In her unique, kick-ass way, Arizona personified temptation.

Pulling the covers out from under her, he tucked her in and turned out the low light. What would she think when she awoke with him in the morning?

Anticipating her reaction, he skinned off his jeans, put those and her skirt on a chair, and in boxers only, he stretched out beside her.

She didn’t stir.

Though Arizona wasn’t a fragile woman, she was so much smaller than him, her bone structure slight in comparison. He slid an arm under her head, another around her waist, and pulled her up close against his body so that he spooned her.

Amazingly enough, wrapped around her protectively, affectionately, lovingly…it was the most comfortable he’d been in a very long time.

* * *

ICY RIVER WAS CLOSED over her head, but she kicked hard and broke the surface long enough to gulp in much-needed air. Fierce rainfall stung her face; laughter sounded over the thunder. A bright flashlight beam hit her in the eyes, momentarily blinding her.

Panic sank its claws deep, but she fought it off. Think, Arizona, think.

Her next breath was the most immediate need, but, God, the river pulled at her, and without her arms to help, staying afloat was not only awkward, but nearly impossible. She choked on dirty water, shivered from the bone-deep chill.

Where was the shore? Which way and how far?

And if she made it there, then what?

They’d only throw her back in.

Probably with the added disadvantage of a bullet or knife wound.

Suddenly the chatter, the heckling, even the laughter stopped. Despite the rushing sounds of the river and the night and the raging storm, the loss of human words clamored against her brain.

Thighs screaming with exhaustion, despondency strangling her, she broke the water again—and saw a skirmish on the bridge.

It so surprised her that she went under again and swallowed a mouthful of the foul water. She kicked, but her legs felt leaden. Her lungs screamed, her shoulders ached so horribly from the unnatural pull of the tight bonds…

So tired that every muscle in her body cramped, she almost gave up—and then a splash sounded near her. Forgetting to kick her legs, she went under once more—and strong arms closed around her.

Fear surged, giving her renewed strength.

“Shh,” he said as he pulled her toward shore. “I’ve got you now. I swear it’s okay.”

A man, big and so incredibly strong that he controlled himself and her against the deep tug of the river.

But who, and why?

Unwilling to trust anyone, she head-butted him, making him curse. But he didn’t loosen his secure hold.

Oh, God, oh, God…

She kicked, and her heel connected a few times but gained her nothing. Thrashing, fighting, she did everything she could to get free, and still he dragged them nearer and nearer to the shore.

The moment his feet touched ground, she felt it. Seconds later hers did, too.

She didn’t scream, didn’t call out or cry. Instead, she did everything in her physical power to get free.

While continuing to shush her in that oddly soothing voice, he pinned her down in the muddy ground, immobilizing her legs, making her arms hurt more.

So tired. Muscles aching. Lungs burning.

Giving up seemed more and more likely.

“I’m going to cut you free now. Be still.”

A knife! But true to his word, he crouched over her, lifted her wrists and sliced through the nylon restraints.

Then he moved quickly out of her reach.

With her backside sliding on the muddy bank, she scrambled away. Her arms were useless, numb and tingling. Her legs were heavy with fatigue.

“It’s okay,” he said. He didn’t follow. He held his arms out and waited. “You can trust me.”

He couldn’t be serious. She trusted no one. No one. No one…

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ARIZONA AWOKE AS SHE OFTEN DID, with a near jolt, her heart thumping, adrenaline surging. She sat upright, and her gaze darted around, searching for any and all threats.

She found none.

Taking in the room with a sense of confusion, she tried to orient herself. Soft sheets covered her, so unlike the usual overstarched bedding in hotel rooms. Gray dawn flooded the room; gentle morning rain trickled over the window panes.

Cozy warmth surrounded her.

And now that she was awake, she felt unaccountably…safe.

Nice feelings. Unfamiliar, but…she moved her hand over the sheet. Something in the room smelled wonderful, and she filled her lungs on a deep breath—

“Morning.”

Shock took her pounding heart to a standstill. Sucking in air, she placed that deep, recognizable voice—and then oh-so-slowly turned her head to see Spencer stretched out beside her. Oooookay. The sheet just barely rested over his hip. One big hairy leg stuck out.

Her jaw loosened. “You’re naked.” The second she spoke, she felt the stiffness of her jaw. She touched it and knew she was bruised.

“In my boxers actually.” He lifted the sheet to show her.

Yeah…not much better. Spencer in boxers was enough to stop her heart. Especially when aroused. And he was.

Again.

Lord have mercy.

Marla hadn’t joked about his size. The man was big all over, a fact she’d noticed more than once.

Well. He sure got her heart going again, even faster than the damn nightmare had. By the moment, she became more alert.

“You’re okay?” he asked with concern.

“What?”

He nodded, his gaze on her face where she touched her jaw.