Nobody's Fool by Sarah Hegger Page B

looking—”
    â€œHow hot?”
    â€œFor the love of God.” What did he care if she thought he was hot or not? “Drive the bloody car.”
    â€œI am driving the bloody car.” He slid her a sidelong look loaded with something that made her stomach quiver and her head go meandering off over the hills and dales again. “I want to know how hot. On a scale of one to ten, one being the average campfire and ten being a runaway forest fire.”
    Holly cursed the small, insistent throb beneath the surface of her skin. “Inferno.”
    â€œReally?” He pulled his mouth into an upside-down smile and then flipped it right over into a broad knee trembler that made her blood thicken and flow like lava. “Good to know.”
    Her face flushed and she tugged at the sweatshirt sticking to her damp body. She wished she hadn’t brought any of this up now.
    â€œHey?” He tapped her arm. “Messing with you again.” His smile took any sting out of the remark. “You looked like you needed a laugh.”
    And she did. Holly’s irritation slid away.
    â€œTruce?” He glanced in her direction. His blue eyes softened momentarily, and then he ruined the moment with a wink. “Until we find your sister or your car. Then we can go back to all-out war.”
    Holly laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “Okay, truce.”
    The tight knot of worry in her belly eased a little.
    â€œWe’ll find her, Holly.” He squeezed her hand briefly and then let it go. Call her crazy, but she believed him.
    â€œI brought you some clothes.” He indicated the bag he’d flung on the backseat. “At least they’re dry.”
    â€œYou did?”
    He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m a nice person.”
    Grudgingly, Holly admitted it was certainly a nice thing to do. She leaned over and grabbed the bag. Her shoulders rubbed against his, and the heat of him rushed all the way to her toes. She moved away quickly and pretended to examine the contents of the bag. Nothing fancy; some sweatpants and a T-shirt.
    â€œIs this yours?” Holly dragged out the T-shirt.
    â€œYes, it’s mine.” He clucked his tongue. “I would never be so gauche as to give one woman’s clothing to another.”
    â€œYou,” Holly said, “are too smooth for your own good.” On an impulse, she read the label and swore. “This is Hugo Boss.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œPeople don’t buy Hugo Boss T-shirts, for the love of God. They buy them from the GAP or Sears or . . . or Walmart. They do not buy them from Hugo Boss.”
    â€œPut it on.” He shook his head. “And Hugo Boss makes great T-shirts. I like the way they fit.”
    Holly wriggled out of her sweatshirt. She tossed the damp, stinking mess onto the backseat.
    Josh’s eyes flickered in her direction.
    Holly wanted to groan. Her nipples were clearly outlined against the fabric of her tank top and she whipped the T-shirt up to her chest. It smelled of Josh, crisp aftershave, and warm male.
    â€œShouldn’t you take that off as well?” he suggested in a husky voice that shot straight through her in a bolt of lust, as surprising as it was unwelcome.
    â€œI can’t change in the car.”
    â€œOf course you can.” He indicated the thinly spaced traffic now they were out of the city center. “Nobody will see, including me. I have my eyes on the road and I promise not to look, but you should get out of those wet things.”
    What a dog; cool as a cucumber, totally in control of this game. He was such a smug son of a bitch. But Holly Partridge never backed down from a challenge.
    She whipped off the tank top and tossed it in the back.
    The car lurched and swerved.
    Holly barked her elbow against the door as she managed to dive into the concealment of the T-shirt. Gotcha!
    â€œJesus.” He jerked his head back. “You should warn a guy