Watching Over Her. Lisa Childs

it. “I’m not sure.” Her eyes were wide. Startled. But Colt couldn’t tell if it was because she was still afraid of him or because of her injuries.

      “The air bag deployed,” she said a moment later. “The windshield broke.”

      So, something could have come through the glass and smacked her. “What happened then?”

      Her mouth started to tremble, but she clamped her teeth over it. She also met him eye to eye, nudged him several inches away from her and hiked up her chin. No doubt trying to look a lot stronger than she felt.

      Yeah, that was Elise.

      “After I crashed, I heard someone get out of the truck,” Elise finally answered. “The man was armed. Dressed like you.”

      Her gaze drifted from his Stetson to his buckskin coat. And lower. To his jeans and boots.

      His uniform for this time of year.

      “Exactly like you,” she added.

      “Plenty of people around here dress like me.” Well, except for the badge. “Plenty of people drive trucks, too. In the dark most trucks look the same.”

      There was no indication whatsoever that she believed anything he was saying. Elise just kept staring at him as if trying to piece things together. But Colt figured that was better worked out at the hospital after a doctor had examined her.

      Of course, he’d have to file a report. Of course. And he’d have to say that a witness in an upcoming murder trial had accused him of doing her bodily harm. He wasn’t looking forward to having to explain himself, especially when he’d done nothing wrong. Still, that was part of the job, too.

      “Come on.” This time Colt hooked his arm around Elise’s waist and got her moving. He was thankful when she didn’t resist. Or collapse. Though she suddenly looked ready to do just that.

      “I’ll drop you off at the hospital,” he explained, “and then come back and have a look at your car. Where exactly did you go off the road?”

      “Just a few yards from Miller’s Creek. I crashed into the guardrail.”

      He knew the exact spot and winced. That creek was deep and icy this time of year. If her car had gone over, then she might have gotten a lot more than just a bloody gash on her head. She could have drowned or died from exposure, especially since there likely wouldn’t have been anyone to come along and rescue her.

      He leaned in to smell her breath. No scent of booze. But she did scowl and shoved her elbow against him to get him out of her face.

      “I’m not drunk,” she grumbled. “Or crazy. I know what happened, and I know what I saw.”

      Yes, and sometimes what a person saw wasn’t the truth. But Colt kept that to himself. No sense getting in an argument about this particular incident.

      Or the trial.

      Though he was positive Elise hadn’t seen what she thought she’d seen all those years ago, either.

      “So, you crashed into the guardrail,” he repeated while he continued to lead her to his truck. “What happened then?”

      She took a deep breath. Paused. “I managed to bat down the air bag, and I got out on the passenger’s side. I just started running.”

      Colt was about to remind her that she could have run for no reason. But he didn’t get a chance to say anything.

      The slash of lights stopped him.

      Since the road was only twenty yards or so away, it wasn’t unusual for a vehicle to come this way. But Elise obviously didn’t feel the same.

      “Oh, God.” She turned and pulled him behind one of the trees. Elise also reached down and turned off his flashlight.

      Colt kept his attention on the truck. It was indeed the same model and color as his. And it wasn’t going at a normal speed. It was inching closer as if the driver was looking for something.

      Probably Elise.

      And not for the killer-reasons that she believed but maybe the driver was trying to find her to make sure she was okay.

      Still, Colt stayed put. Watching. Waiting. Wondering if he, too, had lost his bloomin’ mind to hide behind a tree instead of just trying to have a chat with whoever was behind that steering wheel.

      Next to him, Elise’s breath was gusting now, and she had her hand clamped on his left arm like a vise. Every part of her was shaking.

      The truck pulled just ahead of Colt’s. Stopped. And the automatic window eased down. It was too dark for him to see inside, but he could just make out the silhouette of a driver. A man, from the looks of it.

      The driver turned off his headlights.

      That didn’t help the prickly feeling down Colt’s spine.

      Nor did the other thing he saw.

      He stepped from his truck, taking slow cautious steps while he looked at the ground.

      And the man was carrying a gun.

      Copyright © 2015 by Delores Fossen

       The Marine’s Temptation

      Jennifer Morey

       “What were you thinking just now?” Carson asked in an intimate voice.

      “That I’d be a fool to fall for you.”

      He studied her awhile, not showing any reaction. “Are you ready to go?”

      She nodded, and they walked out of the restaurant. A valet summoned Carson’s limo. The excessive show of wealth should have repulsed her. Instead, it was a fitting end to a wonderful evening—a drive home in a princess carriage. Everything she’d previously thought about rich people wasn’t true tonight.

      Carson tugged Georgia’s hand. She stopped and faced him.

      “I had a nice time tonight,” he said.

      “I did, too.”

      “I won’t tease you about that.” He grinned, sexy and full of affection.

      Her heart flopped into more excited beats.

      “I’d like to do this again, Georgia.”

      “Oh … I …” She may as well have melted right there.

      He slid his arm all the way around her, pulling her close. And then he kissed her … before she could react. His mouth over hers sent tingles of shocking pleasure all the way through her, brewing desire she wasn’t expecting.

      “Gun!” someone shouted.

      Two-time RITA® Award nominee and Golden Quill Award winner JENNIFER MOREY writes single-title contemporary romance and page-turning romantic suspense. She has a geology degree and has managed export programmes in compliance with the International Traffic in Arms Regulations (ITAR) for the aerospace industry. She lives at the feet of the Rocky Mountains in Denver, Colorado, and loves to hear from readers through her website, jennifermorey.com, or Facebook.

      For my twin sister, Jackie,

      my number one supporter.