Hell on Wheels: A Loveswept Classic Romance by Karen Leabo

laugh at herself, and anyone who got too bold with his comments received a healthy dose of her acid wit. But every once in a while Roan caught a glimpse of the pain behind her tranquil hazel eyes. Her friends had no way of knowing how shaken her self-confidence was at the moment, how insecure she felt without Amos.
    Eventually the talk turned to chase trips in years gone by, and Roan enjoyed hearing the war stories. As he listened to the others reminisce, he realized that each tornado had its own personality. The storms assumed a wide range of shapes, sizes, and colors. Some, like today’s, were weak, short-lived, and relatively harmless. Others were destructive and deadly, causing millions of dollars in damage and loss of life.
    He also began to understand something of the storm-chaser’s psyche. For most of them, it wasn’t just the excitement or the danger that lured them. It was more like a religion. It was something they had to do, year after year.
    Roan could respect that, but he couldn’t really relate to it. He was eager to experience a tornado, but once he’d accomplished that, he would be ready to move on to something else.
    “Are you ready?” Victoria asked. She had leaned close so he could hear her above the boisterous chatter.
    “Ready to go, you mean?” Or ready to jump on top of you? Oh, hell, he had to stop allowing these lasciviousthoughts about Vicky to take him by surprise. She didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect. She deserved flowers and candlelight and a man who knew how to stick around, and sticking around was one thing he didn’t know how to do.
    He figured it was all that moving around as an army brat. He’d learned never to form deep relationships, because that way it wouldn’t be so hard to say good-bye. He was still true to his upbringing. Hadn’t he just been thinking about moving on to the next thrill?
    Then again, maybe Victoria herself would make a dandy next thrill.
    “I’m bushed,” she said, throwing some money on the table to cover their portion of the tab. Roan reached for his wallet, but she stopped him. “It’s my turn. You’re not obligated to finance the whole trip, you know.”
    Yeah, but there was enough of the macho male in him to want to buy her dinner. When the others had been teasing her, he’d had to bite his tongue to keep from defending her. And later, he’d started to feel this crazy possessiveness toward her. It was obvious the other chasers, almost all men, liked and respected her, even if they did give her a hard time. None of them were immune to her beauty either. Roan had seen quite a few covert glances in her direction, eyes full of admiration and sometimes downright lust. And he’d felt good knowing that later he would leave with her, and have her all to himself—at least for as long as it took them to find a motel and book separate rooms.
    He sighed at the hopelessness of the situation. It washell being attracted to a woman who was strictly off-limits.
    As they left the restaurant, the cool evening air surprised them. Victoria shivered. “Brrr, the cold front is definitely here.”
    In a purely reflexive gesture, Roan slid an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her bare arm. Amazingly, she didn’t resist, didn’t even act surprised. She just tucked herself against his shoulder as they walked briskly across the parking lot. He supposed that meant she’d come to trust him—which made him feel doubly guilty for the things he was thinking about her.
    She fumbled with the keys in her purse. Roan took them from her and unlocked her door as he sheltered her from the keen wind with his body. But instead of opening the door, he pressed the keys into her hand, then swiveled her around so she was facing him, her back against the van.
    “You are one helluva woman, you know that?”
    “Wh-what are you talking about?”
    “Back there in the restaurant. When those yo-yos were giving you such a hard time. Most women would have dissolved into tears