Playing Love's Odds (A Classic Sexy Romantic Suspense) - Plot & Excerpts
He managed it fairly well for a man with both hands tied behind his back. Literally. "I thought it was one of my more spectacular moves." "Spectacularly stupid, you mean." Hannah struggled against her bonds, wincing as her head smacked the interior wall of the truck. The driver braked to a jolting stop then gunned the engine to life. Hannah felt like a ping-pong ball gone berserk. His back against the opposite wall, Logan looked incredibly cool, disgustingly relaxed, invincible. "Don't fight the motion," he advised. "Move with it. Like riding a horse." "Like riding a horse," she mimicked under her breath. The truck jerked again. She banged her head again and wanted nothing more than to rub the soreness from the bump. Unless it was to slap that smooth expression of control off Logan's face. "I guess considering the horse metaphor, not to mention your amazing sense of calm, the cavalry must be right behind." "Don't have the faintest." "What do you mean you don't have the faintest?" Her voice caught in her throat.
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