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He dug his keys out of his pocket.

      Before seating himself, he pulled off his windbreaker and offered it to her. “I noticed you were chilled.”

      She laughed and accepted the jacket. “I noticed you noticing.” She pulled it up over her like a blanket. “Man, you must be like a furnace. It’s still hot from your body.” She gave a soft, contented groan. “Feels good.”

      The things that tripped out of her delectable mouth would set a man on fire. He merely nodded and gave his attention to the car.

      Once he’d left the lot and entered the main road, he asked, “So what do you like to read?”

      “Depends.”

      “On what?”

      “Where I’m at, what I’m doing. I’ve read books on self-defense, on psychology, safety, and on self-help.” She turned her face toward him. “What about you?”

      Her choices surprised him, but he hoped he’d hidden his reaction. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but heavy reading about serious issues never entered his mind.

      In comparison, his genre reading seemed almost silly, and he smiled when he said, “I’m partial to mysteries.” He meant her as much as the stories he read. “Where are you headed?”

      “Visitation, with you.” The night was dark and quiet. The lights of the console barely limned her face.

      He shook his head. “I meant ultimately—where are you going?”

      “Now that’s the funny part.” She idly coiled and recoiled a long, ebony tress around her finger. In nervousness or out of habit?

      Or because she knew it was a feminine, sexy gesture and it turned him on?

      He cleared his throat and divided his attention between her and the road. “Funny—in what way?”

      “Fated, maybe. Like destiny or karma. Whatever you want to call it.” She turned her head to face him. “Believe it or not, I was going to Visitation.”

      “Really?” Bruce didn’t look at her again, but with every fiber of his masculine being, he was aware of her. Her scent, soft and warm, stirred the air in the closed confines of the car. “Why?”

      “If I tell you, you’ll laugh and I’ll be pissed and our peaceful time together will be ruined.”

      Cyn in a teasing mood was almost more than his libido could take. “I won’t laugh, I promise.”

      Still, she hesitated, playing with her hair, watching him…making him twitchy. “I have a vision of it in my mind.”

      “And what does your vision tell you?”

      “That it’s beautiful. A good place to be.” Her thick lashes lowered and she smiled. “I see wide open spaces and wildlife and I can almost smell the fresh air…” Suddenly she twisted her mouth, making a face. “That sounds pretty lame, doesn’t it?”

      “Actually, it sounds like Visitation.”

      “Really?” She half twisted in her seat to face him. “So tell me more about it.”

      “What do you want to know?”

      “I don’t care. Anything.”

      How could she be going to a place she didn’t know? “Do you have relatives there? Or a new job?”

      The animated curiosity left her. She turned away to watch the blackness beyond the passenger window, and though she answered, Bruce still felt shut out, as if she’d slammed a steel door in his face. “Nope, no relatives, and no job. But I’ll find work after I get there.”

      “Work?”

      Her laugh was nasty, hurt. “I don’t mean working the streets, so don’t get your hopes up.”

      “You’re assuming you know my thoughts when you don’t.”

      “Bull. You’re a guy. I know what you’re thinking.”

      God, he hoped not. It was bad enough that he knew the way his imagination had gone. “I only meant to inquire about your skills.”

      She laughed again. Worse and worse. He was never this rattled with women in need. He just had to remember that Cyn was a needy woman—despite the protestations she’d no doubt make.

      Ready to groan, or bite off his own tongue, Bruce said, “Forget all that. Let me start over.”

      “Good idea.”

      He drew a breath, getting a grip on himself.

      “You’re awfully young to take off on your own. So I was naturally concerned.” Bruce was a good judge of age, but Cyn could have been sixteen or twenty-six. Her confident air was that of a mature woman, but something else about her, some indefinable nuance, told him that she had the same insecurities as a child might.

      “I’ve been on my own for five years now.” Her fingertips touched the window, exploring her own reflection there. “And what’s it to you anyway?”

      So defensive, Bruce thought sadly, but he’d already suspected as much. She must have been alone when she was still a child. “What do you think that trucker might have done to you tonight if I hadn’t been there?”

      “Nothing that hasn’t been done to me before.”

      It pained him to know that much. “Cyn…”

      Her fragile shoulder lifted. “You were there, so it’s a dumb question. Forget it.”

      “You could still run into more problems, you know.” And once they parted ways, she’d be on her own. He didn’t like that idea much at all.

      She pulled her bare feet up onto the seat and put her chin on her knees. “You believe in destiny, Bruce Kelly?”

      “Why?”

      “Because I’m thinking maybe we were destined to meet, that’s why.”

      He liked that idea. “I’m a preacher. I believe God has a plan for all of us.”

      Her eyes widened like saucers. “No way.”

      He grinned at her shock. “I also believe we hold responsibility for our own lives, and for those who come into our lives.”

      His statement angered her. He felt her temper crackling in the air. “I’m responsible for myself, so don’t start getting any ideas.”

      Bruce ventured forth carefully. “You could use my help.”

      “Right. I’ve had all the help I can stomach from your kind, so forget it.”

      “My kind?”

      “You said you’re a preacher.”

      Her words were issued as an accusation. “That’s right.” Absurd as it seemed, Bruce thought she might be afraid. He’d told her his vocation in the hopes it would reassure her, but the opposite had happened. She’d become more disgruntled and defensive than ever. “Why does it bother you?”

      “I’ve changed my mind.”

      Bruce lifted a brow. “About what?” Her moods were jumping all over the place, and he had to go slowly until he figured her out, until he could understand the way her mind worked.

      “I don’t want to go to Visitation.” Her piercing gaze never left his face. “Not with you. You can let me out here.”

      “Here?” They were in the middle of nowhere. Literally. The moon was bright, the sky filled with stars, but they weren’t enough to combat the thick, heavy shadows of the night. The car headlights shone into endless darkness. There was nothing but mountains and trees and more trees.

      Bruce had slowed the car in deference to the black night. The road was so twisted, winding this way and that, anyone

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