Tempted Read Free Page A

floor. Her hand went to her throat. Thunder rolled high and loud.
    “Miss Pringle? I’m coming in.” The door opened on a gust of wind, and Max stepped inside.
    “Jesus.” She could only gape.
    His wet brown hair, thick and wavy, was plastered to his head. A soaked black T-shirt and jeans revealed rock-hard muscle. Not even winded, he was the largest man she’d ever seen. His face was rugged ... strong. Not handsome ... but, well, masculine. Yeah. That was the term. Deep, dark, and shielded brown eyes took her measure.
    A shiver slid down her spine, some fear, some intrigue. “How did you find me?”
    “You left a trail a first-week Boy Scout could follow. I saw you heading for the tower, so I kept pace until you got here.” He eyed her sopping clothing, his dark gaze wandering up to her face. “Your lips are blue.”
    Three steps had him at the cabinets, yanking them open to grab a sealed bag. His large hands ripped open the bag and yanked out two wool blankets. “Take your clothes off.”
    “No.” It came out on a croak. How insulting. He’d been tracking her, easily keeping her in sight. So much for getting to freedom. “We need to run. If you’re here, they’re coming.”
    He wiped his forehead with his arm. “No, they’re not.”
    Her mind spun. If the Kurjans weren’t coming—they were dead. “You killed four of them?” She backed away, knees hitting the cot. Unwelcome vibrations wandered up her legs. She shoved the images away. Her teeth chattered and she clenched her lips together. Her shoulders shook she was so damn cold.
    How had he survived the fight? She struggled to focus. “What the hell are you?”
    “A damn good fighter.” One broad hand ripped his wet shirt over his head to hang on a nail. “We’ll wait the storm out—but you need to warm up.”
    A good enough fighter to kill four deadly monsters? That good a fighter didn’t exist. Neither did absolutely perfect, harder than granite, sculpted male chests. Oh she wished he’d put his shirt back on. The breath heated in her lungs. “No.”
    “No to what?”
    “ No to you beating the Kurjans. No to there actually being Kurjans. No to taking off my clothes. No to it all .” Hysteria had her blinking rapidly.
    “Stay calm, sweetheart.” Max moved toward her, slow and steady, like an animal stalking prey. Except he looked more like a mountain than an animal. Not one of those rolling hills from home ... but a real mountain. Jagged and wild—yet solid. Unmovable.
    Instinct had her raising both fists, preparing to fight.
    He stopped cold. His eyes warmed and he cocked his head to the side. “Honey, take your thumbs out of your closed fists.”
    She frowned. “Why?”
    He sighed. “Because you’ll break them that way.” A scowl shaped his rugged face into something dangerous. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to fight?”
    Why did he sound angry? “No.” Irritation began to well up. “Don’t patronize me. I can handle myself.”
    “Can you, now?” He stepped closer, bringing the scent of male and freshly cut cedar with him. “Prove it.”
    Her entire body stiffened, and then she sneezed. Twice. Shivers wracked her shoulders.
    His sigh stirred her hair. He held the blanket out. “We can do this your way ... or my way.”
    She lifted her chin. “What’s the difference?” Cold. She was so damn cold.
    “Your way is I turn around, you drop the wet clothes and wrap yourself in this nice, clean, kinda rough blanket.” No expression showed on his stony face, but something lingered in those too dark eyes. “My way is that I help you.”
    Lightning zigzagged outside the wide windows, illuminating the entire world. It was almost as if the electricity aimed for the interior of the small space. She jumped, grabbing the blanket.
    “Wise choice.” He turned around. “If you’ve never seen a lightning storm from a watchtower, you’re in for a treat, Sarah.”
    She took in his broad back, intrigued by the jagged tattoo