And this was no time to be thinking about sex. Not when he had a half-drowned woman on his hands...well, in his car, at least, since he’d promised her his hands weren’t going to come anywhere near her.

Knowing his leather interior was never going to be the same after the water and mud hit them, Chase opened the driver’s side door and slid inside. Steam rose from their clothes, condensation covering the inside of the windows, making the car feel even more intimate than it already was. Chase couldn’t help but notice that his surprise passenger smelled good, like rain and freshly bloomed flowers.

“Where were you headed?” he asked.

Instead of answering his question, she said, “If you could just take me to the nearest motel, that’d be great.” She paused for a moment before adding, “Someplace cheap would be best.”

With his plans for the evening falling apart one soaking-wet minute at a time—along with the fact that he was trying to repress the way her scent was driving his senses crazy—Chase’s voice was gruffer than usual as he offered, “Look, I’ve got a free place for you to stay for the night. We can call road assistance from there.”

It would be better to wait until she was dry and warm again to break it to her that even though road assistance would be able to pull her car out of the ditch, they probably wouldn’t be able to make it run again.

“Thanks for the offer,” she said, her words still wary, but firm, too. “Really, a motel is fine.” She shrugged, an outline of moving shoulders in the dark interior of his car. “And don’t bother calling road assistance. At this point I might as well leave my car in the ditch.”

The exhaustion in her voice fought with an underlying strength for dominance. While she clearly didn’t have the money to deal with any of this, she wasn’t sitting in his car crying about it.

Chase knew he should just take her to a motel. Lord knew she’d told him to do that more than once already. But there was no way he could leave her in some dank motel. Not if he wanted to be able look at himself in the mirror in the morning without seeing the word ass**le written across his forehead.

Besides, every instinct he possessed told him she needed more help than just a ride to a motel.

Chase had learned early on from his mother and sisters not to mess with what a woman wanted. He knew better, knew this woman would be pissed off with what he was about to do.

But none of that, none of the warning buzzers that were going off in his head, were enough to stop him from deciding to help her anyway.

He turned the key in the ignition and as he carefully pulled back onto the road, he realized he didn’t know her name. Considering he was taking her to the warmth and comfort of the large guest house at his brother’s winery—whether she wanted to go there or not—he figured a couple of formalities wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“I’m Chase Sullivan.”

No sound came from the passenger seat and, inexplicably, he found himself fighting a grin. When was the last time a woman hadn’t thrown herself at him?

Then again, this one hadn’t told him anything at all, had she? Not just her name, but where she was headed.

Something was definitely up. It would be a much better idea if he could let it go, take her to a motel so that he could get on with his night of meaningless sex with Ellen at the winery.

So then, why wasn’t he doing just that?

And why the hell did he feel strangely drawn to this complete stranger?

He let the silence ride out between them, knowing she’d only answer if she felt comfortable enough with him to do so.

Finally, she said, “My name is Chloe.”

A pretty name. He normally would have told her so, but she was so touchy she’d probably take it the wrong way. He also noticed she didn’t tell him her last name.

She craned her neck to look out the window at a dimly lit sign. “Where are you going?” she asked, panic clearly threaded through each vowel. “Town is the opposite direction.”

Fortunately, right then he saw the Sullivan Winery sign, hit the remote to open the gates, and started up the narrow road.

“Chase.”

Her voice held a strong note of warning, but it certainly didn’t stop him from liking the way his name sounded on her lips.

“I told you to take me to a motel.”

He thought about the different ways he could respond, if he should make excuses or be placating. But sensing she’d see through his bullshit in a way most women rarely did, he simply said, “The guest house is closer. Nicer, too.”

She made a barely muffled sound of irritation. “Do you always ignore what people want and do what you want to do anyway?”

Again, there were several possible responses. But only one honest one. “Pretty much.”

“Your mother must be so proud,” Chloe said, sarcastically.

He liked the way the words rolled right off her tongue, as if she was getting a little more comfortable with the idea of being in his car, but a moment later, judging by the way she shifted uncomfortably in the seat, he knew she was worried about her off-the-cuff response.

Speaking as easily as he could, he said, “Fortunately, I have five brothers and two hellcat sisters to distract her.”

He hoped she’d give another unguarded response to that piece of information and was glad when she turned back to him and said, “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. Eight of us in all.” He took his eyes off the road long enough to grin at her.

She shook her head. “Your mother must be a saint.”

Good. He’d managed to distract her for a few moments, long enough to pull up behind the guest house. And this time, she didn’t seem to be worried by what she’d said - or how he would react to it.

“Look,” he said softly, “I know you’d rather not be here, but my brother owns this winery and I can’t see how it makes sense to pay for a crappy room in some dump on the side of the freeway when there are five empty bedrooms right here.”

“I don’t know you,” she said again.

“I know you don’t. And, trust me, if you were either of my sisters I wouldn’t want you to trust some guy who picked you up on the side of the road in the middle of a rainstorm.” He noted her surprise at the way he’d agreed with her innate wariness of him. “That’s why all I’m going to do is get you settled and then I’ll leave and head over to my brother’s house on the other side of the property.”

He waited for her to say no again. And the truth was, if she flat-out insisted on going to a motel, outside of throwing her over his shoulder and chaining her to one of the beds in his brother’s guest house, he was going to have to do what she wanted.