Christmas Getaway by Tina Leonard and Marion Lennox Anne Stuart

night when he couldn’t get through to me. He knew I’d been at Farnham’s, and he was afraid something had happened to me.”
    Fitz’s reaction was brief and profane. “Did they blow him off or pay attention to him?”
    â€œPaid attention.”
    â€œHell and damnation.”
    â€œI’m sure he’s going to call them back, tell them never mind.” At least, she hoped so. Richard had never been terribly concerned about the needs of those he considered his underlings.
    â€œDid you tell him where we were?”
    â€œI said I was in Vermont. Alone.”
    â€œThank God for small favors,” he said.
    She rose, but the area was far too small, particularly considering how little he was wearing and how damned cold theroom was. “Take your shower and I’ll go see about renting you an SUV.”
    For a moment he didn’t move out of the way, blocking the doorway, and she was acutely aware of his size, his strength. He was just a few inches taller than she was, with the kind of lean, wiry frame she’d always found sexy. But she couldn’t afford to find James Fitzpatrick sexy—he was just too much trouble.
    She waited, and for a brief moment he moved toward her, and she had the insane thought that he was going to kiss her again. And that she wanted him to.
    But instead he pulled back, moving out of the way. “I can find my own car.”
    â€œYou mean, steal it? Hijack another innocent holiday shopper? I don’t think so. If the car is rented legally by a woman, no one’s going to think you had anything to do with it.”
    â€œUnless the police find out that Eloise Pollard rented a car less than twenty-four hours after she went missing from the last known site where James Fitzpatrick was seen. They’ll be on me like flies on manure.”
    â€œHow apt,” she said sweetly. “Take your shower and tell me what you want me to do.”
    â€œI’d like you to go out and get in your car and get the hell away from here before you bring me any more attention.”
    For some ridiculous reason that hurt. She could point out to him that he was the one who’d drawn her into it, mention that if it weren’t for her, he’d be passed out behind the wheel somewhere, or dead in a hail of bullets.
    But he was right. She needed to get the hell away from him as quickly as she could. “Fine,” she said briskly. “Take my cell phone—you need it more than I do. If you survive, you can always return it. Your antibiotics are on the beside table. I hope you make it to Maine.”
    â€œI’ll make it,” he said grimly. “Nothing could stop me.”
    She waited until she heard the sound of the shower. She put on the heavy socks she’d bought, then slid into her turquoise rubber shoes. Her coat was still in the car, and she figured, what the hell, and grabbed his ruined leather jacket. He could damn well freeze as he made his solitary way to Maine.
    Zipping it up, she pushed open the door to the cabin and started trudging across the snow-packed parking lot toward her car.
    And then she looked up.
    The black car blocking hers was unmarked, with Massachusetts official plates, and she had no doubt it wasn’t a coincidence. Especially when two men got out, one tall and burly, the other a paler, weaker version of Fitz. It must be his cousin, Tommy Morrissey. The men who wanted to kill him.
    She froze, wondering if there was a chance in hell she could run for it, get back and barricade Fitz and her inside the cabin, warn him that they’d been found.
    Damn Richard! It was just too bloody easy to trace her car. Maybe she could bluff, tell them she was here alone.
    But then the taller man started toward her. “Are you Dr. Pollard? Dr. Eloise Pollard?” he said, his voice firm and friendly. “We’ve been looking for you.”
    Fight or flight? She still couldn’t move. Fitz would have the