Bea (6 page)

“I thought you didn’t like vinegar.”

“Sometimes it’s refreshing. Let’s get back in the truck before somebody comes along and runs over you.”

“Who’s going to come along on these back roads? A jack rabbit?” She hobbled back to the truck, favoring her sore toe.

“You’re limping.” He stopped and looked down at her as if she had committed a major crime.

“It’s just a sore toe. I cut it last night on the bathroom tile.”

“Did you clean the wound? Did you use an antibiotic salve?”

“Good grief. What are you? A doctor?”

A man who has lost too much.
The thought floated across his mind like a ghost. He saw all the people in his life, drifting away from him one by one, dissolving in a mist at the precise moment he reached out to them. His mother and daddy, sitting in a swing under a grape arbor, laughing at the frog house he’d built in the sand-pile nearby, laughing, laughing and suddenly vanishing from his life when he was five years old. Killed, he’d found out later, in a senseless car accident. And the foster families—Sarah and Clem Robbins, Martha and James Lotharp, Robbie Sue and Michael Lansky. The list went on and on. Even the dog he’d had once, Old Rex, dead and bloated from snake bite after only two weeks of playing catch in the pasture at twilight. And finally, Lurlene.

“Russ?” Bea said. He didn’t seem to hear her. She put her hand on his cheek. “Russ? Are you all right?”

He mentally shook himself. Because he was still holding her hand against his face, and because he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea—or any ideas at all—he put on a performance. Bending at the waist like a British fop, he planted an exaggerated kiss in her palm. Then he gave her a broad wink.

“The thought of harm coming to even one hair on your head fills me with woe. Let one drop of blood ooze from your lily white skin, and I tremble with fear.”

“I deserve every bit of your undying devotion.”

He straightened up and grinned at her.

“You do?”

“Certainly I do. I’m paying for it.”

He started laughing, and she joined him.

“What did I tell you?” he said.
“Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.”

“I’m the one who said that.”

“At least you got something right.” Without thinking about his actions or their consequences, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the truck. She allowed that, too.

“Tell me if this is going to be a ravishment. I need to powder my nose.”

“It’s not your nose I’m worried about. It’s your foot.” He plumped her inside the truck and sat down beside her.

“You’re worried?”

“If anything happens to you, I won’t get paid.”

“You’re mercenary right down to the cockles of your cold heart.”

“Guilty. Now take off that boot.”

“I thought ravishments usually started with the blouse.”

She gave him a look that would have melted a suit of armor. It was deliciously sexy and totally uncontrived. He was certain of that. He was equally certain she was unaware of what she had done.

Suddenly all the repartee between them took on new dimensions. He was amazed to realize that on that deserted mountain road in the tight confines of his pickup truck, the idea of making love to her didn’t seem so absurd.

He must be losing his mind.

Without a word, he reached for her leg, and was surprised out of his socks that she didn’t kick him in the face. What other surprises did Bea Adams have in store?

Russ peeled off her boot and put her foot in his lap. It was slim and small, much smaller than he would have expected for such a tall woman.

“Why are you doing this, Russ? I’ve done nothing but sling insults your way.”

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Life’s more interesting when you’re around.”

Chapter Four

With her foot resting in his lap, Bea could no longer dismiss Russ as a lazy rambling man. He was witty, intelligent, complex and extraordinarily appealing.

The appealing part was almost her undoing.

“It’s just a small cut,” she said. “I don’t think it’s fatal.”

“The skin is broken and there’s swelling.”

“It’s only a toe.”

“A toe is part of the body. Don’t you know infection can spread?”

The heat of his hands on her leg was spreading all the way to Virginia.
Oh, help.
If she could get a signal on her iPhone, she’d be sending up distress signals to her friends, right and left. Janet would set her straight, Clemmie would make her feel better and Cat would take her mind off Russ. Of course, Molly and Joanna and Belinda would encourage her to dive right in, to chase this delicious looking man till he caught her.

“Bea? Did you hear what I said?”

Dang,
he was going to see right through her. She swatted his hand off her leg.

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow, when I get home.”

“Bea, if you think this is a ploy to see your legs, you’re wrong.” His face was fierce and his eyes were intensely blue as he leaned closer to her. “I’m not interested in your legs or any other part of your beautiful body. We made a business deal, and this is business. I plan to deliver you to Florence in one piece.” He released her leg and stepped out of the truck. Before he shut the door, he gave her one last order. “Don’t move, and don’t you dare put on your boots.”

He slammed the door shut for emphasis and stalked to his tool box where he kept everything that mattered, his tackle box, his first aid kit, a spare set of keys. Except for that slip about her body being beautiful, he’d maintained the aloofness he’d wanted. Of course, he shouldn’t have carried her, either, but that didn’t count. Nothing counted till he put his hand on her leg and saw how dangerously close he was to running it up that short little skirt of hers.

He jerked the first aid kit out of his toolbox and stalked back to the truck. No way in heaven or hell was he going to rub salve all over her foot. It was too damned dangerous.

When he opened the door, she jumped as if she’d been shot.

“Here.” He thrust the antibiotic and a box of Band-Aids at her. “Apply the salve generously, then cover it.”

She made quick work of the chore. He wanted not to notice, but he couldn’t help himself. He had always loved a woman’s bare feet. Bea had a tiny blue vein in the arch of her foot that made her look fragile and vulnerable. He focused on that small patch of blue.

Doggone the luck, she turned and caught him looking.

“All set?” His voice betrayed nothing.

“Yes.”

“Then I think we can get going. The truck should be cool by now.” He turned the key, and the truck came to life. With the sky darkening and Bea sitting in silence with her bare feet tucked under her, they continued down the mountain.

The radio had started playing as soon as Russ had turned the key. He turned it off.

“Thank you.” Bea gave him a small smile.

“You’re welcome.”

The first drop of rain spattered against the windshield. Bea watched it with a sort of detachment. She was aware of only two things: the soothing feel of the salve on her toe and the tremendous sexual magnetism of the man sitting beside her.

“It’s raining,” she commented, still not really paying much attention to the weather.

“The sky is dark.”

“Hmm.”

They drove in silence. The rain fell in a fine sprinkle. Then without warning, the sky opened and rain beat so hard against the windshield, Russ could barely see.

Bea leaned forward, hugging herself and trying to see through the downpour.
Lord, don’t let it thunder,
she said to herself.
Don’t let lightning streak the sky.
She was scared to death of thunderstorms. Had been since she was born, she guessed. It was a foolish weakness that she wasn’t proud of, and she certainly didn’t want to display any more weaknesses before Russ Hammond.

Russ braked the truck, catching Bea’s attention.

“My clothes!” Bea said suddenly, looking out the back window. Her suitcase was only a shadow seen darkly through the curtain of rain.

“What?” Russ leaned forward, straining to see.

“My clothes will be soaked. You have to stop.”

“They’re already wet.”

“You don’t know that. I have a good, tight suitcase.”

“This is a good, hard rain. You don’t need to be out in it.”

“I want you to stop this truck.”

“You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. You’ll get soaked.”

“It’s my body.”

He glanced at her. In the gray light, her face was set in the determined lines he’d come to know so well. He kept going.

“It’s also my money.”

His jaw tightened. Without another word, he pulled over to the side of the road. She jerked open her door and swung her legs down. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back into the truck. Then he leaned over her and slammed the door shut.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“I don’t have any remedies for pneumonia in my duffle bag.” He took his handkerchief out of his pants pocket and wiped the water off her legs. A muscle twitched in the side of his jaw. “If you want to get soaked and catch your death of cold, you can wait until you get home to do it.”

She sat with her back rigid as he bent over her and dried her legs all the way down to her ankles. She held her breath as he lifted her feet, one by one, and wiped every drop of moisture from them.

The windows were fogged from their breathing. With the dark sky and the steamy windows, she felt as if she were in a cocoon. The feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Russ straightened and tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.

“Stay here. Don’t move.”

He pulled his jacket collar up and stepped into the rain. Within seconds he was back. Plopping the wet suitcase onto the seat, he climbed in.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t reply. Taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, he wiped his face. The damp cloth didn’t begin to soak up all the rain he’d collected on his errand of gallantry.

Bea couldn’t sit there and watch it any longer.

“Here. Let me do that.” She opened her purse and took out a lace-edged linen handkerchief.”

She leaned toward him, but the suitcase was in the way. In order to balance, she had to put one hand on his shoulder.

He sat very still as she lifted the tiny material to his face. The sweet scent of flowers wafted under his nose.

“That little piece of material is hardly big enough for a flea.” His voice was gruff. It had been a long, long time since anybody had cared enough about him to wipe his face.

“If you have any fleas in this beard, you’d better tell me now. I can’t abide fleas.”

Her quip lightened the mood. They laughed together.

“Then you’d better let me do that. I haven’t looked lately.”

He took the handkerchief and finished mopping his face.

She settled back into her seat, glad the suitcase was between them. “Who says there are no good Samaritans anymore? You’re a good Samaritan, Russ Hammond.”

“Don’t tell. My reputation would be ruined.” Absently he stuffed her little handkerchief into his pocket. “It looks like the rain is letting up some.”

“Can you see well enough to drive?”

“Yes. As long as I watch the speed.”

He pulled back onto the mountain road, and they crept along. Their respite lasted twenty minutes, and then the rain began to slash the truck viciously. Russ eased around the mountain curves, peering hard into the rain, trying to spot the potholes in the road in time to avoid a teeth-jarring encounter.

Suddenly Bea caught his arm. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

There was a rumbling sound coming up from the ground, as if the earth were growling its discontent.

“I hear it.” Automatically he slowed the truck.

“What is it?”

“It sounds like distant traffic.”

The sound became louder. Suddenly Russ knew what it was. Rock slide. It sometimes happened on mountain roads, especially during torrential rains. Judging by the sounds, rocks were tumbling some distance behind them and almost immediately ahead of them. They were trapped.

His jaw tightened and he leaned over the wheel, searching desperately for a place to pull over. Bea saw the change in him, felt the sudden tension.

“Russ?”

He didn’t answer her. A muscle twitched in his jaw and his knuckles turned white. He was tired of losing people. Even if Bea was not connected to him in any important way, he’d be damned if he’d let anything happen to her.

“What’s wrong, Russ?” Bea gripped his arm.

“Hang on, Bea.”

There were no good places to pull off the road. No wide shoulders and safe havens presented themselves. Russ took the only way out. Shifting gears, he plunged off the road and started up a small, rocky incline. The old truck swayed, its tires spinning and squealing, seeking purchase on the slick ground.