Slow Dancing With a Texan. Linda Conrad

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      “The passenger seat reclines,” he continued as he covertly surveyed her reactions. “It shouldn’t be too uncomfortable for one night. But it might turn cold later on. Sure hope you don’t freeze.”

      It was a thrill to see the bright pink flush of frustration spread across her features. She straightened her back and scowled.

      So what if that look could burn a hole right through a steel door? At least her spirit was intact.

      Her eyes narrowed to little slits when he didn’t make any other remarks and simply flagged the waitress to request the bill.

      “All right,” she grumbled. “We can both stay in that little cave if you insist. But you’d better be praying that the bathtub is more comfortable than it looks, cause that’s where you’re headed. There’s no chance in the world that we’re both going to be sleeping in the same bed tonight.”