Читать книгу The Bachelor's Dare - Shirley Jump - Страница 11

Claire clutched her suitcase and watched Mark climb the first step of the RV. She hated him and envied him and wanted to throw things at him, but truth was, she had arrived here one person too late. She’d blown her chance because she’d stayed on the phone too long. A few too many minutes of conversation with the nurse. And now she was left holding a suitcase, with no way to get to the coast. To her new life. To the first person she could call family in a long time.

Buy a plane ticket, Mark had said. If only it were that simple. She’d made a promise, and now, damn it all and damn it again, she was going to have to break it. And even worse, do so over the phone, with one end of the connection on a cell phone in Mercy and the other end in a room in California smelling of antiseptic.

Despair settled over her, heavy and thick. She’d come so far, risked so much, and now she was going to lose it all. Had she really thought she could pull this off? Change her life with a risky move like this?

She dropped the suitcase to the floor, sat down on top and buried her face in her hands. She would not cry. She would not—

“I can’t do it! It’s so small! I can’t—” One of the makeup-counter salesgirls came barreling off the RV, nearly knocking Mark over in her rush to flee. “It’s like a coffin in there!” She stopped in the courtyard, took in several deep gulps of air, then ran out of the mall.

“One down,” Nancy said. “Eighteen to go and we’ll have a winner.”

“No, wait!” Claire scrambled to her feet, grabbed her suitcase, and ran over to Nancy. “The last person hasn’t gotten on yet. Technically, the competition hasn’t started. And now, you only have nineteen. The rules said twenty.”

Nancy’s mouth turned in and she narrowed her gaze. “I can count. We had twenty, now we have nineteen.”

“The rules said—”

“The lady’s right.” Mark interrupted, still standing on the step. He flashed Nancy a winning smile. “I can see you’re a nice person, someone…understanding. She just wants a chance.” He indicated Claire. “You seem the kind who would give her one.” He leaned closer to Nancy. “Between you and me, I don’t think she’ll last more than a few hours anyway. Then you’ll be back to nineteen again, all before the mall opens. Besides,” he added on a whisper, “she might sue. It’s a sticky situation, considering I haven’t gotten on yet.”

Why would Mark help her? Especially after he’d turned her down earlier? Claire didn’t bother to try to understand his motives, not when her chance at boarding the RV was at stake.

The lawsuit implication seemed to sway Nancy. “Okay, get on. But remember,” she cautioned before Claire took a step, “I’m being very nice in giving you this chance.”

“Nancy, you’re all heart.” Mark flashed his best smile. It worked its usual magic, a trick Claire had seen a thousand times in the years she’d known Mark. He smiled and grown women swooned. Even hard-nosed Nancy melted—she returned his smile with a little giggle.

“Thank you.” Claire shook Nancy’s hand but the other woman barely noticed. Her gaze was entirely on Mark, until she was interrupted by a question from Don Nash and turned away with clear reluctance. “Let’s get in there, Mark.”

“Ladies first,” he said, gesturing before him.

Claire shook her head. “I know how you are. You just want to watch my butt. Get in there and I’ll watch yours instead.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you liked me. Or my rear, Claire.” Mark wasted a smile on her. Claire felt a flutter in her stomach that surely had to come from the three donuts she’d gobbled on her way out the door. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a pencil. “Here.” He handed it to her.

“What’s this for?”

“In case you want to capture the view.” Then he climbed the steps and entered the RV. Claire sighted her target and launched. Perfect aim. The pencil beaned his left temple.

“Hey!” Mark said.

Claire grinned. “I told you I don’t play fair.”

He leaned toward her. “Makes it all that much more interesting, doesn’t it?” There were a hundred other implications in his voice. She chose to ignore them all.

Once inside, Claire understood why the claustrophobic girl had run screaming from the motor home. Twenty people, with luggage, did not fit easily in a forty-five-foot trailer, no matter how nicely decorated the interior. Already, the air was stifling, filled with the odor of humans and the sickly-sweet stench of perfume. If Claire hadn’t had so much at stake herself, she would have left, too. The crowd was overwhelming.

Nancy entered the RV and grimaced. “Now that we’re all here, let’s start the competition.” She flicked a switch at the front of the vehicle and blessed cool air began to pump through the vents. “First, a few rules. The newspaper will be delivered daily and you can get local channels on the TVs, so you’ll stay current. There’s a full kitchen, with a stocked refrigerator and food cabinet. I’ll be bringing by fresh groceries, as often as they’re needed with a crowd this big. Just give me a list and I’ll do my best. A couple of area restaurants have graciously agreed to donate dinners for the next few nights. In exchange for a mention in the media coverage, of course.”

“Media coverage?” someone asked from the back.

“Oh yeah, didn’t I tell you? A crew from Ten-Spot News in Lawford will be out later today to film you. Sort of “The Real World/Survivor” in an RV. It was part of what convinced Deluxe to donate the RV. Anyway, Ten-Spot will be poking their heads in here from time to time. They’re on their way over right now. There was an accident on the interstate and they got delayed. So they missed the big boarding.” Nancy tapped a finger against her lips. “Maybe we could re-stage that, for the cameras.” She shook her head. “Anyway, back to the rules. You’ll all be in here with each other for a while, so be nice. No profanity, no lewd gestures,” she shot a glance at Mark that seemed to say she wouldn’t mind a lewd gesture from him later, “and no fighting. Sleeping will be a first-come, first-served kind of thing. There’s a queen bed in back, a double in the fold-out couch, another double on top of the cab and a recliner. The captain’s chairs up front are pretty comfortable, too. And then there’s the floor.” She tapped her foot against it. “Carpeted at least.”

Nancy went on to say that if they left the RV, they’d be disqualified. Stepping outside the vehicle for any reason was considered quitting. The competition would go on as long as there was more than one person inside. “Last to go takes the RV home,” she said, sweeping her hand around the room like Vanna White. “That’s it. Any questions?”

“How many hours do you think this will take?” Adele asked.

Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know. In the contest at Mall of America, there were two guys who lasted three months.”

A gasp went up from the crowd. Adele glanced at her watch. “I have to be at work by noon or use up a vacation day.”

Nancy gave her an indulgent smile, as if Adele were slow-witted. “I think you’ll be here past noon.”

Adele glanced around the crowded room, then sat on one of the kitchenette chairs. “I’ll have to call my boss.”

“There’s no phone in the RV. If you have a cell phone, you can use that. Otherwise, the only contact with the outside world will be through me.” She smiled graciously at them all. “I’d be glad to let your family know how you’re doing, or they could come by and visit while they shop, and talk to you through the window. Be sure to tell them that Joe’s Camping Store is having a big sale this week on camping gear, to go along with our promotion.” When no one else asked a question, Nancy gave them a little wave, wished them luck and got off the RV.

Claire saw clear relief in Nancy’s face when she took in a deep breath of canned mall air. When the door shut, Claire felt a twinge of panic. Nineteen other people. One RV. For days on end. What had she just gotten herself into? And what if it didn’t work out?

Mark’s gaze caught hers. “You okay?”

She drew herself up and took a breath. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated with a smile that said he knew she was lying.

“I think everyone should stow their luggage in the bedroom,” Millie, the knitting grandma, said. “Lester, take our things back there.”

“Who made you boss?” said Roger, who’d just gotten married on Friday. He was only twenty-one, too young to be married, Claire thought. She’d cut his hair last week. Flat top, shaved sides, à la the marines. She couldn’t believe he’d talked his new wife, Jessica, into spending their honeymoon on the RV. She supposed it was better than spending the weekend at Jessica’s mom’s house, probably the only other option they could afford. Not exactly an auspicious beginning for married life, but Claire understood being blind to everything but love. Blind to a lack of money, blind to a lack of a job. Blind as a stupid bat, flying face-first into a wall of denial.

Millie pursed her lips. “Do you have a better idea, son?”

“Well, no.” Roger looked flustered by her challenge. “I think we should decide things by committee, though.”

Millie let out a sigh. “There is very little room in here, in case you didn’t notice. If we stow our bags in the bedroom, we have a private place to change our clothes.”

“Okay,” Roger said. For the next few minutes, there was nothing but the sounds of grunts and “excuse me’s” as each of them made their way to the bedroom and deposited their luggage.

“Well,” Millie said when they were done. “Anyone up for a game of canasta?”

The silence that greeted her made it clear how the crowd felt about card games. Somebody started a pot of coffee in the tiny kitchen. One of the men—Danny, the one who didn’t seem to have a job, Claire remembered—flopped into the driver’s seat, grabbed the satellite remote and turned on the TV. Typical.

“Awesome! I can watch every game in the country.” Danny immediately put the remote to use. A half second on each station until he knew exactly where ESPN and Fox Sports were located. Then he settled back in the chair and propped his feet on the dash to watch football.

“Glad you got on the bus to nowhere now?” Mark asked, coming up beside her in the corner she’d ducked into to stay out of the crush of people.

Lord, he was awfully close. Claire stiffened, trying to take up less space. “Of course.”

“Seems like it will be close quarters for a while. Think you can stand that?”

“Can you?”

“Oh yeah.” He leaned toward her. She could feel his breath tickling along her collarbone. “I like being close.”

She pulled herself away, as far as she could, which was about three inches. It was nowhere near enough distance. “Seems you’re not the only one.” She gestured toward Roger and Jessica.

The newlyweds had commandeered the sofa and stretched out along the length of it. They were half en-twined with each other and had already started on the honeymoon. Loud, sloppy sounds of kissing came from their corner.

“That’s not making love,” Mark said with disdain. “That’s wrestling.”

Laughter burst from Claire. The moment of détente felt good, the laughter a much-needed break in the tension she’d been feeling ever since she threw out her old life, sure the new one was just a matter of waiting out the rest of the competitors. But now she didn’t feel so confident about her decision.

Millie hurried over to the couch and rapped the surface with her knitting needle. Roger and Jessica broke apart and sat up. “There’ll be none of that,” Millie said, wagging her finger at them. “It’s disgusting.”

“Come on, grandma. We just got married yesterday.” Roger held up Jessica’s left hand as proof.

“Then get a room at the Motel 6. This is not the place for…for that.”

“We’re taking this RV on our honeymoon,” Roger said.

“When you win it, that’s when your honeymoon begins. Until then, I think you should sleep up front and your girl should sleep in the back, on the floor. Lester and I will have the bed and we can keep an eye on her.”

“Hey,” piped up Danny. “Who says you get the big bed?”

“Lester and I are the oldest,” she said, as if that settled it.

“No you aren’t, Millie,” called one of the other elderly people. “My Gracie here has six months on you.” That started another spirited disagreement about birth dates, which led into a game of one-upmanship about whose hip was worse and who deserved the bed more, based on their medical files.

Mark squeezed into the center of the room. “I have a fair way of deciding who gets the beds,” he shouted over the din.

Claire glanced up in surprise. Since when did Mark get involved in anything besides his own life? He’d never been the kind of guy to step into the middle of a mess. In high school, he’d always been content to ride the popularity wave. Now he was helping her, negotiating a sleeping peace treaty and generally acting like a nice guy—not like the Mark she remembered. Since he’d returned from California, something had changed. For good? Claire doubted it. Men like Mark didn’t make permanent personality changes.

Everyone quieted down and looked at Mark. He grabbed the deck of cards on the kitchen table. Millie opened her mouth to protest. “I only need them for a minute,” Mark said. He shuffled the deck and then held it aloft. “There’s sleeping for six in the beds, then two captain’s chairs and the recliner here in the living room. That makes nine comfortable places to sleep. Everyone takes a card. Highest cards get first pick. Tomorrow night, we deal again, so you always have a shot at a bed.”

There were a few grumbles, but no one disagreed. Mark circled the RV, letting each person take a card. He smiled when he got to Claire. “Maybe you’ll get a joker.”

“Already had one of those, thank you.” She took the first card from the deck. A jack of clubs. She stood a good chance at a comfortable place to sleep. After the sleepless night she’d had, it was a welcome thought.

“I got an ace,” Millie crowed when Mark got to her. “Lester, what’d you get?”

He flashed a two of diamonds. Millie’s face fell. “I can’t sleep with another man. It would be—”

“There’s always the chairs,” Mark said as he took his own card from the deck. He looked at it, put it in his back pocket, then laid the rest of the deck back on the table. “Now, let’s divvy up the beds.”

Millie immediately claimed a captain’s chair, bemoaning that she would have to sleep without Lester. Adele Williams had a king of hearts, but gave it back. “It’s after eleven. I can’t lose my job over this thing, not if I don’t know for sure I’ll win. I better get to work.” She grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

Eighteen people left for Claire to beat now. The loss of one person did nothing to open up space and air in the RV, but it was a beginning. Maybe after a night of sleeping on the floor, others would leave, too. The doctor had already been paged twice and looked anxious. He’d clearly thought the competition would be easy and quick. The three stay-at-home moms had shared a cell phone to call home and check on their kids. One looked ready to leave. Her little Jimmy had fallen off the swing set and scraped his knee. Claire could hear her debating whether to stay.

“Claire, what have you got?” Mark’s voice drew her back to the card.

“A jack.”

“You get next pick. There’s space with Milo, the security guard, on the queen bed in back. Or a space beside Tawny, the other makeup girl, on the sofa bed. Or…” he reached into his back pocket and withdrew a queen. “Or a space beside me in the double bed over the cab.”

She wondered if Mark had cheated, purposely taking a higher card than her own so he could end up in bed with her. Nah. That was a crazy thought. She and Mark barely tolerated each other. They only bordered on being friends because they’d grown up together, which meant they had skinned knees and mud pies in common, not desire. They might joke about an attraction, but there was nothing between them to worry about.

Still, she wasn’t going to tinker with that by sharing a bed with him. She was through making stupid mistakes because a sexy smile overrode her better sense. Claire crossed the room and handed her jack to Lester.

“Thank you, missy.” He clutched the card in his gnarled, wrinkled hand. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Lester, choose the chair beside me,” Millie cried.

He ignored his wife. “I think I’ll take some space in that bed right there.” Lester pointed to the sofa bed.

“I am not sleeping with an old man!” Tawny got to her feet.

Millie bustled over and switched her card with the girl’s, before she could protest. “Then you sleep up front, dear, in the chair, and I’ll keep my Lester company.”

Lester let out a heavy sigh.

By the time the rest of the beds had been accounted for, Claire realized Mark hadn’t used his queen after all. He’d just tucked it back into the deck and moved on to the next person. She didn’t ponder his reasoning. Better to leave it alone.

After lunch, Claire settled into the recliner, cracked open her journal and began to write.

Only fifteen people left. The doctor’s gone, and so is one of the elderly couples, who opted to drive to Florida. The third mom left, to give little Jimmy a dose of TLC. If this keeps up, I’ll win in no time. Danny, though, is glued to the chair and the TV. Millie, Lester, Art and Gracie are playing the world’s longest card game. Tawny started a miniriot when she polished her nails and the fumes became toxic. The security guard, Milo, is snoring on the couch. Renee and John are reading, the others are talking quietly. Roger and Jessica are on the other end of the couch, looking quite unhappy for newlyweds. And Mark…

Claire stopped writing and closed the book. Mark… Well, he wasn’t acting like the Mark she knew. He’d been a peacemaker, stepping in when tempers started to flare, proposing ideas to settle everything from bathroom time to washing dishes. He was diplomatic and charming enough that everyone listened. If she hadn’t known him and his reputation for breaking hearts already, Claire would have probably found that…attractive. Either way, a relationship didn’t figure into her future, so she dropped the thought of Mark like a hot coal.

It was after ten now in California. Claire dug her cell phone out of her suitcase and headed into the only private place within the RV—the bathroom. The reception was terrible, even with her antenna up, so she climbed inside the corner shower and stretched it toward the skylight. Marginally better.

The call took several seconds to connect. Finally, a ring. Then another. By the fourth ring, Claire was worried. Finally, on the fifth, a gravelly voice picked up. “Hello?”

“Dad? You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just wrestling with the nurse.”

Claire laughed. “Who won?”

“I think I did, but she’s already challenged me to a re-match.” He paused to cough. The racking sounds were surely painful for him, but they also stabbed at Claire’s chest, too. She wished to God she had a better plan. “Sorry, honey.”

“You taking care of yourself?”

“As best I can.” Another series of coughs hit him, this one blessedly shorter. “I wish I could see you.”

Claire leaned her head against the cool tile wall of the shower. “Me, too, Dad.”

David Sawyer was still just a voice to her. She had yet to hug her father, see how tall he was compared to her, see if his pinky finger had that same odd crook hers did. She’d only found her father four months ago, and already the demon called cancer was stealing him away.

He started coughing again and one of his visiting nurses, Jeannie, took the phone. “Hi, Claire.” Over the last few weeks, these women, who maintained the physical link Claire didn’t have, had become close friends, a tangible rope between herself and the father she was still getting to know.

“How is he?”

She heard Jeannie cup her hand over the phone. “As well as can be expected. The doctor said…” she hesitated, clearly wishing she could deliver this news in person, in one of those quiet rooms where relatives could grieve in privacy. “The surgery didn’t quite get it all. He’ll be starting chemotherapy in two weeks, as soon as he’s recovered from the surgery. He can’t go anywhere until it’s done, but he should be feeling better soon.”

The chemo, Claire knew, was no guarantee of anything. From the way her father sounded, it might not be the final cure he needed. “I’ll be there soon.”

If she didn’t have possession of the RV by the time her father started chemo, she’d just grab a plane and figure out the rest of her life later. Her move, her new start—all of it would have to wait.

“They got most of it with the surgery and radiation, you know. It’s still at stage two. With chemo—”

Claire’s sigh finished the sentence. “I know.”

“We’re taking good care of him,” Jeannie said. “He’s not in a hospital, he’s home. There’s a lot of good news.”

“I know. I appreciate all you’re doing.” In the background, Claire heard her father’s coughs abate.

Weaker now, he came back on the phone. “Guess that’s my cue to hang up. Talking wears me out.”

Claire’s hand gripped the phone tighter, as if she could hold him through the wireless connection. God, how she wanted to be there, to help him through this. “I know, Dad. Just take care of yourself. I’ll be there soon.”

“Are we…” he paused between words, searching for breath, “still going to…take that…vacation?”

Claire bit her lip. “Absolutely, Dad.” She closed her eyes and hung on to the phone long after they’d said goodbye. A tear slipped down her face. Then another, until the stress and worry released itself in a sob. She who never cried, who could wither a cocky man with a glance, who had been the last to leave the beauty shop when the tornado five years ago came roaring through—she who had never cried as much in her life as she had in the last four months.

“Claire? You okay?” Mark had come into the bathroom and she hadn’t even noticed. She must have forgotten to lock the door. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer, and I heard you—”

She swiped away her tears and turned to face him, all Claire again. Well, herself taken down a notch. No matter how hard she tried lately, the spirited person she normally was had taken a back seat to someone a little more subdued, worried and unsure of her decisions.

“I’m fine. Just checking out the view from the skylight.” She glanced up and saw plain, white mall ceiling. Twin recessed lights glared back at her. “Yep. It’s a great view.”

“You look upset. Is something wrong?”

“Nope. Not a thing.” She tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and stepped out of the shower.

He stopped her before she passed him. A zing of heat went up her arm when he touched her. Must be her frazzled nerves. “Wait, don’t go out there yet.”

“Why not?”

“The TV crew is here. As soon as they showed up, three other people quit. Those two other moms took off—good thing, too, because their cell phone has been ringing nonstop with babysitters and husbands at work calling—then Milo left, saying he couldn’t get a decent nap with all the commotion. So now we’re down to twelve.”

Eleven people to go before she had the RV. Some of them, like Millie, looked like they had every intention of spending weeks here. Claire Richards did not have weeks. She needed to win and get on the road to California, before she chickened out and ended up stuck at Flo’s for the rest of her life. She needed this change, needed to embark on her own life, not the one she’d been suckered into by a guy who talked a good game.

And she needed to see her father, to spend time with him one-on-one and begin to recapture the years they’d lost. The doubts returned again to plague her mind. Could she make a new start? Did she really have it in her to chuck it all for something essentially unknown?

Either way, without the RV, making all of that happen would be near impossible. There weren’t many options.

“You might want to put on your game face before you go out there,” Mark was saying. “The reporter wants to interview everyone, find out why they’re here, what their strategy is.”

For the briefest second, she was tempted to lean against Mark, pour her troubles into his hands. To rely on someone else for once. Claire had been on her own for so long. The burden of being strong was suddenly too heavy.

He was so close. Inches from her.

Granted, it wasn’t his fault. This wasn’t exactly the bathroom at the Taj Mahal. It was only slightly bigger than the bathroom in the two-bedroom ranch where she’d grown up. But never in that bathroom, or in any other, had she been more aware of the rise and fall of a man’s chest. She shook herself back to reality. This was Mark.

“…and I’ll warn you, they’re looking for dirt,” he said. “Ups the ratings, you know.”

Claire gestured toward the shower. “I just came from there. No dirt on me.” She tried to work up a laugh, but it fell flat.

Something dark and fierce simmered in his gaze, but his voice was all light and teasing, the same Mark she’d known all her life. “Doesn’t look like you got all the important parts,” he said. He ran a finger over the curve of her shoulder and she felt the heat ratchet up ten degrees. She’d never reacted like that to Mark before. Then again, the last time they’d “played” together, they’d both been nine. “You really should get naked to take a shower properly, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.” She needed some air. It wasn’t his finger teasing along the edge of her tank that had her forgetting her name and where she was and what day it was. “Well, I better get back out there.” But she didn’t move.

Mark’s face, so familiar, yet so different now that he had the angular lines and dusting of stubble of a grown man, was a breath away. “Any time you need someone to scrub your back or want to scrub mine,” he smiled and some of the heat left his gaze as he kidded with her, “I have this spot right here…” he pointed to a place on his back, “that I can’t reach by myself. If you’d care to help, the shower looks big enough for two.”

Whoa. This was going into territory where Claire refused to journey. This was Mark, she reminded herself again. She knew, from all the years she’d lived around the corner from him, that he had as much interest in monogamy as a goldfish. She was twenty-eight and no longer interested in serial dating. Besides, she wasn’t Mark’s type—she wasn’t young or buxom.

If he was making a pass at her, he had one of only two reasons in mind. He was hard up, or he was using this as some kind of strategy to win the RV. He’d weave his spell and convince her to get off. She wasn’t giving up her dream to some guy with a soft touch and a good smile. She’d done that once before, for Travis. And had ended up stuck with a lease and a pile of bills while he pursued his dreams. Never again. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

She started to brush past him. “Claire—”

Claire wheeled around. “I know you, Mark. I know your pattern. A night in your bed, maybe three. The sex would be oh-so-good.” She ran a finger up his chest, her mouth exaggerating the O’s in her words. “We’d be peeling ourselves off the ceiling after we were done. And then, when you realized I actually had a brain above my breasts, you’d walk away. No,” she put a finger to her chin. “You’d run. And I’d have wasted a few days of my life with a guy who can’t see past my lingerie. I’ve been there, done that and have no intentions of being that stupid again, with you or any other man. So let me put you out of your misery and save us all grief down the road.” She pulled the tank to the right, exposing the thin strap of her bra. “This set’s blue, fringed with lace. The one I’ll wear tomorrow is black. Then maybe I’ll wear the red, or the indigo. Happy?” She slipped the shirt back. “Now, let’s get back to the competition.”

She stalked out of the bathroom, leaving Mark Dole with his jaw on the floor.