Tuesday Tales - Bridge

Hi everyone! Welcome to Tuesday Tales!
This week’s word Prompt is “bridge” We’re back with Athena (Anna) and Mack in the second book of The Gods of DC Series.
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*Warning - there are adult situations and language.**

She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “I’m a slave to modern technology. I don’t have his number memorized.”
“There’s a phone book beside it,” Mack offered.
“The number I need wouldn’t be in the phone book. Where am I, anyway?”
Mack grinned. “Well, Miss, you are in the great state of Georgia, somewhere in the god forsaken part of the Okefenokee Swamp.”
“It’s not god forsaken anymore,” she muttered as her face grew paler than it already was.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I just, I have no one to call. The only person I know to call I wouldn’t right now.”
“And who might that be? I don’t want you to wilt here in the muck without your technology.”
He could hear this woman named Anna growl. “Trust me. I’m far from fragile. The only person I know with a connection to the state of Georgia is my father. He’s from Athens.”
Mack’s eyes grew to slits. “That’s where I recognize you from. You’re Senator Alastair Lynch’s kid. I’ve seen you in the newspaper ads posing with your ridiculous family.”
“Excuse me?” Her voice pitched three octaves higher as her fists flew to her hips. She was even sexier when she was downright pissed. Mack bit back a guttural moan. He needed to get rid of this woman.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend or fiancé or something to call? Probably a stockbroker or something?”
“Nope, sorry. Kind of married to my job.”
“Then call your dad.”
“My dad is going to be very pissed that I took off with a billion dollar prototype and crashed it in the swamp, okay?”
The words slipped out before Mack could stop them, his voice catching a bit from the lust building in him. “Daddy’s girl.”
Her face screwed up with a scowl as she stumbled to her feet. “You know what? I’ll walk to the nearest town. Thanks for saving my life but I don’t need to take anymore of your shit.”
She stalked to the door. This was the answer to all of Mack’s prayers. The little spitfire was about to be out of his life. Except some unknown force took control of his legs and sprinted him to the door, slamming him against it before she could reach the knob. She looked up and glared at him, her lips less than an inch from his. Her warm breath on his mouth nearly snapped his already weak resolve.
“You’ll be dead by the time you reach the end of the lane. If the swamp doesn’t get you, the gators will,” he told her, his voice a low rumble. “Why don’t you be a good girl and go take a shower. The bathroom is off my bedroom. I’ll find you some clothes.”
“Stop being condescending to me,” she warned. She leveled him one more furious look before she lifted herself on her toes enough to touch her lips to his. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a tease.