Taylor only knew for sure where she was when she drove over one of the bumps.

Too far right. She was practically on the shoulder. Not good.

She corrected, steering a little more to the left, frowning hard, trying to see the road, knowing it curved somewhere near here, a fairly sharp curve which wasn’t a problem during the day but could be treacherous at night. She was concentrating very hard on staying off the reflector bumps and in the middle of her lane when suddenly a row of red lights glowed. It was a big rig truck hitting its brakes.

Taylor hadn’t even known a vehicle was in front of her, and she slammed on her brakes to avoid rear-ending it, which put her in a skid on the ice.

Braking hard on ice was the absolute wrong thing to do. She was supposed to pump the brakes, supposed to keep the brakes from locking. Too late.

Her tires spun, and her car spun, and she went careening off the shoulder before slamming violently into the metal side guard.

Her airbag deployed, the impact knocking the air from her.

Taylor knew she’d stopped moving when everything grew still and quiet. She sat for a moment, dazed, barely able to see over the airbag.

Cautiously, she opened her door and stepped out into the snow. She shivered as she inspected her car where it had slammed into the guardrail. The guardrail was twisted and bent, but it had stopped her car from going over the edge.

Good guardrail.

“That was close,” a deep male voice said from behind her. “You alright?”

“I think so,” she answered, swaying a bit as she turned around. A man was walking towards her, his big SUV parked just behind her car, his headlamps on high beams to illuminate the highway shoulder. “Just shaken up more than anything.”

The man walked past her, took a look at the guardrail and crushed hood, before returning. “That guardrail saved you.”

“I know.”

“What happened?”

“The truck in front of me slammed on its brakes, and I had nowhere to go.”

“You were following it too closely?”

“I didn’t even know it was there.”

He nodded. “It’s bad. Total white out conditions. None of us should be on the road.”

“I just wanted to get home.”

“Where were you heading?”

“Marietta.”

“That’s where I’m going. Let me give you a ride.”

Taylor glanced back at his big black SUV with the headlights shining on them. It looked like a new car, and expensive. She gave him the same once-over. He looked expensive, too. Clean cut. Attractive, with black hair, smooth hard jaw, strong, classic features. “Are you safe?” she asked, only half joking.

“Safer than the storm.”

“Not sure that’s hugely reassuring.”

He laughed, the sound deep, warm as well as very confident. “Sorry. Let me introduce myself.” He stuck out a hand and smiled down on her, white teeth glinting, and creases fanning at the corners of his eyes. “I’m Troy Sheenan.”

Chapter Two

‡‡

Of course he was, Taylor thought, adjusting the seatbelt across her lap, and then crossing her leg at the knee, trying to make herself comfortable in the big black SUV’s passenger seat.

And of course it would be Troy Sheenan who’d plucked her from the side of the road, as if he were a gallant knight, instead of an errant knight.

A playboy.

A rake.

It felt satisfying to silently hurl names at him, but it wasn’t helping make her more comfortable. She couldn’t relax. Couldn’t catch her breath.

It was his fault. Troy Sheenan.

Taylor’s fingers curled into her palms.