Stranger In His Arms by Charlotte Douglas

Author:Charlotte Douglas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Jennifer lifted her head from the microfiche viewer and rubbed her tired eyes. She had flown out of Asheville three days ago, but in many ways, it seemed like years. She gazed out the library window. Dark clouds were gathering on the southwest horizon, a sure sign of an approaching cold front, one more than likely accompanied by rain. If she wanted to reach home without getting soaked, she had to get a move on.

She scooped up copies of newspaper articles, stuffed them into her backpack, and headed for the nearest exit. If she hurried, she could catch the next bus. She bolted down the stairs and raced to the corner just as the bus approached and the first drops of rain pelted her face.

She stepped onto the bus, but strong hands grabbed her from behind and yanked her back to the sidewalk. Screeching in alarm, she swung her backpack at her attacker.

The big man ducked, then grabbed the backpack from her hands. “As least this isn’t as lethal as an iron frying pan,” he said.

Mouth open, she froze in surprise.

“Need me to call the cops, miss?” the bus driver called to her. He’d witnessed the entire altercation through the bus’s open door.

She shook her head. “Never mind. He’s a friend.”

“The way you was yelling, didn’t sound like no friend.” With a dubious look, the driver closed the doors and put the bus into gear.

Still shaking from her scare, Jennifer stood in the cloud of diesel fumes and glared at man who’d grabbed her. “That’s the third time you’ve almost scared me to death.”

Dylan tossed her the backpack and grinned. “How could I scare you to death when I’m in Atlanta and you’re supposed to be in New York City?”

Anger had replaced her fear, but it was tempered with such happiness at the sight of him, she didn’t know whether to smack the smug expression off his handsome face or throw her arms around him and tell him how glad she was to see him again. Conflicted, she did neither.

“Are you following me?” she accused him.

He placed his fists on his hips and stared down at her. “If I had been following you, I’d have headed north. What are you doing in Atlanta?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You’re full of long stories, aren’t you?”

The rain had increased in intensity, and rivulets were running off her hair and into her eyes. She turned up the collar of her jacket against the deluge. “It’s raining cats and dogs, and that was the last bus for the next hour.”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and she recognized his pickup truck parked across the street. “I’ll drive you wherever you’re headed. That’ll give you a chance to tell me your long story.”

The rain fell harder. He broke into a run for the truck, and she dashed behind him, anxious for cover from the cold downpour and piercing wind. Once inside, she pushed soggy wisps of hair from her eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I asked you first.

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