Free All That You Are by Stef Ann Holm Page B

just like a woman.”
    Rather than say another word, she released a slowand deep breath. Closing her eyes, she began to count to ten, something she did when she got angry with Terran when he did something wrong. Usually, that ten-count gave her enough of a lapse that she calmed down to talk reasonably with him.
    Three…four…
    Thinking about anything else but her truck, she let her mind drift. Seven . The aviation office. The photograph. Yes, anyone could see it. She loved that picture.
    But she didn’t want Mark asking questions about her dad and her brother, Terrance. She hadn’t been up for the inquiry…and the inevitable “I’m sorry.” Nobody was more sorry than her, but it had happened long enough ago that she’d moved on the best she’d been able to. She wasn’t healed. She didn’t think she’d ever be.
    Eight…nine…
    Ten.
    She opened her eyes, watching Mark’s wristwatch glint under the parking-lot light as he moved something over the battery. Her concentration to keep herself in check shattered as she caught a hint of his insufferable grin.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Against her will, she peeked over his shoulder to see what he was up to.
    Facing her, he stated his observation. “You’ve got yourself a problem.”
    â€œYou?”
    The response was uttered before she could take it back, and she had to admit, watching his smile disappear did add a slight satisfaction.
    â€œNo, smarty. Your battery cable’s corroded. You got any tools in that box behind your cab?”
    The diamond-plated toolbox had seen better days. It was the catchall for stuff she didn’t want getting wet from the rain. To her credit, she did keep a small tool kit in there, but nothing fancy.
    Without answering, she pushed the button latch and one of the sides popped up. Rummaging around in the dim light, she felt for the tool chest and handed it to Mark.
    He lifted the lid and examined the contents, then gazed at her. “This all you have?”
    She didn’t care for the way he made her feel inept. She didn’t have an inadequate bone in her body. She was an unfailing survivor and always managed to figure out a plan. “A hotshot like you should be able to make something in there work.”
    He stood to his full height, dominating the space around them. She no longer felt the night’s chill. To the contrary, warmth seeped through the barriers of her clothing, touching her skin and making her feel hot. Not only towering in size, his shoulders were wide and powerful. Just looking at him caused her throat to go dry.
    His height dwarfing her, he said, “I can use the pliers, but you don’t have a wire brush in here. How about in the truck?”
    All rational thought escaped her and she couldn’t seem to work out a response. “What about the truck? It won’t start.”
    Placing hands on either side of her arms, he turned her to face him. With his knuckle, he notched her chin upward to make her look him directly in the eyes. Her entire being shivered. Mortified, she willed herself to be still.
    His intent eyes watched her, studying every facet of her fragile features. Brown and fathomless, his pupilswere large as he drank in the entire fullness of her mouth. Ever so slightly, his thumbs ran across her skin. She could feel the calluses on his fingertips, the rough-warm sensation of the raw strength he possessed.
    Dismayed, she realized she wanted him to touch her like this. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had held her face. Her lips fell apart, and she fought for breath. He stood close and his touch felt so…
    Tension wound through her muscles. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, didn’t want to know.
    â€œWhat about the truck?” she babbled, repeating her earlier question.
    Momentarily tangling his fingers in her hair, he smoothed the pieces behind her ear. “A wire brush.