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“Then what's the problem? What are you waiting for? Get over here.” Garrett draped his left arm over the back of her seat. His palm cupped her shoulder, tugging her in his direction.
She stiffened. Surely curling up to Garrett Thayer's hard, virile—warm!—body wasn't right. Was it? And was there any right or wrong when the alternative was freezing to death?
That decided the matter.
Cradling Moonshine close to her stomach, and careful not to jar his wounded leg, she scooted over the shift, snatching the blanket off the floor on the way. His leg felt hard and unnaturally hot beneath her. The heat of his body enfolded her, his intriguing, spicy male scent surrounded her.
Her mind spiraled, drifting back to the kiss and the way his tongue had plundered her mouth. Back to the way his body had felt—warm and solid and wonderful—molded to hers. Her breath caught when she remembered vividly how his hand felt cupping her breast,
his thumb flicking her nipple to rigid, aching life as she arched hungrily into his touch.
This time the shiver that skated down Murphy McKenna's spine had nothing to do with cold.
Chapter 7
Murphy's Law #7: Every plus has a minus…
MURPHY SNUGGLED more deeply beneath the blanket, and more closely against Garrett's chest. He felt hard and…hot. Very hot. The two aspirin tablets she'd made him take half an hour ago had had no effect in lowering his temperature. If anything, his fever had escalated.
Snow had accumulated quickly on the unmoving car. It was no longer possible to see out of any but the back window, although a faint tint of moonlight managed to sneak inside, bathing the Rabbit's interior a muted shade of silver. Wind pounded the car, rattling the windows in their rust-and-metal casing, letting in an unwanted breeze through the passenger window. While the thread-worn blanket trapped the majority of her and Garrett's body heat, Murphy still felt an icy draft whisk over shins.
“Do you think we're going to die?” she asked softly. Did the shiver that skated down her spine originate from the bitter cold air fogging the breath in front of her face, or fear that he would answer affirmatively?
The chest beneath her cheek stiffened. She felt his shoulders lift and fall in what was meant to be a casual shrug. But wasn't. His arms, wrapped about her waist, tighten until he was holding her protectively close. “Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart.”
It wasn't the answer she wanted. On the other hand, there was no skirting the truth. She was realistic enough to admit that their predicament could go either way. Their luck could worsen—was that possible?—or improve. Help would reach them before they froze to death, or it wouldn't.
With the car's front wheels stuck in a ditch, and the house too far away to reach by foot in this blizzard—not that Garrett could walk so far in his condition, no matter what the weather—the situation was out of their hands. All that was left for them to do was to huddle together, share body heat, and pray that, for once, Murphy's Law proved erroneous, that help arrived in time.
The loss of control gnawed at Murphy. She shifted uneasily on Garrett's lap. Her legs were wedged between his, and she was careful not to jar his thigh. Moonshine had curled up on the floor of the front passenger's seat. More precisely, the cat had wrapped his huge, furry body around both their feet. While the feline kept Murphy's toes warm, it was nothing compared to the hot, dizzying effect of being cradled protectively to Garrett Thayer's chest.
“How long has it been since we got stuck?” she asked, surrendering to a sudden need to talk. The path her mind had been wandering down for the last few minutes wasn't helping to calm her chaffed-raw nerves. She needed a distraction. The low, husky sound of this man's voice was the only one available.
He shifted, and she knew without looking that he'd glanced at his watch. She liked the way his voice rumbled in the hard chest she'd cushioned her head against when he replied, “Fifteen minutes.”
“Is that all?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Really? Seems like it's been longer. An hour, maybe two.”
“You know what they say. Time flies when you're having"—Garrett grunted when he changed positions again, distributing Murphy's weight more evenly on his good leg—"fun.”
“Help isn't coming, is it?” It was another question Murphy didn't really want answered, another question she felt compelled to ask. “If it was, wouldn't it have gotten here by now? It's been, what? Over three hours since I called the police?”
“Probably.”
“Probably? Probably? Darn it, Garrett couldn't you at least try to sound more concerned? If help doesn't show up soon we're going to freeze to death!”
“I know.”
“You know,” Murphy echoed flatly, shaking her head. Her sigh misted the air in front of her face. “Know, but don't care, is that it?”
“No.”
“Sounds that way to me.”
“I care, Murphy. Of course I do.” The sternness of his voice wasn't compromised by the way he sniffled loudly and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. “The thing is, I don't see how there's a hell of a lot we can do about it. This car isn't going anywhere. Your legs are fine and, hell, even you admit you can't walk all the way back to the house in this weather. There's no way in hell I could. Have I missed an option somewhere? Have you thought of a way out of this mess I haven't? Because if you have, sweetheart, by all means share it. God knows I'd welcome any—Ouch! Son-of-a-Goddamn—!”
