Desert Heat Read Online Free PDF Page B

hint of irritation.
    “I appreciate your stopping. I think my engine’s overheated.”
    “I thought you drove a convertible,” he said a little more harshly than he meant to.
    She shrugged her shoulders. “I rented it for the drive from the airport. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
    He started toward the front of the pickup and she scrambled down from the driver’s seat and walked up beside him. He caught a whiff of her cologne, something subtle and expensive, and felt a sudden tightening in his groin.
    “Radiator’s hot. That long grade we just came up will do that if you aren’t careful. You didn’t have your air conditioner on, did you?”
    She straightened a little, looked him in the eye. “Well, yes. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s broiling hot out here.”
    His mouth barely curved. “You better get used to it, darlin’. This is a cool spring day in Texas.”
    She tried to look at him down her nose, but as tall as she was, he was a whole lot taller. “Maybe so, but it feels darned hot to me.”
    “You were hot, so you decided to ignore the warning signs. You know, the ones that say ‘turn off your air conditioner so your car won’t overheat.’”
    She bit her lip and he felt that unwanted twinge again. Damn, she was pretty.
    “I didn’t see a sign. I guess I was concentrating too hard on staying on the road.”
    He glanced from her worried features back to the trailer and a lightbulb went on in his head. “Let me guess—you’ve never pulled a trailer before.”
    “Well, no, but I was doing just fine until I got to that hill.”
    Dallas sighed. A complete greenhorn—and she planned to travel with Shari. Since Stormy had a thing for Shari and had managed to con Dallas into taking care of Shari’s horse, this was definitely not good news. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring any water?”
    “Of course.” She turned and raced back to the truck and he couldn’t resist looking at those long, long legs. She was nicely put together, he had to give her that. He watched her disappear inside the truck and come back with one of those little, individual-size plastic bottles of water with half the contents gone.
    Dallas sighed and started walking back to his truck.
    “Where are you going? You’re not just going to leave?”
    He’d like to. Stormy would kill him if he did. Instead, he grabbed the five-gallon can of water he carried in the bed of his truck and returned to the hood of the Chevy.
    “Stand back. Radiators can be dangerous when they get this hot.” But the cap had a steam release and a cloud of mist shot into the air. A few minutes later he had the radiator refilled, which cooled the engine down, and the metal cap back on.
    “Why don’t you start her up?”
    “All right.” She climbed behind the wheel and cranked the engine, which fired right up. Dallas slammed the hood and checked to make sure it was tight. She was smiling from behind the wheel when he walked to the driver’s window.
    “Looks like you did it. The gauge isn’t showing red anymore.”
    He nodded. “Out here, you need to carry water. Only an idiot would tackle this road on a day like this with nothing but that little plastic bottle.”
    The grateful smile slid away. “I’ll buy a jug the next time I get gas.”
    She didn’t thank him for stopping, though he figured she would have if he hadn’t made that wise-ass remark. He wasn’t sure why he had. Maybe it was something to do with his father and stepmother, big-time in Houston society, all show and nothing underneath, just like little Ms. Boston. Whatever it was, there was something about Patience Sinclair that seemed to rub him exactly the wrong way.
    “There’s a ravine a few feet in front of you,” he told her. “You’ll need to back up and swing the trailer a little to the right before you pull back onto the road.”
    The color bled from her face. “Back up?”
    “Yeah—as in put the truck in reverse, crank the wheel, and step on