a way she thought it was sweet that he’d been so concerned for her welfare. But being independent had become second nature to her. It was her greatest protective instinct. “I’m fine. Just let me open my trunk and get my bag.”
“Your bag?”
Flustered, she fiddled with her car door. “You can’t expect me to spend the entire day with you and not have…other stuff with me. I didn’t know if we’d go out for dinner, or if you’d just want to…stay in the room.” Her voice trailed off. She’d packed things to refix her hair, anticipating that it might get rather mussed, and she’d brought something sexy to wear for him when they went to bed, as well as a cocktail dress. She’d never before planned a rendezvous and wasn’t certain of the protocol. But she had no intention of explaining all that to him.
“It’s not important, Dillon. Just let me—”
“No. I’ve got it.” He took her arm and, still holding on to his own door, pulled her toward his truck. “Just slide in on this side. I wouldn’t want you to fall and bruise anything.”
“I might fall, but you wouldn’t? Does being male give you better coordination?”
In the dim light, she saw him close his eyes, saw his breath puff out in a sigh. “Virginia, if I fall, I don’t care. And I can guarantee I’d be landing on a lot more solid muscle than you would.”
She didn’t know if that was a slur or not, but she didn’t ask him to clarify because she didn’t really want to know. Handing him the keys, she looked away and mumbled, “Fine. Suit yourself.”
He tugged her close as she tried to slide past him. His forehead dropped to hers. “Virginia.”
This close, she could see the dark sweep of his lashes, feel the warmth of his breath. He smiled. “You have an incredibly sexy ass. You know that, don’t you?”
Her heart tripped with the rough compliment. He sounded sincere, and she peeked up at him. He looked sincere—and as if he was waiting for her acknowledgment of the fact. “You have a wonderful way with words.”
His beautiful mouth tipped in a crooked grin, and once again his lashes swept his cheeks. “Sorry. Was my language too…colorful? I hope you won’t mind. I don’t know a lot of pretty words. But I do know a pretty bottom when I see one.” His firm palm went to that area and gently squeezed.
She was eternally grateful for the darkness hiding her blush. As it was, he probably felt the heat from her that seemed to pulse beneath her skin. Sex talk was new to her. And the raw, spontaneous way in which Dillon spoke was far from the practiced lines she usually heard.
She tightened her lips and tried not to laugh. “Thank you.”
His gaze lingered over a curl trailing past her cheek. “I like your new hairdo, too. Did you wear it this way for me?” His hand moved back to her waist.
Ironically, he didn’t look at all pleased by the notion. A more sophisticated man wouldn’t have asked. He would have assumed, and maybe been flattered, but he wouldn’t have embarrassed the woman by mentioning it. Virginia started to reply, but Dillon interrupted her.
His eyes were narrowed, and he looked reluctant to speak, but the words emerged anyway, low and raw. “Do you let it loose when you make love?” His gloved fingertips slid over her cheek, then over the upsweep of her hair. His gaze followed the path of his hand. “How long is it?”
Oh my. How could she possibly regain control if his every word made her mute with anticipation? Dillon lowered his head and kissed her. His fingers tightened on her skull and the kiss gradually grew more intimate until his mouth ate at hers, voracious and invading. Her fingers wrapped over his wrists, not to pull him away, but to hang on. His passion made her almost dizzy. It wasn’t what she was used to. He was too unrestrained, too natural, too much man. The thought made her heart jump.
He drew back slowly, in small degrees, his tongue licking her lips, his teeth nipping. Finally, his forehead rested against hers and she felt the cool, soft sweep of his long hair over her cheek. His sigh fogged the air between them. “Get in the car. I’ll throw your bag in the back and we can get out of here.”
Virginia glanced into the back of the battered truck and saw that the bed was covered by a tarp. “Whose truck is this?”
“Mine. It gets better traction in the snow.” He opened the trunk of her car, pulled out a small overnight case and cautiously picked his way back across the ice. He stowed the bag beneath the tarp while Virginia watched, then he carefully checked to see that her car was locked up tight. She held out her hand for her keys, but he’d already shoved them deep into his jeans pocket.
“Dillon…”
“In you go, honey.” Not giving her a chance to comment on his high-handedness, he lifted her off her feet, then unceremoniously dropped her into the truck.
He slid in beside her and locked the door.
Virginia fumed. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again!”
He didn’t answer, disconcerting her with his silence. In fact, he seemed different; the very air seemed different. Somehow charged. He put the truck in gear and began pulling away. She heard ice and snow crunching beneath the tires, even over the sound of the blowing heater.
She shifted in her seat, nervousness creeping in on her by slow degrees. Speaking her mind always helped her overcome her fears, helped her to reassert herself, to regain control of any situation. She’d learned that trick while still in high school, throwing student bullies who would pick on her about her weight into a stupor with her blunt honesty and virulent daring. She’d employed her skill throughout college and in the family business after her parents’ deaths. So hitting people broadside with arrogant bravado earned their dislike? It also earned their grudging obedience. And that had been good enough for her, because through most of her life, she’d needed every advantage she could gain. Cliff was the oldest and the heir; Kelsey was the baby—the sweet, pretty one.
Virginia filled the distressing spot of chubby middle child.
She huffed to herself and tightened her cape around her, regretting the brief stroll down memory’s bumpy lane. Such thoughts always brought up her defensive feelings and the feeling of loneliness. Only, she wasn’t alone now, and what always worked for her would work at this moment.
She turned in her seat to face Dillon and prepared to blast him with a few facts of life, namely that she was still the boss and as such, due all courtesies.
“Put on your seat belt.”
Of all the nerve! Her spine went rigid and her nostrils flared. “If you don’t stop ordering me around, we can just forget this little escapade altogether!”
Jaw clenched, he reached for the center floorboards of the truck, where a small thermos sat in a molded plastic car caddy so it wouldn’t tip and spill. Two lidded cups, already filled, were beside it.
“Here.” He handed her a cup. “I thought you might like something hot to keep you comfortable on the trip. I got you out of bed so early I wasn’t sure if you’d have time for coffee at home.”
He glanced at her, and she knew he was judging her mood, trying to decide if he’d managed to placate her. She still felt affronted, but accepted that he was trying. And in a small way, his take-charge attitude stimulated her. In a very small way.
“Thank you.”
He smiled, looking dramatically relieved, then he made a teasing face. “If I ask nice, will you also put on your seat belt? These roads are like a skating rink, and I don’t want to take any chances with you.”
She rather liked his teasing, and his concern. She smiled as she buckled her belt. “There. Happy?”
“Yes.” He reached over and, fingers spread wide, put his large hand on her thigh, gripping her in a familiar way. She held her breath and her stomach flipped sweetly. She waited to see what