Wyoming Wife?. Shawna DelacorteЧитать онлайн книгу.

      One

      Nowhere in Samantha Burkett’s neatly organized and planned-out life had she ever imagined she would someday be in a situation like this one—at the mercy of a complete stranger, strapped into a helicopter seat, and skimming above a frozen landscape toward some unknown destination.

      She had never been so cold in all her twenty-nine years. The only impulsive action she had ever taken in her entire life, and look where it had gotten her. She shivered inside her lightweight jacket. One thing was blatantly obvious—the wilds of Wyoming was no place for a tailored silk pantsuit and Italian leather shoes. She was a long way from Los Angeles and the conference-room protocol of the business world where she efficiently functioned on a daily basis.

      An entirely new type of fear churned in the pit of her stomach as she watched the ground rush by beneath them. Even though she was strapped in, her side of the two-seater helicopter had no door. Not only was the cold wind whipping right through her thin clothes, she just knew she was going to fall out. She closed her eyes and made an attempt at swallowing the lump in her throat.

      A single tear ran down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. She thought she had cried out every tear that could be squeezed from her body two days ago, when her entire world had come crashing down around her. She shook her head to clear away the bad thoughts. That part of her life was over forever. She had to make a plan for the future. Right now, however, she needed to figure a way out of her current predicament. She took a deep breath, held it for a couple of seconds, then slowly expelled it.

      She turned toward the man seated next to her, the man piloting the helicopter. Everything had happened so quickly she had not even gotten a good look at him. One moment she had been on her backside in a snowdrift on a country road, desperately trying to get her car unstuck, and the next moment she found herself slung over this stranger’s shoulder like a sack of flour as he ran toward the waiting helicopter. She had been aware that he was tall, an inch or two above six feet, but everything else was just a blurred impression of a man wearing dark glasses and bundled up in a heavy jacket.

      She finally managed to utter a few words, the first attempt at any conversation on either of their parts. “Who are you? Where are you taking me?”

      He did not respond to her questions. The loud noise of the engine and the rotor blade drowned out her words and made conversation impossible. She studied him as they flew toward what she assumed would be a small local airport, someplace where she could get help with her car and hopefully find a motel where she could spend the night.

      His blond hair was thick and a little long, but it seemed to suit his strong, chiseled features—at least the ones she could see with his jacket collar turned up around his neck and cheeks. His dark glasses prevented her from seeing the color of his eyes. His face was tanned, and his skin seemed to be showing the first signs of the effect of working outdoors in adverse weather conditions. She guessed his age to be mid to late thirties. The way this ruggedly handsome man had picked her up in one easy move and thrown her over his shoulder said he had to be in superb physical condition.

      A few minutes later a large ranch house, barn, stables, corral and