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he heard a loud crash in the brush ahead.
    Colt clicked off his flashlight, listening. Despite the steady patter of raindrops, he could hear something moving in the dense trees ahead, so he stopped to listen. While there were a few wildcats in the area—not many—they wouldn’t be out in the storm. Wild boar might, though, or a coyote.
    He paused, waiting.
    Another crash. Then, a softly muttered, “Fiddlesticks.”
    He didn’t know whether to laugh or roll his eyes in annoyance. Of course she was out here. His suspicions were confirmed when a low call of “Lucy? Lucy, are you out here?” echoed through the woods.
    He stepped forward out of the brush, toward her.
    It took him a moment or two to find her—he was mostlyfollowing the thrashes—when he turned on his flashlight again, and the light caught on something glittering.
    “Who’s there?” she called at the same time, a bit of hope in her voice. “Lucy?”
    He stepped out toward her and caught his first good look at Beth Ann Williamson.
    She was soaked. Her long blonde hair was plastered to her skull, her bangs like daggers over her pale forehead. She wore some sort of blanket over her shoulders, and a peach-colored sparkly dress clung to her wet body like a second skin. Her breasts were outlined by the damp, clinging fabric, and the shadow of her nipples could be seen through the pale material. Not that he needed that to see them—her nipples were hard as rocks and standing at attention. Her dress was so thin he could even see the vee of her hips under the fabric, and his cock automatically hardened at the sight. Her legs were slick and damp and pale with cold. Below the knee, her calves and feet were covered in mud. She’d clearly been wearing a lot of makeup before coming out—it was smeared over her high cheekbones and dribbled down her face in black streams. She clutched a bag in her hand.
    She looked like an utter wreck.
    At the sight of him, Beth Ann stopped short. A look of surprise crossed her face, and then her eyes narrowed. “What are
you
doing here?”
    He was kind of used to that sort of response from her. They’d formed a momentary truce when Miranda and Dane had gotten engaged, but it had quickly fizzled back into intense dislike on both sides. “I’m here saving your ass.”
    She huffed, an action that made her wet breasts heave and hiscock jerk in response at the sight. “I don’t need saving, Colt. I need to find my sister.”
    She was so outraged at the sight of him. It was damn funny to watch. And, okay, a little arousing. “You look like something out of a horror movie,” he drawled, unable to quit looking at those magnificent, heaving wet breasts. She was something out of a horror movie all right. The hot, sexy starlet that took her top off and got fucked by someone for five minutes on screen. Damn. He shifted in the mud. Why the hell was he so turned on by the sight of her all wet and helpless? She had a fine body, but it came attached to that yapping mouth of hers.
    A mouth that had just dropped open in shock. “A horror movie?” Beth Ann repeated, stunned. “How
dare
you!”
    “That’s not what I meant,” he began, and then scowled when she glared at him and turned her back. She was determined to find insult in whatever he said, it’d seem. Prickly woman. Madder than hell and still trying to be a lady about things. “You’re misunderstanding me. I’m here to rescue you.”
    “Rescue me? Oh,
really
.” Beth Ann turned as if the word made her furious. She put her hands on her hips, the wet bag bouncing against her side as she did. “Here to be the big hero?”
    Well, he didn’t like to think of it that way. “I guess.”
    “Is this some sort of macho joke?”
    He raised an eyebrow. Why would he joke about a rescue?
    She laughed, the sound bitter and harsh. “Oh, this is unreal. You really do think you’re here to rescue me, don’t you? How cute. I’m sure that’s what everyone told you—that poor little