews is desperate to get home to the family she hasn’t seen in years. Problem is, her only ride to Lake Tahoe comes in the form of the annoyingly handsome Max Stranton, and his big, goofy, lovable dog Carl.
Hours stuck in a truck with the dead sexy Max sounds like a fate worse than death (not), but Rory’s out of options. She’s had a crush on Max since high school and she knows he’s attracted to her, too. But they have history… and Max is the only one who knows why it went south.
They’ve done a good job of ignoring their chemistry so far, but a long road trip in a massive blizzard might be just what they need to face their past… and one steamy, snowy night is all it takes to bring Max and Rory together at last.
When Rory came out of the woods, Max really wanted not to care that she was wearing more snow than clothes and shivering, but he couldn’t do it. He watched while with shaking hands she carefully shook off before climbing into the truck. Then she stripped out of her jacket that clearly wasn’t waterproof.
This left her in a soft off-white sweater that was damp and clinging to her like a second skin. She wore a white lace bra, also damp, and not doing much to hide the fact that she truly was cold. And he was absolutely concentrating on that and how she looked like she needed a hot cheeseburger, and not her nipples, two hard little beads threatening to poke through both the lace and the material of her sweater.
Had he thought of her as the sweet, girl-next-door type? Maybe if the girl next door was pinup material, because damn. Sitting there with her long waves clinging to her face and shoulders and chest, giving him peekaboo glimpses of her perfect breasts, he couldn’t remember why he didn’t like her and didn’t want to like her.
“What?” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “You’ve never seen cold nipples before?”
Yes, but not ones that made his mouth water to taste. Kiss. Nibble. Suck into his mouth… “Did you see any bears?”
Rolling her eyes, she pulled a hair tie from around her wrist and used it to contain the wet mass of waves on top of her head.
He handed her a towel, but she shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, if fine is drenched and cold,” he said. “Take it. It’s not the same one I used on Carl.”
“I wouldn’t care about that,” she said. “But you might have to stop and put on chains soon and you’ll need a towel for yourself.”
“We’re not going to need chains,” he said. “I’m in four-wheel drive and we’ve got good tires. Now use the damn towel, you’re dripping all over the place.”
As he knew it would, this galvanized her into action and she ran the towel over herself in jerky motions. When she was done, she was still shivering, and after a hesitation, she pulled off her damp sweater.
This left her in a white camisole and aforementioned white lace bra, neither of which were all that significant.
“You going to stare at me all night or get us back on the road?” she asked coolly.
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill Shalvis lives in a small town in the Sierras full of quirky characters. Any resemblance to the quirky characters in her books is, um, mostly coincidental. Look for Jill’s sexy contemporary and award-winning books wherever romances are sold and click on the blog button above for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-mountains adventures.