Beth Andrews - His Secret Agenda

She grabbed her cell phone and stuck it in her coat pocket. “All set,” she told him, zipping her coat.

He held the door open for her and they stepped outside into the cold night air. The wind blew her hair into her face as she locked the door. Shivering, she pulled on her gloves.

He flipped up the collar on his coat and hunched his shoulders. “You shouldn’t park so far from the building,” he said, nodding toward her red SUV at the other end of the snow-covered lot. “Especially since you leave work so late.”

“You sound like Jack again.” She carefully stepped off the sidewalk, not the least bit surprised when he took her arm so she wouldn’t slip. One thing she did trust about Dean Garret—his manners were the real deal. “I usually do, but when I got to work, the guy who takes care of the parking lot for me was plowing, so I had to stay out of his way.”

They kept their heads down as they slowly made their way. While her high-heeled boots were stylish, they weren’t exactly practical. But Dean, God bless him, didn’t comment or try to hurry her along. He just matched his pace to hers.

The wind blew swirls of snow, like little white tornadoes, around them. She stole a glance at Dean’s strong profile. There was no doubt about it. He was one sexy cowboy. He was also, she reminded herself, new in town. He didn’t have any friends and was staying in a half-rate motel that didn’t even have a minifridge. And really, after the way he’d helped her out by pitching in behind the bar, the least she could do was make sure he had a hot meal.

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