This Kiss (Made In Montana Book 12) by Debbi Rawlins Page B

arrested sooner rather than later, and she really didn’t want that to happen.
    “I have a question,” Ethan said.
    Good for him. She had a million. Like whether he’d honestly intended to give her the room. And when exactly had he recognized her. He might’ve thought she seemed familiar and figured he’d met her in another bar, another town. Until she’d made the
hero
crack.
    None of those things mattered, really. Her job was to take him back to Wyoming. And that was exactly what she was going to do. As long as she stayed focused, avoided looking at him whenever possible. Because she had enough wits about her to know he was dangerous to her self-control, to her ability to reason. If she wasn’t careful, she’d revert to that same smitten fifteen-year-old girl who’d finished her freshman year with a bunch of newly awakened hormones and a broken heart.
    Even now, ten feet away, she swore she could smell him. His rugged masculine scent drifted over to her, distracting her. Tempting her to forget she had a job to do.
    “Why the blond wig?” he asked after she’d refused to so much as glance at him. “You’re much prettier with dark hair.”
    “Oh, please.” Sophie rubbed her eyes. This sucked. She was too tired to drive tonight. And she had to get him back as quickly as possible. For her own peace of mind, if nothing else.
    “I’m not trying to butter you up. It’s the truth. Were you worried I’d recognize you?”
    She knew he was playing her. Or maybe he was still fuzzy about her identity and was looking for confirmation. She wasn’t about to fill in the blanks for him. “You like blondes, that’s why.”
    “Who told you that?”
    “Every one of your girlfriends has been blonde. Think that might’ve given me a hint?”
    “It’s been three years since I’ve had a steady girlfriend. And she was a brunette...who happened to dye her hair blond.”
    Sophie snorted a laugh. “Do you ever hear yourself?” Without thinking, she spun around...and let out a squeal. “What are you doing?”
    The bastard was using something to pick the lock.
    “No. Oh no, you don’t.”
    She dove onto the mattress and crawled over to him. She leaned across his chest, trying to pry his free hand away from the handcuffs. Her right breast smooshed his face, startling him. Her, too. But it was probably the only thing that saved her, since she had barely reached his hand in time.
    Unable to get a good grip of his wrist, she threw a leg over him. Straddling him hadn’t been the objective, but there she was. She didn’t know which was worse, sitting on his junk and squeezing his hips with her thighs or having her boob in his face. But she couldn’t back down now.
    Pulling on his arm was like trying to move a boulder. “Damn you, Styles. Don’t you get it? You’re going back to Wyoming one way or another. Why are you making this so hard?”
    He grinned.
    Okay, unfortunate word choice. He didn’t have to be a child about it. She ignored him, other than to use all her might to pull his hand away...
    He went completely still. Relaxed his arm. Dropped the small pocketknife.
    “Would you stop that?” he growled. “I know you’re a lunatic, but my dick doesn’t, okay? So ease up. Damn.”
    “What did you say?”
    “Stop wiggling.”
    “Oh.” She stayed right where she was but tried not to move.
Holy shit.
There was a bulge under her left butt cheek. “Then stop trying to pick the lock.”
    “And how am I supposed to go to the bathroom, huh? Answer me that.”
    “Is that what this is about? You could’ve said—”
    “No. I don’t need to go now. But the point is, you can’t keep me prisoner like this. You know damn well it isn’t practical...” He trailed off and quietly exhaled, his eyes, wary and watchful, meeting hers dead-on.
    Sophie couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. Heat coursed slowly through her body as she fought the urge to touch his muscled shoulders and chest.
    They just stared at each