Every Girl's Secret Fantasy by Robyn Grady Page A

of Phoebe’s wish list, there were only two explanations for her hard-to-get act these past weeks. It was either simply that—a tantalising act, as he’d always suspected—or she hadn’t considered him a contender for the position.
    Those couple of kisses today ought to leave her in no doubt.
    Either way, it seemed as if it was Tyler’s Stream and smooth sailing from here on.

CHAPTER FIVE
    H ER aunt’s boiler was going to be fixed. Hannie hadn’t yet tried to eat her handsome companion’s face. She and Pace were enjoying each other’s company, even outside of their usual flirting mode. Despite its unconventional beginning, today was turning out to be a good one.
    Halfway to Tyler’s Stream, however, Phoebe’s buoyant mood dipped.
    As they motored down a lonely stretch of highway in a high-powered British car that diamond-studded dreams were made of, Phoebe noticed the windscreen had begun to spot with rain. The day had begun with a flawless blue sky, but as they’d headed south rain clouds had crept in. She checked the rearview mirror.
    No cars behind them. Nothing up ahead. Nevertheless, she slowed down ten Ks.
    â€œReady for me to take over, or do you plan to hog the wheel the whole way?” Sitting relaxed beside her, Pace chose another CD from the stash Phoebe had brought along.
    These past two hours they’d listened to music while Hannie had napped in the back on the sumptuous leather seat. They’d discussed holidays and movies, but thankfully he hadn’t mentioned this morning’sincidents—either those crazy-mad kisses they’d shared or the Steve Trundy debacle. Perhaps Pace didn’t want her attention distracted too much while she sat in charge of a machine that would dent a bank balance at least two hundred grand. He must have a stack of clout at Brodricks to have organised such an impressive loaner. This car was amazingly smooth, incredibly powerful, and equipped with all the latest gadgets and trimmings. But after two hours she wouldn’t mind a swap.
    Driving in the rain wasn’t her favourite thing.
    Exercising her neck, she glanced over. “Think I’ll pull up at the next gas station.”
    The words weren’t out before she spotted a huge blurry mass, the colour of red soil, bounding across the road up ahead. Her heart flew to her throat a second before instinct took over and she slammed on the brakes.
    The kangaroo was a monster. If they hit, God knew how much damage would be done—to the car as well as to its passengers. She doubted the kangaroo would survive either.
    She heard Pace’s expletive as they both held on and the car jerked rapidly, repeatedly, decelerating ultra fast on premium anti-skid brakes. All would have been good if the kangaroo had kept on bouncing its way back into the bush. Instead, powerful hind legs brought it to a thumping stop. As its eyes meshed with hers through the windscreen, Phoebe went cold all over.
    They were going to hit.
    She wrenched the wheel and the car spun out.
    It all happened so fast, and yet in another dimension the scene played out in agonising slow motion. She clutched the wheel, her eyes terrifyingly wide, as thefront swept around in a dizzy one-eighty. Like a rag doll, she swung one way and then, with a bruising jolt, the other. As if she were stuck in a nightmare about to get worse, she couldn’t find a voice to scream.
    When the car finally slammed to a dead stop Phoebe’s knuckles were white, her legs were newborn-foal-weak, and the Aston Martin was facing north instead of south.
    Unable to move, even to blink, she sat, dazed, trying to get her mind around what had just happened while her heart hammered high in her throat. When the driver’s side door was flung open she gasped and shot a look up.
    Pace was frowning at her, a vein pulsing erratically down one side of his brow.
    â€œMove over,” he ordered. “We need to get off the