Passions in the North Country (Siren Publishing Classic) Read Free Page B

something powerfully elemental and sexy about him…But then again, he was a man. One of them.
    It started to pour and the gorgeous man gazed at her, his eyes locked, almost as if caught in a magic spell. He was literally unable to look away from Jenny, and she could not turn away from him, even though the rain rolled down her cheeks and the wind tossed her hair.
    “Thank heavens you stopped!” Jenny cried breathlessly. “For a moment I thought you didn’t see me.”
    The man said nothing and Jenny studied his features. It was hard to guess his age, but she thought midthirties. His unshaven visage had a rough, sullen expression, and Jenny couldn’t help but think how differently a man like him would feel if his car broke down. He would be annoyed, but not afraid. And now that he was there, Jenny wasn’t afraid either. She didn’t know the man, but because he had arrived in her time of need, she was grateful to him. He had a presence, something special—maybe authority, or self-confidence—whatever it was, it was that thing some men possess, the ability to inspire confidence, to seize control of a situation in a way which calms and comforts others around them, especially women.
    This man had that quality in spades.
    She stepped forward and peeked into the truck cab, wanting to be reassured by the sight of another woman, but the man was alone. Some of his clothes were draped over the seat. His big, soft sweater particularly caught her eye. It was made of blue wool and was so huge that she could have used it for a blanket. Lying behind the seat was a gun case and, next to it, a box of bullets. Jenny’s mind instantly started playing tricks on her and she was suddenly overwhelmed with the notion that this man had been hired by Ivan to kill her.
    “What’s the problem?” the man asked shortly, obviously not the least concerned with her, except that he wanted to be free of her as soon as possible.
    Jenny, numb with fright, replied timidly, “I…I got a flat.”
    He smirked at her as they walked to her car. “You shouldn’t be traveling this old road unless you can take care of yourself.” He motioned toward the trunk. “I need the jack and spare.”
    Jenny turned on her interior light and pulled the lever to pop her trunk. Though she had developed a strong distaste for the arrogant man, she decided to be friendly, at least until he fixed the flat. Then she could drive away and never see him again.
    “I was heading to Newbridge,” she said.
    “There’s no sense in you standing out here and getting soaked. Go sit in my truck.”
    She felt a powerful surge of pride. “No,” she said firmly. “I’ll stand right here.”
    The man furrowed his brows. “Suit yourself, lady.”
    “I will,” she replied instantly, and sharply.
    He quickly changed the tire, tightened the lug nuts, and lowered the car. He glanced at her, then picked up the jack and flat tire.
    “I can do that,” she said proudly.
    He made a strange face as he relinquished the muddy jack and tire. Jenny found the tire heavy and awkward, but she carried it even though her clothes got smeared with mud. She put the tire down behind the car and took out her keys to open the trunk, but she dropped them. She glanced back and saw the man watching her, though he was futilely trying to turn away. Jenny knew her loose lime-green top, now soaked, lifted up and revealed her soft, pear-shaped bottom, accentuated by the black, stretchy pants that clung to her curves like a second skin. The man noticed. Really noticed. And she liked that. The man watched dispassionately as she bent over to pick them up.
    His eyes were drawn to the soft contours of her bottom like a moth is drawn to light. Though he tried to turn away, his head snapped back like elastic. She was irresistible, impossibly sexy. He felt a stirring over which he had no control, as though a giant was awakening from prolonged sleep. It was uncomfortable. Unstoppable. He didn’t like it, but his eyes