A Kiss to Die For by Gail Barrett

Author:Gail Barrett
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-07-01T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Half an hour later, they jolted down a rutted tractor trail through a stand of woods, lurching and bouncing though potholes and over rocks. The old truck rattled and creaked. The headlights danced crazily across the leafless trees. Then they broke through the woods into a clearing. In the center was an old tobacco barn, its roof caved in, brush sprawling against the doors, missing boards making Swiss cheese out of its sides. Beyond the barn lay a dried-up cornfield littered with broken stalks.

“This looks good,” Haley said. They hadn’t passed a house in miles.

“Yeah. I doubt anyone comes back this way. We can rest for an hour or two.” Sully pulled the truck around, backed into the shadows beside the barn and turned the engine off.

Silence filled the cab. Haley stared out the windshield, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. The moon was still out, shimmering over the fields as it inched toward dawn. Then the cold wind blew, whistling through a space in the passenger-side window. She cranked the flimsy handle, but the glass hung at an angle, making it impossible to close the gap.

Giving up, she dropped her head against the seat rest and closed her eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion deadening her limbs. The night had thoroughly drained her—the frenzied flight through the swamp, the horror of those gang members gunning for them, the incredible feel of Sully’s arms...

She turned her head and studied his profile, memorizing the aggressive slash of his jaw, the sexy quirk of his eyebrows, the way his morning beard stubble darkened his cheeks and throat. She curled her hands, resisting the urge to run her hands over his sandpapered jaw, to kiss the worry lines bracketing his sensual mouth, to slide her body against his heat. Envisioning his hands on her, she shivered hard.

“Cold?”

Just the opposite. She burned at the thought of touching him again. But she wasn’t about to admit that, not after the way he’d bolted from the house. “I’m okay.”

“I’ll see what’s in the back.”

He pushed open his door and got out, admitting a blast of frigid air that did nothing to cool her thoughts. Then he pulled up the hatch on the truck bed and rummaged through his friend’s supplies. He came back a moment later, a pile of blankets in his arms. “These might help. They smell as bad as the truck, though.”

“I don’t care.” Leaving a couple for him, she wrapped one blanket around her shoulders and draped another over her legs. “Believe me, I’ve used worse.”

“When you ran away, you mean?”

“Yes.” She’d endured plenty of uncomfortable nights—starving, freezing, scared. Nights when she’d huddled against her friends, so cold she feared she’d never warm up again. “We had to stay on the move, so we were always searching for shelter. Eventually we started spending winters down south, but at the beginning we were so damned cold.” And she would never take shelter or warmth for granted again.

Sully’s gaze captured hers, the sympathy in his eyes drawing her closer, the banked heat jump-starting her pulse.

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