Stunned by the sound of tears in her voice, Zack lifted his head, staring at her dewy skin and soft mouth with a hunger that he was finding difficult to control. The exquisite sweetness of her surrender, the way she felt in his arms, and the gentleness of her touch almost made the notion of making love in the snow at dawn seem plausible. Slowly, he looked around at where they were and reluctantly levered himself up off her. He didn't completely understand why she'd decided not to warn the truck driver, but whatever her reasons, he owed her more than an attempted rape in the snow as repayment. Silently, he held his hand out to her, suppressing a smile when the same woman who'd melted in his arms a moment ago rallied her defenses, pointedly ignored his gesture, and shoved herself up and out of the snow. "I'm soaking wet," she complained, scrupulously avoiding his gaze and swatting at her hair, "and covered with snow."
Automatically, Zack reached out to brush the snow off her, but she jumped out of his reach, avoiding his touch as she brushed off her arms and the back of her jeans.
"Don't think you can touch me just because of what happened just now!" she warned him, but Zack was preoccupied with admiration for the results of their kiss: Her huge, dark-lashed eyes were lustrous, her porcelain skin tinted with roses at the high cheekbones. When flustered and a little aroused, as she was now, Julie Mathison was absolutely breathtaking. She was also courageous and very kind, for although he'd not been able to subdue her with threats or cruelty, she'd somehow responded to the desperation in his plea.
"The only reason I let you kiss me was because I realized you were right—there's no need for anyone to get killed just because I'm scared. Now, let's get going and get this ordeal over with."
Zack sighed. "I gather from that sour tone of yours that we're adversaries again, Ms. Mathison?"
"Of course we are," she replied. "I'll take you wherever you're going without any more tricks, but let's get one thing straight: As soon as I get you there, I'll be free to leave, right?"
"Right," Zack lied.
"Then let's get moving."
Brushing snow off the sleeves of his jacket, Zack followed along behind her, watching her hair tossing in the wind and the graceful sway of her slim hips as she stalked toward their car. Judging from her words and the rigid set of her shoulders, there was no doubt she was determined to avoid any further romantic confrontations between them.
In that, as in everything else, Zack was now firmly committed to accomplishing a goal that was in diametric opposition to her own: He had tasted her lips and felt their response to him. His starved senses wanted to feast on the entire banquet.
One part of his mind warned that any sexual involvement with his captive was insane. It would complicate everything, and he didn't need any more complications.
The other part of his mind listened to the clamor of his aroused body and argued—very compellingly and very conveniently—that it was clever. After all, contented captives became almost like accomplices. They were also much more delightful company. Zack decided to try to seduce her, but not because she had endearing qualities that intrigued and appealed to him or because he was very attracted to her or because he harbored any sort of budding tenderness for her.
Instead, he told himself, he was going to seduce Julie Mathison because it was practical. And, of course, extremely pleasurable.
With a gallantry that had been absent before their kiss and which Julie felt was entirely ludicrous—and even alarming in their present, altered circumstances—he escorted her around to the driver's seat, but he didn't have to open the door for her, it was still open from her aborted attempt to escape. He closed the car door and walked around the front of the vehicle, but as he slid into the seat beside her, he noticed that she winced and gasped when she shifted her position. "What's wrong?"
"I hurt my hip and leg when I jumped out of the car and when you tackled me," Julie retorted bitterly, angry with herself for having actually enjoyed that kiss. "Does that fill you with concern and remorse?"
He said quietly, "Yes, it does."
She jerked her eyes from his somber smile, unable and adamantly unwilling to be charmed into believing such an implausible lie. He was a convicted murderer, and she must not, dared not, forget that ever again. "I'm hungry," she announced, because it was the first thing she could think of to say. She knew it was the wrong thing the moment his gaze fastened on her lips. "So am I."
She stuck her nose in the air and turned on the ignition.
His answer was a soft chuckle.
Chapter 21
"Where in hell can she be?" Carl Mathison paced across the small cubicle that his brother occupied in the Keaton Sheriff's Office, then he stopped and glowered at the silver shield on Ted's gray uniform shirt.
"You're a cop and she's a missing person, so do something, damn it."
"She's not officially missing until she's been gone for at least twenty-four hours," Ted replied, but his blue eyes were troubled as he added, "I can't do anything through official channels until then, you know that."
"And you know," Carl countered angrily, "that it's not like Julie to suddenly change her plans; you know how methodical she is. And if she absolutely had to change her plans, she'd telephone one of us. Besides, she knew I needed my car back this morning."
"You're right." Ted walked over to the windows. With his hand resting on the butt of the 9-millimeter semiautomatic he wore at his side, he stared absently at the cars parked in the town square while their owners browsed in the local stores or hunted for bargains in what had become a haven for antique hunters. When he spoke again, his voice was hesitant as if he feared to voice his thoughts aloud. "Zachary Benedict escaped from Amarillo yesterday. He'd been made a trustee and he skipped out after driving the warden into Amarillo."
"I heard it on the news. So what?"
"Benedict, or at least a man answering Benedict's general description, was last seen at a restaurant near the interstate.
Very slowly, very carefully, Carl laid down the paperweight he'd been rolling between his hands and stared hard at his younger brother. "What are you getting at?"
"Benedict was seen near a vehicle that sounds like your Blazer. The cashier in the restaurant thinks she saw him get into the Blazer with a woman who'd stopped there for a sandwich and coffee." Ted turned away from the window and reluctantly raised his gaze to his brother's face. "I talked to the cashier—unofficially, of course—five minutes ago. The description she gave me of the woman who drove away with Benedict in the Blazer sounds exactly like Julie."
Automatically, Zack reached out to brush the snow off her, but she jumped out of his reach, avoiding his touch as she brushed off her arms and the back of her jeans.
"Don't think you can touch me just because of what happened just now!" she warned him, but Zack was preoccupied with admiration for the results of their kiss: Her huge, dark-lashed eyes were lustrous, her porcelain skin tinted with roses at the high cheekbones. When flustered and a little aroused, as she was now, Julie Mathison was absolutely breathtaking. She was also courageous and very kind, for although he'd not been able to subdue her with threats or cruelty, she'd somehow responded to the desperation in his plea.
"The only reason I let you kiss me was because I realized you were right—there's no need for anyone to get killed just because I'm scared. Now, let's get going and get this ordeal over with."
Zack sighed. "I gather from that sour tone of yours that we're adversaries again, Ms. Mathison?"
"Of course we are," she replied. "I'll take you wherever you're going without any more tricks, but let's get one thing straight: As soon as I get you there, I'll be free to leave, right?"
"Right," Zack lied.
"Then let's get moving."
Brushing snow off the sleeves of his jacket, Zack followed along behind her, watching her hair tossing in the wind and the graceful sway of her slim hips as she stalked toward their car. Judging from her words and the rigid set of her shoulders, there was no doubt she was determined to avoid any further romantic confrontations between them.
In that, as in everything else, Zack was now firmly committed to accomplishing a goal that was in diametric opposition to her own: He had tasted her lips and felt their response to him. His starved senses wanted to feast on the entire banquet.
One part of his mind warned that any sexual involvement with his captive was insane. It would complicate everything, and he didn't need any more complications.
The other part of his mind listened to the clamor of his aroused body and argued—very compellingly and very conveniently—that it was clever. After all, contented captives became almost like accomplices. They were also much more delightful company. Zack decided to try to seduce her, but not because she had endearing qualities that intrigued and appealed to him or because he was very attracted to her or because he harbored any sort of budding tenderness for her.
Instead, he told himself, he was going to seduce Julie Mathison because it was practical. And, of course, extremely pleasurable.
With a gallantry that had been absent before their kiss and which Julie felt was entirely ludicrous—and even alarming in their present, altered circumstances—he escorted her around to the driver's seat, but he didn't have to open the door for her, it was still open from her aborted attempt to escape. He closed the car door and walked around the front of the vehicle, but as he slid into the seat beside her, he noticed that she winced and gasped when she shifted her position. "What's wrong?"
"I hurt my hip and leg when I jumped out of the car and when you tackled me," Julie retorted bitterly, angry with herself for having actually enjoyed that kiss. "Does that fill you with concern and remorse?"
He said quietly, "Yes, it does."
She jerked her eyes from his somber smile, unable and adamantly unwilling to be charmed into believing such an implausible lie. He was a convicted murderer, and she must not, dared not, forget that ever again. "I'm hungry," she announced, because it was the first thing she could think of to say. She knew it was the wrong thing the moment his gaze fastened on her lips. "So am I."
She stuck her nose in the air and turned on the ignition.
His answer was a soft chuckle.
Chapter 21
"Where in hell can she be?" Carl Mathison paced across the small cubicle that his brother occupied in the Keaton Sheriff's Office, then he stopped and glowered at the silver shield on Ted's gray uniform shirt.
"You're a cop and she's a missing person, so do something, damn it."
"She's not officially missing until she's been gone for at least twenty-four hours," Ted replied, but his blue eyes were troubled as he added, "I can't do anything through official channels until then, you know that."
"And you know," Carl countered angrily, "that it's not like Julie to suddenly change her plans; you know how methodical she is. And if she absolutely had to change her plans, she'd telephone one of us. Besides, she knew I needed my car back this morning."
"You're right." Ted walked over to the windows. With his hand resting on the butt of the 9-millimeter semiautomatic he wore at his side, he stared absently at the cars parked in the town square while their owners browsed in the local stores or hunted for bargains in what had become a haven for antique hunters. When he spoke again, his voice was hesitant as if he feared to voice his thoughts aloud. "Zachary Benedict escaped from Amarillo yesterday. He'd been made a trustee and he skipped out after driving the warden into Amarillo."
"I heard it on the news. So what?"
"Benedict, or at least a man answering Benedict's general description, was last seen at a restaurant near the interstate.
Very slowly, very carefully, Carl laid down the paperweight he'd been rolling between his hands and stared hard at his younger brother. "What are you getting at?"
"Benedict was seen near a vehicle that sounds like your Blazer. The cashier in the restaurant thinks she saw him get into the Blazer with a woman who'd stopped there for a sandwich and coffee." Ted turned away from the window and reluctantly raised his gaze to his brother's face. "I talked to the cashier—unofficially, of course—five minutes ago. The description she gave me of the woman who drove away with Benedict in the Blazer sounds exactly like Julie."
