Free Getting Lucky by Susan Andersen Page B

along for the ride when I packed, did I, sugar britches? But you’re welcome to join me in my bag.”
    For one heart-stopping instant she was seriously tempted, remembering the heat he’d generated during the brief moment she’d spent in his arms. She was cold , darn it, and he’d been as toasty as a convection oven on baking day.
    But she wasn’t so cold that she didn’t know climbinginto a sleeping bag built for one with Zach Taylor would be a huge mistake. Against all reason, given his insulting behavior, the man generated some serious chemistry with her. “Is there a blanket I can use?”
    “There might be one in the back of the Jeep.”
    “You could have said so right away.” Mumbling about inconsiderate men who kept women standing around freezing while they were nice and cozy, she made her way to the back of the vehicle and felt as if she’d struck gold when she located a thick fleece blanket. Wrapping it around her, she went back to stand over Zach. “I need to wash my face.”
    “You’ll find a water jug back in the cargo space.”
    She shivered at the thought of using cold water. “It needs to be warm .”
    His big shoulders moved beneath the bag. “Pans and the camp stove are back there, too. Knock yourself out.”
    Blowing out a disgruntled breath, she turned back to the Jeep, stopping on the way to fish a stick out of her sandal. The stove he’d mentioned wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen; a regular camp stove she at least might have figured how to use. This one was little more than a propane canister with a pump and a ring. She gave up on the idea of hot water and slathered her face with moisturizer instead, wiping it off with a tissue in hopes of removing her makeup.
    She was returning her toothbrush to her train case when she spotted Zach’s duffel. She reached out and pulled it to her, then guiltily dropped her hand to her side. But guilt didn’t stand up against a skinny little cashmere sweater that wasn’t designed to resist morethan a summer evening breeze. She’d bet Mr. Preparedness owned something more appropriate for spring nights in the mountains. She grabbed the duffel bag, slammed the cargo door, then climbed into the backseat of the Jeep. She’d been a good girl who’d played by the rules—and just look where that had gotten her.
    The first thing she did after settling in was lock all the doors. She recognized a horror flick situation in the making when she saw one, and she did not intend to be one of those stupid heroines who left herself wide open to a knife-wielding maniac or, worse, some backwoods boy looking to make this city girl squeal like a pig. Then she pulled Zach’s duffel onto her lap and opened it.
    At first she tried not to disturb anything as she riffled through it. But that was absurd— he certainly wouldn’t be so forbearing if the situation were reversed. So she upended the bag, and moaned in ecstasy at all the goodies that tumbled out. Oh, man, socks. Warm, woolen socks. She kicked off her sandals and pulled on a pair over her frozen feet. The rest of his underwear didn’t offer much in the way of protection, so she tossed it over her shoulder into the cargo area. His jeans went the same way. But he had some luscious thermal T-shirts, and she peeled off her ineffectual little sweater and pulled one on. Then another. She topped off both with a wonderfully cozy Northface fleece pullover. Feeling a spurt of euphoria as she finally began to thaw, she pushed up the too-long sleeves and bent to check out the rest of his goodies in the weak illumination cast by the dome light.
    She found a small zipper bag, but except for a condom whose worn and dented foil packet looked as though it had been rattling around the bottom of the bag for a while, his toiletries were pretty boring. Just a toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, a razor, nail clippers, aspirin, and a small tube of triple antibiotic cream. Oh, and wait. A small pocket knife. She pried open the