Snowbound Sweetheart. Judy ChristenberryЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter Three

      Lindsay shivered as the wind swirled around the car, making visibility impossible. She was glad they’d stopped, but she wished they could continue on. She wished she had her coat out of the trunk. She wished…A blur of movement stopped her thoughts.

      Suddenly the passenger door opened and Gil slid into the car, bringing with him snow and wind. She shivered again.

      “Okay,” he said, not looking at her. “We need to turn right. Room number nine.”

      Without speaking, she followed his directions, forcing her car to push its way through the snow. They could barely make out the numbers on the doors of the single story structure. There was a parking space in front of number nine and she pulled her car into it.

      Then it occurred to her that he’d only given her the number of one room.

      “Is this your room or mine?”

      Dead silence. He didn’t even look at her.

      “Gil? Is this—”

      “Our room.”

      It was her turn to be silent.

      His gaze met hers. “He only had one room left. We can’t go on, and we can’t stay in the car. I didn’t know what to do but take the room. I promise you you’re in no danger from me.”

      She believed him. And she should’ve been grateful. She was grateful, she hurriedly assured herself. But he needn’t make it sound so easy.

      All afternoon, closed up in her small car, his male aura had kept her aware, tense…interested, no matter how much she told herself she wasn’t attracted to him.

      Now she was going to share a motel room with him?

      And he assured her that wouldn’t be a problem.

      What could she say? He was right. They couldn’t go any farther. And neither of them could stay in the car. He’d done the only practical thing. After drawing a deep breath, she said, “Thanks, I appreciate your assurance.”

      He stared at her, as if her reaction differed from what he’d expected. “You mean you’re not going to insist I sleep in the car?”

      “And have your death on my hands? Of course not. I can share a room with you for the night.” So he’d be sleeping a few feet away. Maybe she’d have trouble getting to sleep, but she was tired. She’d manage.

      “Great. We’d better take these blankets I borrowed from Kathy. We might need them.”

      Normal, practical words. So why was he avoiding her gaze? Why was she waiting for the other shoe to drop? Something wasn’t right, but for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine what it could be.

      “Okay. Did the clerk mention anything about where we could get supper?”

      “He’s got a small grocery attached to the office. Not a lot of selection, but I’ll go back and find something as soon as we get settled in the room. And there’s a microwave we can use, too.”

      “In the room?” she asked, surprised by a modern convenience like a microwave in a 1950s motel.

      He grinned. “Nope. In the office. The food will probably be cold before I can get it to the room, but hopefully it won’t be frozen. There is a coffee machine in the room, though.”

      “I’ll start a pot at once,” she promised. “Can you get the blankets and your bag? I need to get my bag and coat out of the trunk.”

      “Sure. Need some help?”

      “No, thank you.”

      By the time she’d struggled through the wind and snow, retrieved her belongings and made it to the door of their room, she wished she hadn’t been quite so fiercely independent. She could admit to herself, if not to her companion, that it would’ve been really nice to run for the door and leave the carrying to Gil’s strong shoulders.

      He was waiting for her and immediately closed the door behind her, shutting out the storm.

      She covered her face with her hands, grateful to feel the warmth against her chilled cheeks. “Thanks,” she muttered, leaning against the wall.

      “It’s brutal out there. And you didn’t get your coat on.”

      “It seemed easier just to gather it up and run,” she said, raising her head and smiling wearily at Gil.

      Over his shoulder, she took in the room.

      “I see our room is as out of date as—”

      When her gaze focused on the major piece of furniture in the small room, she couldn’t continue. She just stared at it instead.

      Then she stared at Gil.

      “You’re not surprised,” she accused.

      He turned to look at the double bed. As if to remind himself of what she’d discovered. “No, I’m not. The clerk told me there was only one bed. But I was hoping for king-size.”

      “What are we going to do?” Sudden visions of sharing the bed with Gil, a large man, and sexy as could be, left her mouth dry.

      “We’re going to get some sleep. And I promise that’s all we’re going to do, so don’t give me any virginal protests. You’re safe.”

      Of course she was. The dratted man had made it more than clear he had no interest in her. But was she safe from herself?

      “You could sleep on the floor,” she suggested, finding the air suddenly thin.

      “So could you. I thought you were a feminist, wanting to prove you’re as strong as any guy. Want to draw for the bed?”

      The immediate outrage that filled her had her reconsider her reaction. He was right. She’d fought for being equal to her brothers, but when things got difficult she wanted special treatment?

      “No. There’s no point in either of us being uncomfortable. We’ll share.” If he could control himself, she was sure she could do the same. She hoped. It wasn’t as if she had an uncontrollable libido. In fact, she’d never understood others’ fascination with sex.

      But the itchiness she’d been feeling all afternoon in the car, because of this man, had her reevaluating her previous experience.

      “The bathroom is, uh, pretty small, too,” Gil said, as if giving her the rest of the bad news now that she’d remained calm about the bed.

      She moved to the door just past the bed and peeked into the bath. Gil had understated its size. Postage stamp might be more accurate. No tub. Only a small shower, sink and toilet. So much for the thought of a hot, soaking bath.

      More shivers brought her attention to another disappointment. The room wasn’t warm.

      “Is the heater on? Can we turn it up? I’m still cold,” she said, looking around the room.

      “It’s a lot warmer than outside, but definitely not toasty,” Gil agreed. He crossed the room to the small controls on the wall by the door. Sighing, he turned to face her. “I’m afraid it’s on high.”

      Lindsay moaned in disappointment.

      Damn, she had to stop making that noise. It made Gil think of long nights of mindless sex. Which warmed him up a little in spite of the inadequacies of the furnace.

      He turned his mind to food, a safer subject than sex. Especially since he’d given his word that he’d keep his hands off of her. He hoped he hadn’t been overly optimistic. After all, she was a beauty.

      She’d surprised him with her calm acceptance not only of the one room but also the one bed. He’d expected