“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Awesome. It’s colder than the fucking South Pole out there. And I’ve been to the South Pole.” He rubbed his hands rapidly up and down his arms, then tried to brush off the snow. Delaney reached over and helped him, bumping her head against his in the process.
“It’s OK. I’ve got it,” he said. He turned the key. The car moaned and choked before the engine finally turned over. “We’ve got about ten minutes to heat up the car and then we have to turn it back off. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
Chapter 11
TEN MINUTES TURNED INTO THIRTY, and the temperature inside the car plummeted. It was beyond frigid. It was whatever temperature came right after ice age and just before the end of days. Delaney couldn’t stop shivering. She was like one of those creepy little wind-up monkeys that clashed brass cymbals together and clicked their teeth.
“I don’t suppose you could knit us a blanket, could you?” Grant tried to tease, but mostly he sounded frozen.
“I don’t think so. My fingers are numb.” She’d retrieved the yarn and needles from where they’d flown to the floor and stuffed everything into a bag that now sat uselessly in the backseat.
“OK, in that case, I’m totally not making a pass at you, but we need to share some heat. Tilt your seat back as far as it will go.”
She didn’t care if he was making a pass. Whatever it took to get warm. She pulled the metal bar under her seat and it creaked backward until it hit the backseat cushion. She looked at him for further instructions. Her brain was too frozen to formulate a question.
“Good. Now unzip your coat.”
What? That her brain needed clarification on. “Unzip? Why would I unzip it?”
“Because we’re going to combine body heat and that will work better if we’re . . . sweater to sweater instead of coat to coat. Just trust me.” He unzipped his own coat.
She didn’t have much choice but to trust him. She unzipped her coat and leaned back. Grant moved his right leg around the stick shift and pushed off from his seat. He got stuck for a minute, his hip caught up against the steering wheel. Then it popped free, and he landed on Delaney with a thud. The air burst from her lungs and the seat belt bruise ached again. She gasped loudly.
“Oh! Sorry,” he said. “That could’ve gone better. Are you OK?”
She nodded and drew in a deep breath as he lifted his chest up off of hers. Their legs were tangled, and he moved so that one of his was between hers and the door, as if he was trying to completely cocoon her in the shell of his making, which would be nice if it wasn’t so completely and utterly awkward.
“Put your arms around me, inside my coat. I know this is a little . . . personal, but trust me, we’re going to be a lot warmer this way.”
She believed him. She felt every inch of her skin heating up, some spots more than others, as he settled himself on top of her like a big blanket of Grant. She slid her arms up under his coat and around his waist, lacing her fingers together.
“I’m sorry if I’m heavy, but you’ll be warmer underneath me.”
He adjusted his legs again, settling in against her. He was heavy, but it felt good. Not just because he was warm but because she felt safe, for the moment, and if she could feel safe under these circumstances, well, that was saying something.
Grant’s face was inches from hers. There was no avoiding eye contact.
It was as if he was about to kiss her. And she wanted him to kiss her. It wasn’t just because he was all pressed up against her business. She’d wanted to kiss him for days. It was partly why she’d been so ready to leave Bell Harbor. Her attraction to him was a problem she didn’t have the emotional strength to overcome.
His smile turned sheepish and at last he rested his head against the crook of her neck and sighed. His breath was wonderfully warm against her skin. It was all so unavoidably intimate.
“So . . .” he said about fifteen seconds later. “What do you want to talk about?”
She giggled at that, but the sound held a hint of hysteria. She could feel the edges of it tapping at her mind. She’d just wanted a little peace and quiet, a little privacy. She hadn’t meant to end up here, but oh, what irony would it be if her ultimate fate was death by cameraman?
“How about if we don’t talk at all?” she said.
“Oh, I need to talk. I need us to talk about something completely unsexy. Like the most unsexy thing imaginable.” He lifted his head and his hazel-green eyes met hers. His voice was terse and stretched thin.
“Why do you need—? Ohh . . .” Delaney caught his meaning. Poor man. Poor testosterone-driven man with no control over the blood flow inside his own body. Now her laughter was prompted from genuine humor.
He let out a puff of icy breath. “God, don’t do that. Don’t laugh. When you laugh your whole body wiggles and that’ll make it even worse.”