Hard to Handle by Lori Foster Read Free Book Online Page B

then, hands shaking, she unhooked her seat belt. Crawling over to the passenger door, she got out to investigate her situation. It was so dark she could barely see outside the beam of the headlights, but it was clear that both front tires and one back tire were deep in a snow-filled ditch. It’d take roadside assistance to get her truck free.
    Not that it mattered. Without brakes, she wasn’t driving anywhere.
    Now what?
    A gust of wind almost took her off her feet. She pulled her hat lower, covered her nose and mouth with her gloved hands, and looked down the hill, maybe a quarter of a mile away. A few people stared in her direction, but without streetlamps, Stasia doubted they could see her. More likely, they’d just heard the noise and wondered at it.
    At least the truck was off the main road, so she wouldn’t cause any other wrecks.
    Still trembling at the close call, she crawled back inside and turned off her headlights, but turned on her emergency blinkers. She grabbed the contents of her purse from where they had dumped onto the floor and shoved them back inside her purse.
    She locked the truck, slung her purse strap securely around her neck, wrapped her arms around herself, and started trekking down the steep hill. Her feet sank so deeply into the crunchy snow that it fell into the tops of her boots and hindered her every step.
    Stasia didn’t let herself think about the wreck, or why her brakes hadn’t worked, or the noises she’d heard long before leaving her cabin.
    She concentrated on reaching Harley, and Lord help her, he had better be there. If he’d left already, she didn’t know what she would do.

    K EEPING all his attention on his cards, Harley shrugged off the female hand on his shoulder. Oddly enough, he wasn’t in the mood for a woman, hadn’t been in the mood since that strange visit with Anastasia.
    Somehow she’d bewitched him, thrown him off his game, at least his game with women. Poker was something altogether different. He’d stayed over to play cards to give the locals a chance to regain their losses, but he kept winning. He couldn’t leave with all their money. He had to stay for one more hand.
    That was what he told himself anyway. He refused to acknowledge any other possibilities for his reluctance to get on the road.
    The small hand touched his shoulder again, and again, he brushed it off. After the first woman had approached him, he’d been distant, almost rude to all interested females. He’d already slept with one of the ladies bothering him, and he wasn’t interested in a repeat performance. This was her third attempt of the night, and he was starting to feel surly about it. She’d been pushy to the point of annoyance.
    Ignoring how closely she stood behind him, Harley placed his bet. Nothing happened. No one stirred.
    Disgruntled, he glanced up at Ned, who sat across the table from him. Ned, as well as everyone else at the table, stared just beyond Harley.
    And that prompted Harley to look, too. He glanced over his shoulder, and started in surprise.
    Damn! So it wasn’t the blonde who’d been bugging him, but an altogether unexpected female visitor.
    â€œAnastasia?” Pushing back his chair in a rush, Harley reached for her. With ice clinging to her eyelashes and her fair skin chafed bright red from the cold wind, she looked more miserable than any woman ever should. “What the hell happened? Are you all right?”
    Teeth chattering, she whispered, “Yes.”
    And then, to Harley’s surprise, she slammed up against him and stuck her nose against his throat.
    It felt like an ice cube, and he jumped.
    She held on to him like a lifeline, trembling uncontrollably. It was late, the storm had worsened, but here she was.
    As he put his arms around Anastasia, three of the women he’d ignored glared at him, but to hell with it. He obviously had a few things to attend to other than a card game or