The Corvette wasn't new. But the dozen or more years that had passed since it was built had done nothing to diminish the provocative appeal of its timeless, fluid lines or the finish that gleamed with glassy perfection. It was a deep-red wonder designed for speed and rebellion. For seduction. Not at all the sort of personal vehicle she'd envisioned for a man like Nathan Ballard. She'd expected something more like the Jeep. Or maybe an enormous pickup truck with the inevitable gun rack in its rear window. Something in keeping with his outdoorsy, hat-and-holster cowboy image. But this?
Shaking off Nathan's grip, she stepped forward and lay a damp, unsteady hand on the cool slope of fiberglass above the fat left-rear tire. This was not the car of a county Sheriff. It was the kind of rocket-powered bobsled rural Sheriffs were supposed to chase eternally--with no hope of ever catching up.
Overhead, the door mechanism hummed to life again. The heavy wooden door rumbled downward. The sound broke Bethany's fascination, and she turned her head to stare at the Sheriff.
His lips twitched. He touched the car's smoked glass roof panels with a possessive hand. He smiled at her. "I take it this isn't what you expected, either."
The precise perfection of his teeth flashed white against sun-burnished skin. Bethany's heart gave a single, convulsive jerk as a shock wave of thermonuclear energy radiated outward from her center to her arms and legs, her fingers and toes. She suspected he knew full well the impact of that smile and had planned for it. She was sure he meant to sweep her up in a stampede of raw, screaming power.
His power, or the car?s? It really didn't matter. Every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation. Mesmerized, she stared into his incandescent brown eyes, trying to read them. To understand why, stalking gunmen or no stalking gunmen, Nathan Ballard had really brought her here.
"Bethany?" His voice rose on a note of concern. "Are you all right?"
As quickly as it had come, the wave of heat and energy deserted her. Bone-deep weariness returned and she felt the blood drain from her face. Staggering, she leaned her weight against the low sports car.
"You're not all right." Nathan stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms.
"I'm so tired." And his arms were so firm. So steady. They were the only solid, reliable objects in a world of exhaustion, quicksand, and earthquakes. She let her head sag gratefully to his shoulder.
)
