Читать книгу Marooned With a Marine - Maureen Child - Страница 8

She looked like a drowned rat.

And still was more beautiful than any other woman he’d ever known. Damn it.

Sam just stared at her for a long minute, looking his fill, feeding the need that had been riding him for two long months. Damn. It felt as though it had been years since he’d seen her last. Not weeks.

His instincts had drawn him to the disabled car with its hazard lights blinking. With this kind of storm coming in, he hadn’t been able to just drive on past someone who might need help. It hadn’t been until the last minute, when he’d recognized her car, that he’d known he was about to pay a price for his chivalry.

The price being, he could look at her, but he couldn’t touch her.

And knowing that made him angry, giving his voice more bite than he’d intended when he swiped one hand across his face and asked, “What the hell are you still doing here? You should have evacuated hours ago.”

Finely arched blond eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “Hello, Pot?” she said. “This is Kettle. You’re black.”

“Very funny,” he said, acknowledging that he, too, should have long since left town. “But my situation’s a little different.”

“Really?” she asked, and ate a piece of chocolate. “How’s that?”

“Well for one thing,” he told her, with a glance out the windshield at her DOA car, “my car works.”

She frowned at him.

“I told you three months ago,” he said, “that car was on its last legs. It’s a rolling disaster.” He shook his head in disgust. “I told you not to count on that thing.”

She shifted in her seat, unwrapped another chocolate and popped it into her mouth before answering. Like it was some sort of magic confidence pill. But then, hadn’t she always reached for chocolate when she was nervous? Or upset. Or happy. As he recalled, chocolate was a major part of Karen Beckett’s personality.

“Yes, you did,” she said, “but it lasted three months longer than you thought it would, didn’t it?”

“Sure,” he said, nodding, “it lasted until you really needed it. Then it died.”

“Look, Sam…”

Most stubborn, hardheaded female he’d ever met. “For Pete’s sake, Karen,” he blurted, frustration boiling within him. “If I hadn’t come along, what would you have done? You’d have been stuck here. In the middle of nowhere, riding out a hurricane in that worthless piece of automotive engineering.”

She stiffened and got that “queen to peasant” look on her face. “I would have been fine.”

“Yeah, right.” He nodded again, feeling that old familiar flash of irritation sweep through him. Nobody, but nobody could get to him like Karen Beckett. “First thing I noticed when I pulled up to save your butt was how well you were doing.”

Giving him a glare that would have toasted a lesser man, Karen gathered up her purse and chocolates, then reached for the door handle. “Y’know what? If listening to another one of your lectures is the price of a ride…I’d rather walk.”

She threw the passenger door open and a sheet of rain sliced into the car. Instantly, Sam lunged across her lap, grabbed the armrest and yanked, slamming the car door shut again. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You did, too,” she countered, and pushed at him until he was back on his own side of the car. “Just now you said—”

“Okay, look,” Sam said loudly, and held up both hands in mock surrender. “This is nuts.”

She sighed heavily, folded her arms across her front and stared straight ahead.

He studied her profile for a long, silent minute, then said, “There’s no reason for us to fight, Karen. We’re not together anymore.” And just hearing those words spoken aloud was enough to tighten a twinge of regret around his heart.

“True,” she said quietly.

A rush of wind pushed at his car and rattled the windows. Rain clattered onto the hood and roof, sounding like a chorus line of Irish folk dancers. Outside, the world was wild and raw with Mother Nature shaking her fists at the people who sometimes forgot just who was in charge around here.

He shifted his gaze to the watery scene beyond the car and tried to remember what was important here. Not the fact that they’d broken up. Not the fact that his heart still ached for wanting her. But the very real threat charging down on them.

He wasn’t worried so much for himself, but now that he had Karen to look out for, he damn sure was going to see to it that she stayed safe.

Pulling in a deep breath, he swiveled his head to look at her. And in the dim, reflected light from the dashboard, she looked worried. Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip and her gaze was locked on the raging storm. He knew she was wishing she were anywhere but there. And a part of him didn’t blame her in the slightest. But a bigger part of him was glad she was with him. At least this way, he’d know that she was safe.

“So,” he said, just loud enough to be heard above the storm, “we call a temporary truce?”

She turned her head to look at him and seemed to be considering his offer. Finally though, she nodded. “A truce.” Then she held out her right hand to seal their bargain with a shake.

He took her hand in his and the instant their skin brushed together, he felt a blast of electricity shoot up the length of his arm and dazzle his brain. Sam released her quickly, but it wasn’t in time to keep that shock of desire from rocketing around inside his chest and squeezing his heart.

She must have felt it, too, he told himself as he watched her reach for another chocolate. Her fingers trembled as she peeled off the foil, and he knew that what had been between them was far from dead.

But that hardly mattered, did it? She’d made her feelings clear two months ago when she’d walked away from him without so much as a backward glance.

Clearing his throat, he buried old hurts and said instead, “You keep eating chocolate like you do and you’re gonna lose all your teeth before you’re forty.”

“It’ll be worth it,” she muttered.

“And when they’re all gone, how will you eat chocolate then?”

She glanced at him. “Chocolate malts. Through a straw.”

“Hardhead.”

“Bully.”

Sam grinned and watched a little smile tug at one corner of her mouth. Damned if he hadn’t missed their little…discussions. Almost as much as he’d missed…other things.

“Well,” he said, and fired up the engine, “what do you say we find a place to ride this storm out?”

“Ya-hoo, Tonto.”

“Hey,” he protested. “It’s my car, I get to be the Lone Ranger. You’re Kemosabe.”

When her cell phone rang twenty minutes later, Karen was so happy it was working again, she didn’t bother to wonder who might be calling her at 3:00 a.m.

She might have known.

“Hi, Mom,” she said, and threw a glance at Sam. His chuckle was enough to make her grit her teeth.

“Karen, honey—” Her mother’s voice came through despite the static. “Where are you? Someplace safe, I hope.”

“Of course I’m safe,” she replied. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, she wasn’t so sure. Being this close to Sam Paretti again wasn’t a good idea. The memories of their time together were too fresh. Too strong. Too tantalizing.

“How far inland are you?” her mother asked, splintering Karen’s thoughts and dragging her back to the present.

“Actually, I’m on my way.”

“On your way?” her mother asked. “You should have left town hours ago.”

“Traffic was too bad to leave earlier,” she said, telling both her mother and Sam.

“Martha…” Karen’s father, apparently on the extension, spoke up. “Now that we know she’s all right, why don’t we hang up and let her get where she’s going?”

“Thanks, Dad.” She could always count on her father to keep a sane head.

“None of this would have been happening if you hadn’t moved,” her mother pointed out. “You could be safe and sound here in California….”

“Waiting for the Big One with the rest of us,” her father interrupted.

“Mom, I’m perfectly safe—”

“Now,” Sam added his two cents.

“Who was that?” her mother asked.

Karen closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “Uh…” She tossed a glare at Sam, who didn’t seem the least bit affected. “I’m with a friend,” she finally said.

He laughed at the strained tone of her voice as she stumbled over the word friend.

Fine, they weren’t friends, she thought. But they weren’t lovers anymore, either. So what did that make them…friendly enemies?

“Which friend?” her mother asked.

“Martha…”

“Say hello for me,” Sam said, in a tone loud enough to carry.

She sighed, giving into the inevitable. “It’s Sam. He says hello.”

“Sam? You didn’t tell me you were seeing him again.”

“I’m not seeing him—”

Sam laughed again and she wanted to scream.

“Karen, what is going on—”

“I hate to interrupt,” Karen said, not really minding at all, since it was the only sure way to get her mother’s attention. “But I really should help Sam watch the road.”

“You do that, honey,” her dad said, adding, “you and Sam take care now.”

“That’s right,” her mom said briskly. “Now, I’ve lived through my share of those hurricanes—which is one of the reasons I left the East Coast—so I know what it’s like. You get inland and call me when you can. The phone lines will probably go down and—”

“Martha…” Stuart Beckett’s voice became a bit sterner.

“I know, I know. Okay, honey, now don’t you stop until you’re safe.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Karen smiled into the phone. Despite the fact that her parents, like any other set of parents, could drive her insane at a moment’s notice, she did love them dearly. Missing them was the only hard part about living so far away. “I’ll call as soon as I can.”

After another round of “Be carefuls,” she hung up and tucked her cell phone back into her purse. Listening to the whine of the tires on the slick highway and the rumble of raindrops hammering the car, Karen turned her head to stare at Sam.

“Why would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make sure my parents knew that you were in the car with me?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t know I was supposed to be hiding.”

“You’re not,” she grumbled. “It’s just that now they’ll want to know what’s going on and—”

“And you don’t want to tell them any more than you wanted to tell me, is that it?”

She stiffened slightly at the sting in his tone. “Sam, I told you I had reasons for breaking up with you.”

“Yeah, so you said. Unfortunately, you didn’t feel the need to tell me what they were.”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell, yes, it matters!” he nearly shouted, then caught himself and lowered his voice again. “You know something, I really don’t want to do this again.”

“You think I do?”

He shook his head. “I guess not.”

The tension in the car was nearly palpable. Karen’s stomach twisted and her heart ached. Once things had been so good between them. Now…

“So,” Sam said, abruptly changing the subject a few moments later, “how’re your folks?”

Okay, she thought, she could do courteous. She could do polite. After all, they were stuck together for who knew how long; there was no point in being snotty. No point in causing each other more pain than they already had.

“They’re fine,” she said, studying him. In the glow of the dashboard lights, his profile looked hard, as if it were chiseled out of stone. But she remembered all too well how easily his rigid expression could slide into a smile. Suddenly nervous, she reached for another chocolate, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth.

“Your mom still buggin’ you to move back to California?”

Karen smiled. “She’s getting better. It’s only every other phone call now.”

He nodded, and keeping his gaze locked on the rainswept road in front of him, he said, “I thought maybe after we broke up, you might just do it. Move, I mean.”

Oh, those first few days after she’d ended it between them, she’d wanted nothing more than to find a place to hide. But she’d refused to run away again. She’d done that once, running from California to South Carolina, and in the process, she’d run smack into the very thing she’d been running from.

So hiding wasn’t the answer. Her only choice left was to stand her ground and try to forget what she and Sam had had so briefly. Fat chance.

“So how come you didn’t go back home?” he asked.

“Because,” she said, taking a deep breath, “this is home now. I like living in the South. I like small-town life. Besides, I don’t believe in going backward.”

“Me, neither,” he said, shooting her a quick glance.

“Good,” she said, guessing that he meant he had no interest in reviving what they’d once shared. “I mean, we’re stuck together for a while, but this really changes nothing.”

“Agreed.”

“Then we understand each other.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she watched him take a deep breath as if purposely calming himself. “Yeah,” he said finally, “we do. And you can relax. I’m not interested in lining up to have my heart ripped out again.”

Karen sucked in air as if she’d been slapped.

He shot her another look, then swerved the car around a fallen tree branch. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not,” he said quietly. “You did what you had to do. I can appreciate that, even if I don’t understand it.”

Guilt swirled in the pit of her stomach. She knew she’d hurt him. But she’d had to break up with him before he’d become important enough to her that the loss of him would have killed her.

God, that sounded stupid, even to her. Which is why she’d never given him a reason for the breakup. She was sure he’d have fought her. Argued her out of her decision, and then one day, they both might have regretted it.

The miles flew past. Sam kept his gaze on the road and his mind on the problem at hand. Finding shelter. If he’d been by himself, he’d have pulled off and parked by now. All he really needed was a place to pitch his tent and ride out the storm.

But with Karen along, things were different. He needed to find a motel. Something sturdy enough to stand up to the growing winds. The trees on either side of the road bent nearly in half, stretching out their twisting limbs as if trying to grab the car hurtling past them.

He had passed exit after exit, knowing they were still too close to the coast and determined to get far enough inland that Karen would be in no danger. But judging by the strength of the wind, he was running out of time.

And then he saw it. A squat cinder block motel at the side of the highway. A dozen or so cars sat nestled in its parking lot, but the broken green neon sign out front still blinked VA C NCY.

“The Dew Drop Inn?” Karen asked as he took the off-ramp and headed for the place.

He grinned. “Sounds cozy, doesn’t it?”

“Cozy?” she repeated, staring through the rain-swept windshield. “It looks like it’s a hundred years old.”

“Good. Just what we need.”

“Huh?”

He parked in front of the office and turned off the engine. Facing her, he shrugged and said, “If it’s that old, it’s survived a lot of hurricanes. It should make it through this one.”

Sure, Karen thought, but the question was, would she?