The Survivor Excerpt:

How's your butt?

“How’s your butt?”

Indignation colored her cheeks. “Excuse me?”

For the first time since they’d met, he shot her a grin. “I mean, is it cold or anything? This car has top-of-the-line seat warmers. I could turn yours on if you’d like.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay,” she stammered, still feeling winded by the unexpected smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. Lord, this man looked gorgeous when he smiled.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged and turned on the ignition, then pressed a button under the dashboard and gave a contented sigh. “God bless seat warmers.”

Oh to be the seat under that man’s ass.

The sly little thought popped into her head before she could stop it. It was exactly the type of thing she would’ve thought once upon a time, when she’d had a successful modeling career and a parade of men at her door. Her best friend, Susan, had always teased her about the mischievous little comments she’d used to make.

God, she missed the days when she’d been…carefree. Happy. She missed Susan, too, but she knew that temporarily severing ties with the people in her life was for the best.

She leaned against the soft headrest behind her, shooting Blake a sideways glance as he backed out of the driveway and turned the SUV around. They didn’t speak as he drove down the icy road. She listened to the sound of snow crunching underneath the tires and the soft strains of country music floating out of the stereo speakers.

Her pulse quickened the moment they turned onto the main street leading toward the highway. She inhaled slowly, willing her pulse to slow. She didn’t want Blake to know that the thought of returning to civilization scared the crap out of her.

“It’ll be okay, Samantha.”

His quiet voice and words of reassurance made surprise jolt through her. Had he read her mind, or was her fear written on her face? She hadn’t thought it was, but since the idea of her features giving her away wasn’t as unsettling as the idea of Blake finding a way into her head, she preferred to consider herself transparent.

“Sam,” she finally said, not responding to his astute remark. “You can call me Sam.”

“All right. It’ll be okay, Sam,” he repeated.

“I know.” She blew out a shaky breath. “Of course it’ll be okay.”