WANTED (A Transported Through Time book) Read Online Free Page A

rigidly contoured, naked muscles. His skin prickled in goose bumps.
    It took everything in her not to stare. But the image filled her mind, even when looking away. Those abs weren’t painted on. Unless she’d stumbled into a Hot Hunk calendar photo shoot, they were real.
    Another wave of warmth rushed through her, and this time she blushed as well. She didn’t want to stare, but she couldn’t help it. He crouched down, and his abdomen rippled a washboard line like none she’d ever seen in person. Those hip handles right above the jeans’ waistline. Oh, good God.
    Bad. Very bad ideas formed in her mind.
    Samantha shook her head.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    She met his gaze. Moonlight showed light green eyes, heavy-lashed and brooding with something unfamiliar. She couldn’t name or describe it, but it made the warmth rush hotter.
    Samantha shook her head again. Charles would tell her to ice herself and remember her goals. The pressure, the funeral. She’d gone crazy; that was all. Not a smart thing to say to any would-be rescuer, shirtless and hot or not. So she said nothing. She shook her head instead.
    He searched her eyes, and his hand reached out. The world hung very still for a moment. Spellbound, her breath caught. Was he going to touch her? Prove he was more than a dream?
    No. He pulled a twig from her hair, showed it to her, and tossed it. He didn’t touch her cheek or glide his finger down to her jaw, or stroke her chin. No, but she’d wanted him to. That is what was crazy. There had been third-date heavy petting and possibly, in early years, a guy in a bar for some nooky, and then there was this.
    This was not Samantha. She did not swoon or flutter.
    Tell that to her stomach rapidly filling with pretty winged creatures. Those butterflies suddenly felt even more dangerous than the two men back at his campsite. Never. She had never been the needy type who longed for a man to caress her cheek. Never. Well, almost never. At least, not since age fifteen. She was not going to be one now.
    Samantha stood up.
    “Thank you for your help,” she whispered, ignoring his quizzical frown. “Can you please possibly take me home?”
    He eyed her a moment. “That depends. Where’s home?”
    “San Dieg—Winnemucca,” she corrected herself. “My father has a place on East Sunny Drive. Well, he did. I guess it’s mine now.” No. It was hers until the bank took it over.
    “Don’t know the place.”
    “It’s off of Grass Valley Road. Not as far as Star City.” That threat of his cohorts still loomed in the back of her mind.
    He shook his head, his eyes squinting. “I can get you close, but I can’t take you all the way.”
    She almost demanded to know why not, but remembered how acting spoiled and desperate probably wouldn’t get her out of this predicament. Close would have to do. Besides, anywhere was better than this, even her dad’s place. She couldn’t even see a single city light. Well, town light. Strange. Even as small as Winnemucca was, there should be some sign of it.
    How far had she blacked out and sleepwalked? A mile? Two?
    It didn’t matter. The longer the drive meant the longer a vehicle’s vents blasted her with hot air, the better. Handsome would be too busy driving to do any cheek caressing her or any other of her similar fantasies.
    “Sounds good,” she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. “Lead the way.”
    He nodded, and after staring at her several long seconds (or did time just suspend for that long?)—during which she glanced about, ever aware of his stare—he walked away.
    When she followed, he stopped. With a finger to his lips and a stern look from those penetrating eyes, he warned her. Samantha remembered. Right. Evil dudes. Be quiet. She nodded emphatically and tiptoed the rest of the way.
    If his friends were that scary, what kind of a man did that make him? The kind who warned her, came back for her, and gave her his shirt, she mentally scolded her inner voice. The kind