With Extreme Pleasure by Alison Kent

Author:Alison Kent [Kent, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romantic Suspense
ISBN: 9780758217585
Google: PqlwGwagWfkC
Amazon: 0758217587
Barnesnoble: 0758217587
Goodreads: 6453570
Publisher: Brava
Published: 2008-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

Twenty-one

Cady could not believe this was happening. It was what was supposed to happen, what Fitz wanted to happen. But she and King had only been on the road long enough to see a few miles of Pennsylvania.

And now here they were on the side of the road, the wheels of King’s new SUV buried halfway up the rims in mud, the grill cracked where a broken tree limb half the size of a telephone pole had punctured who knew what in the engine compartment before piercing the hood and stopping short of the windshield on the driver’s side.

That potentially lethal threat was one they hadn’t seen until climbing out from behind the deployed airbags. With the way she’d been flung over the console between the two seats, Cady’s had only popped against her ass. It was for the best. It was the only part of her not bruised.

Fitzwilliam McKie was nowhere to be found, a realization that had Cady backing away from King who was cursing imaginatively again as he circled the Hummer. She watched him a minute, then looked up at the sky and waved.

When King noticed, he stopped pacing and grumbled, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hoping to attract the nearest satellite,” she said, the hiss of steam from the radiator and the windy blast of cars whizzing by nearly masking the sound of wheels on gravel as a truck and two cars—one of them a Pennsylvania State Police cruiser with lights flashing—pulled to a stop.

Cady glanced at King as he turned toward the new arrivals. “I guess we treat this as a one-vehicle accident and leave out Malling’s possible involvement?”

“Since we don’t know that it was Malling, that’s probably best, though another call to that satellite might be in order.” King cast a quick look skyward. “Hear that McKie?”

Since we don’t know that it was Malling? What the hell? Had he really just said that?

Did he think their accident had been an accident? That some newly licensed punk with a hot car and no brains had been out for a joy ride and decided to take on King’s massive H3 for fun?

“You folks okay?” called the Statie walking toward them, his question forcing Cady to put a hold on that train of thought. “Do we need an ambulance out here? Ma’am? Is that busted lip from the airbag?”

Cady knew she still looked a mess, and knew from the way the cop was eyeballing King that he wasn’t thinking the airbag had anything to do with her mouth. “No, I’m fine. My roommate gave me this when she caught her boyfriend in my bed. The black eyes, too. I was leaning over to get something out of the backseat, so the airbag actually spanked me.”

The Statie nodded, looked from her to King who she heard grumbling under his breath about the llamas again.

“No ambulance,” King told the officer, slamming his hand into the H3’s back fender hard enough to make the metal ring. “But a tow truck for sure.

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