Читать книгу Scotland for Christmas - Cathryn Parry - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

FLIPPING HER SEAT warmer to the highest setting, Isabel enjoyed the warmth that seeped into her bum. She sighed, wriggling her thighs and stretching her toes.

Thirty minutes outside New York City, past the congestion and stops, the drive was more freeing to her than she’d expected.

She felt mostly awe as the SUV hugged the curves of one of the massive motorways she’d read about. They passed the hugest lorries she’d ever seen, most of them left in their dust. Jacob roared at a steady clip in the left lane, usually the slow lane for her—but everything was flipped backward for her, with the driver on the left-hand side of the car.

This was a five-hour drive away from the rut, the loneliness, the stalled disappointment that her life had become.

She gazed through the sparkling clean glass. Welcome, success. From now on, everything would be new again, including her.

They threaded through some pretty parkways that would connect to another major route, Route 91 in Connecticut, and then all the way north to Vermont. For too long, Isabel had been cooped up in the city, bound to her work. She had barely left her campus or residence hall, unless as part of her studies.

Two years ago, during student orientation, she’d been part of a group that had toured the stock market and watched the famous ringing of the bell, and another week, had walked through Central Park. She’d even toured the museums one rare Sunday.

But since classes had started, she’d never veered from the work it took to earn her degree. This was a fresh way to start over with a renewed attitude.

“How is it that you know your way around the countryside so easily?” she asked Jacob.

“This is Connecticut.” He shrugged. “I have family here.”

“You grew up here?”

He gave a tight nod. “I did.”

Such a different world. A different life. They shared a common language, but the States seemed so much more complicated and larger than what she was used to.

Louder, faster, more crowded. Their course through Jacob’s home territory changed to a gently rolling two-lane motorway with no lorries, only cars, and then again to a larger motorway. Jacob stayed in the left lane most of the drive north. He used a GPS, as she liked, though he kept the radio off. He drove carefully, not recklessly, but he didn’t fear speed traps.

They saw several pulled-over motorists with police officers in cars, issuing tickets.

“Yeah, that’s Connecticut,” Jacob mentioned with a smile.

“We tend to follow the rules in Scotland. Nobody likes to get fined.”

“That’s not a problem I have very often, being in law enforcement,” he replied.

She’d almost forgotten his profession. With each passing mile, rather than feeling anxious over going someplace new, someplace she was unsure how to act in, she felt calmer in his presence.

“There’s a rest stop up ahead,” he said. “I’m going to pull in. There are facilities and vending machines, but if you’d rather sit down to eat, there’s a better place about an hour up the road.”

“You know this route to Vermont well. Do you drive it often?”

He smiled slightly, as if to himself. “I haven’t been in Vermont since college, on a ski weekend.”

“We have skiing in Scotland, too,” she remarked.

He glanced at her. Those two frown lines were between his eyes again. “Do you live in Edinburgh?”

Was he asking if she was a city girl? She did live in the city, but during this drive through Connecticut, seeing all the trees again and the rolling hills, she was getting a bit homesick for the country.

“I have a flat in Edinburgh. I work in the corporate headquarters for my family’s company. But I grew up in the Highlands.”

Near Inverness. She felt a stab of nostalgia for the deep blue lochs, the glens, the relative ease with which one could drive past castles from east to west, North Sea to Irish Sea.

Jacob was staring at her.

“How much longer until Vermont?” she asked politely.

He laughed. “We’re not even in Massachusetts yet. We have two more state lines to cross.”

She took it to mean they had a lot more time to spend together in their cocooned, rolling world. That made her smile. And she didn’t have to fake it.

* * *

JACOB HAD PLANNED out the route already, days ago. He knew where each stop was that they would make. Nothing would be left to chance. This was how he worked, how he was trained.

And yet, he’d never had a protectee like Isabel.

She’d thrown him off balance yet again.

For one thing, she sat up front with him. For the past hour, she’d been toying with the satellite radio. She was putting on music that messed with his head. ʼ70s on 7, the station was called.

All kinds of old pop music that had played in their apartment back when he was a kid—just him and his mom, together in New York City. Sometimes even years later, alone in the new house in Connecticut with Daniel—Jacob’s stepdad—she would cry silently over those old songs when Daniel wasn’t around. She never told Jacob why, but he didn’t need to ask.

There were some things he wasn’t ever supposed to ask. They only caused sadness and silence. Daniel was a calm, levelheaded guy. He hated conflict in the home, and Jacob’s mom shared that aversion.

Jacob ran his hand through his hair. He was thinking all these things just because they were driving through the state where he’d lived in his teens. He’d learned every inch of this place like the back of his hand, but especially the tristate area: southern Connecticut, New York City metro and northern New Jersey.

They were traveling away from what he knew and toward the unknown—Isabel’s family wedding.

There was still so much he didn’t know about the Sage family. Normally, he would take the opportunity to quiz Isabel about her uncle, her cousins, the kidnapping—everything he needed to know for his job. Somehow, though, she had a tendency to answer him in such a way that he ended up being the one in emotional danger.

Just when he thought he had her figured out, she shocked him into realizing he was in completely new territory.

He glanced over at her. The woman was...well, she was obviously beautiful, but it was her vulnerability that he found most interesting—the real Isabel, not the one who was so poised on the surface. He didn’t know much about how most women thought—he’d only lived with Rachel for those few weeks—but watching Isabel in action, he’d been reminded of that bathroom drawer of makeup that he’d emptied once Rachel had decided to take up with her investment banker.

Isabel had fixed her smeared mascara back at their first rest stop. Brought in that huge bag of hers and had reemerged, poised again as if nothing had happened.

There was a lot she kept hidden behind the polite smile she showed the world. The crazy part was that he really did want to protect her. He wanted to keep her safe from ever crying again, especially over that idiot who’d flown in from Scotland just to dump her.

But at the same time, it would be reckless to forget she was the enemy of sorts.

She was part of the family he meant to discover more about, and without their knowing he was doing it or why. That would bring complications. He had to be careful. The only reason Isabel hadn’t ditched him so far was that he’d been on his best behavior.

He scowled to himself. He wasn’t usually so friendly and open to people, not by a long shot. He did his job with a minimum of words. Silent protection. And he did it well; nobody got hurt or killed on his watch. He didn’t accomplish that by being buddies with the VIPs.

But Isabel wanted Jacob to be pleasant, right along with her.

“Will we be seeing some of that famous New England foliage?” she asked him as they passed north into Massachusetts.

“No. I think we’re too late for that.”

“A pity. I regret that I never made time to see it. It’s supposed to be brilliant.”

“Ah...” Jacob rarely made time, either. “The leaves turn red and yellow in the city, as well, but you’re right, there’s nothing like the vividness of the mountains in Vermont and New Hampshire.”

“Then I’ll have to make plans for another year, maybe.” She smiled sleepily at him. “I’ll have to come back and do it right the next time I’m here.”

He doubted she’d ever be back.

He let out a breath. She had a scent that filled his SUV. Shampoo, or soap, or some kind of shower gel that just...smelled good.

Made him want to move closer to her, though he would never actually do it.

She had long limbs, too, long legs that filled the bucket seat, crossed at the ankle of her tall leather boots. She had slender fingers, the nails clipped short, unpainted. He liked that.

As he glanced over at her, she toyed with a pendant on a thin chain that hung over her turtleneck, her eyes drifting closed. Long lashes lay against her cheek. She’d tied back her hair in a ponytail, and it rested against her shoulder, making her look relaxed and untroubled.

“Jacob?”

“Yeah?” He snapped back to reality. The road was lulling him. She was lulling him. Building a rapport with Isabel Sage wasn’t on the agenda any longer, and it was time he shook that off.

All he needed was to get her safely to the inn and pass her to the bosom of her family. Then he could start phase two of his operation: arrange his meeting with John Sage.

“We’re almost there,” he mumbled.

“Could we please stop and eat dinner together first?” she asked. “I’m getting rather hungry.”

He sighed. A reasonable request. “Yeah, sure, there’s a good place just ahead.”

A few minutes later, an hour away from their destination, he pulled the SUV into the dirt parking lot of a roadside restaurant.

Once inside, he ordered from the counter and brought back hamburgers, French fries, a root beer for him and bottled water for her—all to their booth in the back.

He was starving; the tantalizing smell of prime Angus beef and salty, deep-fried potatoes made his mouth water. He settled himself into the seat across from her and then bent his head and concentrated on the meal.

“Thanks for taking care of me today,” she said softly, that gentle hint of Scotland back in her voice.

“Yeah, no problem,” he said between bites.

“I’ve been thinking.” She ran a finger around the edge of her French-fry carton, not meeting his gaze.

Please don’t think.

“Are you being nice to me just because you’re being paid to?” she asked.

Oh, hell. He put down his burger and wiped his mouth. “I’m not actually being paid, so...no, I don’t think so.”

She tilted her head at him. “Why aren’t you being paid?”

He couldn’t spook her. Had to maintain his cover. “Ah, because I’m doing a favor for my friend. Lee. He, ah, owns the security company.”

“And how do you know this Lee?”

Great. He’d just opened Pandora’s box.

Jacob crossed his arms and stared behind Isabel at the paneled wall and the old Orange Crush soda clock. “Lee was the team lead for my first few jobs in the Secret Service.”

“And...?” she prodded. She could really be a sharp cookie when she wanted to be. “What do you owe him?”

“Nothing. We’re friends—isn’t that enough?” Jacob concentrated on pounding the bottom of the glass ketchup bottle. “If I like somebody, I’ll do them a favor. No big deal.”

“Do you find that you ever get hurt that way?”

“You know, I’m trying not to take this whole line of questioning personally because I know you just got burned pretty badly,” he pointed out.

“Don’t show me any favors. Do something because you want to, or don’t do it at all. That’s my new philosophy.”

Where was this going? He raised an eyebrow at her. Maybe the breakup had affected her more than he realized. “Sure,” Jacob said. “Will do.”

“And I’ll do the same. With you, I mean. Nothing phony or pretend between us.”

He darted a gaze at her, but she was already staring at him. They both looked away. Then back again.

“Was Lee at your wedding?” she asked finally.

Whoa. He went very still.

But she didn’t move, either. She just waited patiently. Jacob carefully ran a French fry through the pool of ketchup he’d managed to coax onto his plate. Her question surprised him, but he didn’t feel so bad about answering. “I’m pretty sure Lee is the one who stayed and told everybody in the church to go home afterward.”

“That’s a good friend,” she said admiringly.

“Yeah. He is.” The details were kind of hazy at this point, though. “He did come back to my apartment later. I, ah, needed help with the bandages.”

“The bandages?”

“I’d punched a few walls. One of them turned out to be brick.”

She put her hand over her mouth. Her chest was moving up and down.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked.

“Sorry.” She giggled once, and it made her seem young. She giggled again and it was...well, it was the most interesting sound he’d heard in a while. He even felt his face splitting into a grin.

“This is so inappropriate, I know,” she said between chortles. “But suddenly, I don’t feel as bad about losing my breakfast in a coffee shop in midtown Manhattan.”

“Are you going to eat that hamburger?” he asked, pointing at her plate. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

She broke into another fit of giggles, and then suddenly he was laughing, too.

Just...damn.

Back in the SUV, facing the road again, Jacob sobered. He couldn’t forget that he was walking a fine line, so many fine lines.

Maybe that part about Lee had slipped out because of where they were headed. He and Isabel each had damn good reasons not to be keen on wedding celebrations.

He just felt gentle with her. In a sense, she was a kindred spirit, phase two of his operation or not.

“Thank you for telling me that story,” she said softly as she buckled her seat belt. “And thank you for being kind today.”

“You think I’m kind?”

“You are kind,” she said. And then she went back to fiddling with the radio.

Jacob was more often accused of being insensitive. Or aloof. Intense was Eddie’s word. Jacob was pretty sure he got that from Rachel, who, now that he thought of it, had coined the term first. Eddie’s wife, Donna, was the one who’d really latched on to it of late, though.

She hadn’t been at Jacob’s wedding—almost wedding—but Jacob was pretty sure that Eddie had told her the lurid details. Hence her obsession with fixing Jacob up.

Isabel had seemed to respond to his intensity. Maybe she had some natural intensity of her own deep inside her, dying to come out. Maybe it had taken the shock of Alex dumping her for it to escape through that protective surface of hers.

And Rachel... Until today, he hadn’t thought of her in years. At this point, she was nothing to him. The thought of her stirred no feelings, one way or another. She’d been a drama queen—open and direct, the opposite of his mom. He’d mistaken that for intensity, and at the time, he’d craved it because it had been such a novelty to him—someone who wanted to pick everything apart and react expressively to it. After being brought up in a mostly silent home, where people tended to withdraw above all, it had been intensely appealing to find someone who thrived on emotion.

Jacob squinted to find the turnoff he needed. They were almost there.

Isabel stirred next to him. Stretched like a cat, totally not conscious of him. Comfortable in his presence.

And something about that just grabbed him and held on.

Don’t, he told himself. Let her be just a job.

He reminded himself of that over and over during the rest of the drive.

* * *

THERE WAS SOMETHING wonderfully freeing about sitting next to a man whom she didn’t need to give one fig about impressing. Isabel could put her head back on the seat. Let her hair down. Not worry that it was dark outside and the SUV’s engine was lulling her to sleep.

She’d forgotten how freeing it was to be on the road for a long drive. In her fantasies she could get in a car and drive all day, just get away from her life.

It felt like being in a fairy tale with him, nothing close to her everyday reality.

“Knowing Me, Knowing You” by Abba was playing on the radio. She found herself singing along about breaking up never being easy. She put her hand over her mouth and broke into laughter again. That had sounded terrible.

“I don’t care,” she said aloud. She felt tired of needing to put on a good front. Tired of living for tomorrow. She just wanted to laugh and sing and feel better now. “Do you mind if I turn up the volume?” she asked Jacob.