Jake (California Dreamy) - By Rian Kelley Page 0,5

truck?” she suggested. “There’s no cell reception here, but there’s a small town about twenty miles back. Think of me as you’re passing through?”

He shook his head, the smile still hovering on his lips. “Too easy,” he returned, though the option had some appeal. Climbing back into his truck and leaving trouble behind was always an attractive option, but never his first choice. He’d also be following orders, something he was as good at doing as he was at giving them. “I come prepared,” he assured her.

“Boy Scout?”

“Never. And don’t forget it.” His eyes hooked on her face again. He could get lost in her eyes. They were big, brown and sparkled with humor. He slipped his gaze lower, dwelling on the full bow of her lips. What was it about red lipstick that went straight to his dick? “Stay here. Finish dressing--” he heard the timber of his voice grow deeper, stirred by his physical reaction to her, “or not. I’m going to pull my truck around front and hook us up.”

Surprise made her eyes flare and he changed his opinion of their color. They were fascinating. Mutable. And hazel. A mix of deep green, gold and brown that made him think of mountaintops and sun filtering through spring trees.

He made himself turn away, start walking. He palmed his fly and adjusted his growing problem, damned the friction of his jeans and the memory of her mouth, curved into that cheeky smile, and where it had taken him.

“You have a tow bar hidden in the bed of your truck?” she called after him.

He didn’t stop, didn’t turn around. He was a man of discipline—though he’d never had to chase after it so quickly. “No, but I’m a good Montana boy. I have a winch. It’s good enough in a pinch.”

Jake slid behind the wheel of his truck and took a moment to watch Ivy from a distance. She was tall, willowy, but with a core strength that would allow her to bend but not break. Jake guessed she came pretty close to it at some point—she’d revealed as much—and she’d had the opportunity to truly test her own resilience. Rising from that kind of challenge left a person with unshakable confidence. Jake had personal experience with that. He’d come back not once but twice from the edge. And after his latest mission, he felt like he was tap dancing on a tightrope.

That kind of confidence could quickly make a man foolish, he reminded himself.

He pushed the key into the ignition and pulled forward, moving around her compact vehicle and setting up in front, reversing until his bumper was just inches from hers. The winch would lift her car several inches from the blacktop and secure it to his one-ton, the back tires of her Patriot rolling along the pavement and absorbing half its load. They could easily make it back to civilization and then some.

She was waiting for him when he climbed out of the truck.

“What can I do?”

“Stand back and watch,” he suggested, already knowing Ivy was a doer. He noted again the running shoes and shorts that she’d slipped into and nodded at her feet.

“What were you going to do with those?”

“Run to a call box.”

“Good plan.”

“I’m good in a crisis.”

And the only way to get there was practice. “Where are you headed?”

“San Diego.”

“You in a hurry?”

“I have to be at work at seven.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a respiratory therapist,” she told him. “I have a lot of patients relying on me.”

He nodded. “So I’ll have you there by seven,” he promised. “It’ll be slow-going, though. Towing your car means fifty miles per hour and we’ll have to hook up with the Fifteen Freeway at the next interchange—all this bumping and grinding won’t be good for our connection.”

“Do you always talk in double-entendres?”

“You started it,” he reminded her. He lay down on the pavement and got to work under

her car, securing the grappling-type hooks to the frame. When he surfaced she was standing over him.

“Thank you, for the tow and the ride. But isn’t San Diego a little out of your way?”

“I live in San Diego.”

“But you were headed east,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “A detour.” And remarkably more appealing than four days in Vegas.

“It’s a little more than that.”

“I wasn’t looking forward to Vegas,” he admitted. He stood and didn’t mind at all that he was in her personal space. This close, his skin flushed with heat. His heartbeat kicked into staccato. He watched her lips