After changing her shoes, she rummaged in the glove box, whispering a fervent "thank goodness" when she found a flashlight. She climbed out of the car and went in search of GI Joe.
She found him stretched out on the ground in a sleeping bag and she stopped in her tracks, staring down at him in disbelief. "You're gonna just go to sleep?"
"Yeah. I'm beat. Get that damn light out of my eyes."
She ran it down the length of his sleeping bag, thinking how warm it looked. "What about me?"
"I didn't know you were coming along for the ride when I packed, did I, sugar britches? But you're welcome to join me in my bag."
For one heart-stopping instant she was seriously tempted, remembering the heat he'd generated during the brief moment she'd spent in his arms. She was cold , darn it, and he'd been as toasty as a convection oven on baking day.
But she wasn't so cold that she didn't know climbing into a sleeping bag built for one with Zach Taylor would be a huge mistake. Against all reason, given his insulting behavior, the man generated some serious chemistry with her. "Is there a blanket I can use?"
"There might be one in the back of the Jeep."
"You could have said so right away." Mumbling about inconsiderate men who kept women standing around freezing while they were nice and cozy, she made her way to the back of the vehicle and felt as if she'd struck gold when she located a thick fleece blanket. Wrapping it around her, she went back to stand over Zach. "I need to wash my face."
"You'll find a water jug back in the cargo space."
She shivered at the thought of using cold water. "It needs to be warm ."
His big shoulders moved beneath the bag. "Pans and the camp stove are back there, too. Knock yourself out."
Blowing out a disgruntled breath, she turned back to the Jeep, stopping on the way to fish a stick out of her sandal. The stove he'd mentioned wasn't like anything she'd ever seen; a regular camp stove she at least might have figured how to use. This one was little more than a propane canister with a pump and a ring. She gave up on the idea of hot water and slathered her face with moisturizer instead, wiping it off with a tissue in hopes of removing her makeup.
She was returning her toothbrush to her train case when she spotted Zach's duffel. She reached out and pulled it to her, then guiltily dropped her hand to her side. But guilt didn't stand up against a skinny little cashmere sweater that wasn't designed to resist more than a summer evening breeze. She'd bet Mr. Preparedness owned something more appropriate for spring nights in the mountains. She grabbed the duffel bag, slammed the cargo door, then climbed into the backseat of the Jeep. She'd been a good girl who'd played by the rules—and just look where that had gotten her.
The first thing she did after settling in was lock all the doors. She recognized a horror flick situation in the making when she saw one, and she did not intend to be one of those stupid heroines who left herself wide open to a knife-wielding maniac or, worse, some backwoods boy looking to make this city girl squeal like a pig. Then she pulled Zach's duffel onto her lap and opened it.
At first she tried not to disturb anything as she riffled through it. But that was absurd— he certainly wouldn't be so forbearing if the situation were reversed. So she upended the bag, and moaned in ecstasy at all the goodies that tumbled out. Oh, man, socks. Warm, woolen socks. She kicked off her sandals and pulled on a pair over her frozen feet. The rest of his underwear didn't offer much in the way of protection, so she tossed it over her shoulder into the cargo area. His jeans went the same way. But he had some luscious thermal T-shirts, and she peeled off her ineffectual little sweater and pulled one on. Then another. She topped off both with a wonderfully cozy Northface fleece pullover. Feeling a spurt of euphoria as she finally began to thaw, she pushed up the too-long sleeves and bent to check out the rest of his goodies in the weak illumination cast by the dome light.
She found a small zipper bag, but except for a condom whose worn and dented foil packet looked as though it had been rattling around the bottom of the bag for a while, his toiletries were pretty boring. Just a toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, a razor, nail clippers, aspirin, and a small tube of triple antibiotic cream. Oh, and wait. A small pocket knife. She pried open the lat-ter's various blades and implements.
As she was checking out the tiny corkscrew and wondering where a good bottle of wine was when you really needed it, she grew aware that her finally warm bodv had released Zach's scent from the clothes she'd donned. Heat that didn't originate from wearing sufficient clothing crawled through her veins, and she scowled, her momentary pleasure dissipating. Great. Just what she needed to make her day complete—sexual awareness of Gunga Din. She'd never understood women who were drawn to good-looking men who treated them like dirt, so darned if she was cheered by the thought of joining their ranks.
It was late; that was her problem. She needed to call it a day. Grabbing the fleece blanket, she folded the empty duffel to use as a pillow, turned off the overhead light, then wrapped up and stretched out on the backseat.
She couldn't relax, though. The longer she lay there, the spookier the sounds she heard outside the car. She thought woods were supposed to be quiet . Then, as if the situation wasn't already about as lousy as it could get, nature called. Well, she wasn't answering. She'd let her bladder explode before she'd venture into the trees surrounding this small camping spot. Nervous, stiff, and miserable, she tried to talk herself out of jumping at every unexplained noise.
But it was only by thinking of the various ways she could make Zach pay that she eventually lulled herself to sleep.
Chapter 6
ZACH WOKE UP TO SNOW. SWEARING, HE SAT UP and threw back his sleeping bag, which was weighed down with half an inch of the sloppy, wet stuff. He reached beneath the Jeep for his shoes. This frigging trip was cursed.
At least he'd had the foresight to throw his Marine-issue poncho over his bag before going to sleep last night. Being spared the scent of wet sleeping bag was a small blessing to be sure, but he'd take his boons where he could get them.
Not that he'd gone right to sleep. He'd twisted and turned in that damn narrow bag for a good forty-five minutes after Lily had finally quit messing around and turned off the light in the Jeep. Twisted, and turned, and relived, over and over again, that brief moment he'd held her. Burned everywhere her soft weight had touched him. And didn't that just take the fucking cake?
Cold, clammy, and pissed off, he donned his shoes, then snapped out the poncho wet-side down over the spot where he'd lain, using it as protection against the soggy ground while he rolled up his bag. Tucking the roll beneath his arm, he strode to the Jeep, shivering when a wet flake found its way down his neck just as he reached for the cargo hatch handle.
The hatch was locked, and he slapped his pants' pockets for the keys before remembering he'd left them in the ignition. Rounding the vehicle, he tried the driver's door handle, but it didn't budge either. He swore under his breath and peered in the windows just as dawn broke through the trees, marginally brightening the ash-gray sky. Well, great. All the doors were locked up tight, and Lily was asleep in the backseat, covered from stem to stern by the purple fleece blanket. Wisps of blonde hair were the only part of her he could see.
He rapped on the window, and felt an unworthy sense of satisfaction when she startled beneath the blanket. She raised her head, then slowly pushed up on one elbow, glancing around as if wondering where she was. Their gazes met through the window, and she blinked and gave him a sleepy smile.
It was a friendly smile, a sweet smile, and something jerked in his gut. Something else clamored for attention in his brain. Gritting his teeth, he ignored them both. "Unlock the door."