Provocative Professions Collection (43 page)

"Not a lot of us use this detour unless we absolutely have to, which
we
do. It's the faster way to get my load delivered anyway, so just sit back and don't change the subject again." He throws me a quick smile, all sweet and alluring.

"Fine, you want to chat? How many times have you had CB sex?"

"CB sex?" he parrots me with a small snicker, though I'm positive he knows exactly what I mean.

"Yeah, like phone sex."

"Honestly?" he asks, leery.

Shit,
do
I want to know this? I nod, surer than I feel. "No lying to me," I tease.

"Promise not to judge me?"

I reach over and playfully nudge his arm. "Come on, spit it out! How many times and…" My hands fly up and cover my mouth. "Oh my God, have you ever with
Juicy Lucy
?" I'm appalled and intrigued at the same time, waiting for his answer.

He's grinning to himself when he turns his head my way and says, "Never."

"Shut up!" I drawl. "I don't believe that for a second!"

He's all laughter now. "Is that what you'd be doing if you drove a truck? Having CB sex?"

"I don't know." I shrug my shoulder and sit back. "Depends. You know any Dirty Dans?" I can't even force myself to sound ashamed. The thought of me and him, Vaughn, not some imaginary Dan, over the CB, like at work…I'm well aware of the fun that could be had.

"Well, you have my handle, so if the mood strikes—fuck!"

His posture stiffens, his grip on the wheel impossibly tight. "Paige, trailer's sliding. You buckled?"

"Yeah, but—" I tense, beginning to feel us lose traction.

"Hold on, baby, there's a bar above your head. Lock your legs against the floor if you can and duck your head. Now!"

My eyes go wide, holding tight and burying my head in my lap as the entire truck begins swinging back and forth like the tail of a caught fish. I hear Vaughn's cussing and grunting, peeking up to see him fighting to maintain control.

"Shit! Paige!"

All too quickly there's a lightweight, floating, disoriented fog as we tip. Then noises—glass breaking, Vaughn screaming my name. I feel him grabbing my hand, my shirt. I hear yelling, then there's a hard smack, the worst pain I've ever felt shooting through my head. Right before it all fades to black, I swallow blood. It tastes like warm metal.

Chapter 10

"Thank you."

I hear his rushed exhale as my eyes blink open, heavy and sore, to find Vaughn's face tilted toward the sky. They try to close again, struggling against my confusion and the throb in my head, but I force them to stay open. Unsure what's happening, I lay
somewhere
, the frigid earth at my back, as his attention is cast down to me.

"There she is." He cradles my cheek in the warmth of his palm, the severity in his features melting when I clear my throat. "Brown has never looked more beautiful, Paige. Let me see those eyes again. Come on, Firecracker, show 'em to me."

I fight the weight of my lids, the ones begging to close. I want to see him,
know
he's here, and give him what he begs of me.

"Paige," he whispers, the lingering undertone of panic in his usually playful voice striking deep in my chest.

A smile tugs at my lips when my eyes finally cooperate and meet his, the most riveting blue they've ever been, brimming with an unrecognizable emotion I'm too groggy to decipher.

It's beyond clichéd, and if I had half my wits about me, I'd be laughing at us both…but in this moment, it's as though time stands still. Cold no longer nips at my bones, there's no fear, no worry—only us. Just two people that, no matter how much I deny it, have a connection. An instinctive, effortless bond that refuses to cede its power.

His hand slides down my cheek to my mouth, his thumb tracing the contours of my lower lip while the other strokes up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. It's a gentle act, tender and almost…romantic. And true to form—
fucked-up freak
—I cower from his touch, dying a little inside as his hand retreats and that affectionate expression I was just admiring fades.

I brace myself, unsure what to expect from this version of Vaughn…the whole "softer side of Sears" campaign threw me for a loop too. And good thing it did. There's no instant sarcasm or sexual innuendo; instead, he takes a minute, staring off into the distance before glancing back down at me.

"You still got a voice in there, Firecracker?" he finally asks.

"Always," I grate out, the sound heinous to my own ears, like that of someone who
actually eats gravel
. I think it's safe to say I could use a drink, and as though he read my mind, he's up digging through a bag and offering me a bottle of water before my thought's even finished.

I try to sit up—try being the very
non
-operative word there
—
and crumple back again in pain and frustration. "Thanks," I manage, carefully manipulating my disoriented, aching body onto my side and taking a sip.

"Might wanna nurse that one. We only have two left."

I tear my lips away from the bottle I'm anything but nursing and stare up at him in confusion. "What?"

His only reply's the shift his eyes make once around the area, mine following. Reality crashes over me in a crushing blow, one I refuse to break under, so I take in my new surroundings, squelching any drastic reaction.

Trees, trees, and more trees. But wait, that's not all folks, we can't leave out the merciless snow barreling down, piling on my eyelashes when I look up to cuss it
and its mother
. Nature. Know her? Yeah, she's a bitch.

"We wrecked, huh?"

He nods in slow motion, the tiniest hint of temptation curling the sides of his mouth and sparking a twitch in his brow. More than anything, he's itching to respond to my mindless question with something along the lines of "can't a guy take you out in the middle of the woods and throw you on the ground without automatically being accused of wrecking?" But he doesn't, probably thinking now is not the time for jokes.

Well, he better snap out of it! Swiss Family Fucking Snowdrift is more than enough change for one day. The only way we'll get through this is if normal Paige and recognizable Vaughn, the guy
I
know, the one that can make me laugh when it's the last thing I want to do, work together. I need
him
now more than ever.

"We hit a patch of black ice," he begins. "The trailer fishtailed, I couldn't recover control, and the truck flipped. I know it's freezing, but I had to get you out. The, uh—"

Truck flipped?
Not just a wreck. We could've been killed! His gloom and doom suddenly makes a whole lot more sense now as an icy dose of my own earnest sets in.

"Help me up?" I want to see what we survived, what he saved me from.

"Are you sure?" His teeth worry his bottom lip, eyes shrouded with concern. "I don't want to move you if it hurts. I know the ground's cold, but…" He runs his hands through his hair then down his grave face. "Fuck! I'm so sorry, Paige." He dips his head, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "I never shoulda brought you with me. I knew the weather was gonna get bad, but I figured worst case scenario…" His eyes peer up, a sad smile of regret, guilt, and apology on his lips. "I figured maybe we'd get snowed in together somewhere—not this. Not…" He drops to his knees beside me and holds my hands.

"Hey, Vaughn, look at me." I manage to sit up on my own this time, forcing his face to mine with a hand to his cheek. "It's not your fault. I may not be as
brilliant
as the Channel 5 weathergirl, but I know what snow looks like and saw it falling when I
willingly
climbed in the truck with you. So quit taking all the credit, Showboat. And help me off the ground, my ass is numb."

He's on his feet immediately, grasping my hands, a genuine smile showing itself…for all of five seconds. With every groan or hiss I make, though I'm wincing as little as possible, his whole body tenses until he's finally had enough. With a barbaric growl, he sweeps me up into his arms. "Talk to me. Where you hurting? Your head?"

"I think I just twisted my ankle. No big deal. Lucky as hell, considering." I don't have the energy to pinpoint every ache and I don't want him beating himself up over
an accident
, so I wrap my arms tight around his neck and bury my face in his chest, leaving out the part about my pounding temples and ringing in my ears. "Did you call someone? We should stay in the truck to keep warm. Our jackets aren't thick and you had gloves in your—"

"Paige," he kisses my cheek, "the cab, final resting spot of our phones and the CB, is smashed under a tree branch. We'll just have to wait 'til they figure out I didn't make it with my load and come looking for us. I'd gone off route so it could be a while." He bends, no falter in his hold on me as he grabs his pack off the ground. "Can you hold this in your lap? I always keep some water in it in case I break down. There are probably some snacks and other shit in there too."

"Great." I roll my eyes. "So a couple bottles of water and some jawbreakers are gonna keep us alive for God knows how long?"

"I said
other shit
too. I'm pretty sure there's beef jerky."

"Jackpot!" I bellow, gnawing on the inside of my lip to contain what else I
really
want to say...which doesn't work. "Is that all men ever pack? What about granola bars or, I don't know, maybe a
first aid kit
?"

"First aid kit was crushed under my seat, and my seat was crushed under the tree branch," he explains easily. "But wait 'til you're hungry. Jerky will sound a whole lot better then. And there may be a damn granola bar—or five! Didn't search it, Paige, snagged it and got the hell outta Dodge. Now hold on, I'm pretty sure I saw a driveway a few miles back. Might be a house at the end of it."

My head flies up from the warmth of his chest and meets his tortured gaze. "You can't carry me for miles! Aren't you hurt anywhere?" I give him a quick once over while he keeps walking, not a bit out of breath.

Kinda hot.

Not what I should be thinking right now.

"Think it, babe." He winks down at me. "Glad your concussion didn't mess up your vision."

"I didn't mean to say that out loud," I mutter.

"I know." He laughs for the first time since I came to. At least my bi-polar bouts have a wide range—from flashes of humor to alleviate realism to grumpy to appreciative and slightly turned on—and are keeping
him
entertained and level-headed.

Hoisting me up gently to reaffirm his grip, he makes a joke,
finally
. "I may just start randomly hitting you over the head with shit. I'm liking concussed Paige."

Although I'm relieved to see signs of the Vaughn I know returning, I ignore that last comment, lost in possible scenarios of Plan B and C if there's no house at the end of this driveway he
thinks
he
may
have seen.

"Wait!"

He stops short, eyes wide. "What? You okay?"

"Oh, yeah." I swat away his hypochondria with a lazy flick of my hand, his response an annoyed frown. "What were you hauling?"

"Huh?"

"The load you were hauling, what was in it?" I ask again, begging the universe for a trailer packed with aisles 1-20 of a superstore…in the groceries section.

"Hate to piss on the parade in that gorgeous smile, but it was nothing more than auto parts."

"
Car
parts
!" I groan, hanging my head. "Seriously?"

"Yup." He starts walking again, ignoring my grumbling. "Don't worry, babe, there's
one thing
we still have, wreck be damned. You get my motor revving." He laughs.

"Oh, for God's sake, Cheesedick, at least
try
," I shoot and score.

We continue our trek over fallen trees, down hills, and up steep climbs, switching from swapping jibes to playing a game of I Spy to entertain ourselves.

"Brown and fast?" I question his latest clue.

"Mmm hmm."

My eyes roam the endless blanket of white surrounding us—
you'd think something brown would stick out
—but I come up blank. Thank God bears
, often brown
, hibernate during the winter or my ass would be outta his arms and running in the opposite direction of the woods, not trekking
deeper
into them, no matter how my ankle feels about it.

From the corner of my eye, I catch something move behind a patch of white bumps, which I assume are bushes in the spring.

"Damn, what I'd give for your .22 right now," Vaughn says, looking off in the same direction.

Completely still now, we both wait and a moment later a large deer emerges. I think I hear myself gasp, and Vaughn stiffens. The creature is magnificent and calm until he realizes we're actually there, and then, like a gust of wind…he's off.

"Would have made a damn fine dinner."

I roll my eyes, yet don't bother to hide my smile. "And you'd clean and cook him
where
?"

"Hey,
I hunt
, you do the cookin'. And if you do it
well
, I'll provide the dessert." His suggestive tone, teamed with dancing eyebrows, draws out my laughter.

"First, we don't have shelter, let alone fire or an oven. And there will be no
dessert
on this little adventure."

"Head injury. You're not yourself yet, I get it." His hand glides down my back and grips my ass. "But don't try and lie to
us both
."

His fingers caress the skin at the waist of my jeans in subtle brushes before slipping inside and sizzling over my flesh. My arousal soars to life, warming me in depths that want to beg for more.

"Seriously, I can try to walk, Vaughn." I squirm, needing space between his fondling and its effect on me, but he squashes my efforts, a constrictive hold crushing me against his body.

"Stop moving
and
bitching," he warns, tightening his grip. "Tell me more about how hot I am and how badly you want us to make a pit stop right over there at that log so I can—"