The Thrill of It All Read Online Free PDF Page A

brandy.”
    He lifted it to his nose and a hint of a smile quirked his mouth. “It’s tequila. Lousy tequila. The favorite of a friend. We must have mixed up our flasks.”
    Then he eyed her again, leaning forward.
    She tried shaking her head. “F-f-fine!”
    But Michael fisted his hand in the back of her hair and poured another couple of sips down her. “Sorry, dollface, but you need the heat. Champagne might be what you’re used to, but this will do.”
    At swallow six, Felicity’s shivering started to ease. But she was aware of the cold now and she could see it in every puff of breath they released. It occurred to her not only had Michael not taken his turn at the flask, but that he was still wearing wet clothes. “You,” she said, working to control her chattering. “B-blanket for you, too.”
    He plopped down on the other side of the cargo area, resting his forearms on his knees. “There’s only the one.”
    “I’m wound like a m-mummy,” she got out. “There’s enough for us both.”
    He hesitated another moment, then his fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. She leaned the back of her head against the car and closed her eyes. Rainpattered down outside, a cozy sound. Despite the chill in the air, she was starting to warm nicely, she thought. As the heat in her stomach started to meander its way through her bloodstream, her still-fuzzy mind floated behind in its wake.
    Her eyes stayed closed as some of her blanket wrapping was peeled back and Michael moved beneath it. When she felt metal against her lips, she took another obedient sip.
    A layer of cloth away, a shoulder bumped against hers.
    “Warmer?” His breath washed over her temple.
    “Warm. Getting to be lovely warm.” Her mind continued drifting along. “A little hungry, though.”
    “Unless you want to snack on packets of fast-food-joint salt or salsa, you’re out of luck. That’s the only stuff I found in the glove box besides the flask and the survival blanket.”
    “Survival blanket.” Eyes still closed, she wormed a hand free to stroke the light, crinkly fabric, and words materialized in her head. “Indispensable. Versatile. Everyone should have one—more than one. Has half-a-dozen uses—as a blanket for a picnic, the stadium, on a boat. As a desert sunshade. You can even make it into a cooler for drinks.”
    “That’s only five.”
    His voice snapped her out of her hazy reverie and her eyes popped open. “What?”
    “You said half-a-dozen uses. That was only five.”
    She hadn’t been aware of talking aloud, so now she could only stare at him. Like her, he was sitting upand leaning against the side of the car, but because he was so much taller than she, the blanket that reached to her neck cut him across the torso.
    Revealing, even in the semidarkness, impressive masculine features: a wide plain of pectorals, heavily rounded shoulders, sinewy arms that rippled with muscles she’d been previously unacquainted with. Even his hands appeared more male than most, the palms broad, the fingers long and limber. Long enough to wrap—
    Reality struck. Haziness lifted. Alarm tickled her spine.
    She was stranded in the middle of the desert.
    With a strange man.
    A naked strange man.
    Her behind wiggled. And oh, yes, she was naked, too.
    Then the how and why of it came back to her, in one staggering rush.
    In her mind’s eye, she saw it all over again. She’d been dead. Oh, God, she knew she’d been dead. That’s what she’d wanted to tell him before it started raining. That’s what she’d tried to tell him when she’d pointed out that rip in the back of his shirt. That she’d already seen it, from outside of her body.
    She’d watched the man—Michael—pull her from the car. His shirt had caught on her sideview mirror and he’d torn it free. Then he’d placed her body gently onto the sand and bent over her, breathing for her, pleading with God, pleading with her, and becausehe’d asked her to stay, because he’d