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gods could hear him, the sky opened up and a heavy downpour caused them to slow to a crawl. The only good thing was that Ty had stopped obsessing about his bad interview in order to focus on his driving. Thirty minutes later, when traffic came to a complete stop, his temper made a reappearance.
    “We could get off at the next exit,” Juliette suggested. “I can reroute the GPS and see if we can’t find a way around the accident.”
    “Sure,” he said as he inched toward the edge of the freeway. They drove along the berm of the road until they came to the next exit and then left the congested traffic behind them. That was Juliette’s first mistake.

Chapter 8: Stuck
    Juliette leaned back in the passenger seat and stared out the window as Tyler paced back and forth in the rain. He was desperately trying to get traction under the front tires, but so far was having absolutely no luck. Everywhere she looked there was mud. Sloppy, slimy, slippery mud. Unless Ty transformed into Superman and lifted the whole damn SUV into the air, they were stuck.
    After a few long minutes Ty came to the same conclusion and climbed back into the car.
    “It looks like we’re stuck here.”
    Juliette rolled her eyes. As if she needed Mr. Obvious to relay that very important bit of information.
    “What? It’s not my fault the road is flooded.” Ty jammed the keys into the ignition and started the car. He busied himself with the radio dials. Country. Commercial. Country. News. Country.
    “Would you cut it out?” Juliette was close to her breaking point. “You’re never going to find anything decent on the radio this far away from civilization.”
    Out of spite, Ty stopped on one of the country stations and turned up the volume.
    A twangy song came on and he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.
    Juliette stared at him in amazement. “There is no way you like this song.”
    “Like it,” he said, “I love it.” And then he began singing the words in his best Keith Urban impersonation.
    Juliette couldn’t help laughing. The image of Tyler Chase, soaking wet in his two-thousand-dollar suit, singing car karaoke to a country song was more than she could bear. As the song reached its pivotal climax Ty shook his head like a shaggy wet dog and drops of water sloshed everywhere.
    “Gross! You’re getting me all wet.”
    She bent over to wipe her face with the bottom of her t-shirt. When she sat up again, Ty had ditched the jacket and was pulling a white t-shirt over his head, revealing that unmistakably perfect set of silky-smooth abs.
    Juliette was no longer thinking about country music. She was barely thinking at all. It took every ounce of her concentration to keep from reaching out to him. All she could think about was the heat of his skin pressed against hers. And all she wanted to do was fuck him good and hard.
    This realization brought Juliette back to her senses. “What are you doing?” She redirected her gaze to something, anything but Tyler Chase.
    “I’m drying off.” Ty rubbed the bunched-up t-shirt over his now bare chest. “I hate wet clothes.”
    “I thought you were like a world-class swimmer, or something.”
    “That’s different. Speedos are meant for the water. Business attire is not.”
    Juliette had a flash of him in a Speedo. Those muscular glutes and tight ass, not to mention a sizable endowment that would strain against the seams of the fabric.
    Juliette jerked and her knee banged against the console.
    Ty gave her a curious glance. “You okay over there?”
    She nodded.
    “Because I hear the image of me without clothes can have quite an effect on the opposite sex.”
    Do not listen to him, she told herself. Tyler Chase is off the market. Sleeping with him would be wrong. Juliette hadn’t known better the first time. That was on Tyler. But this time—no, there would be no this time.
    “Seriously, are you okay?”
    “Just put your clothes back on,” Juliette muttered. “All we need is for