Drive Me Crazy (7 page)

“Thanks for the loan.” Jaime stepped to Carla and wrapped the young woman in a hug. “And the place to stay. And for listening.”

Carla pulled back, holding her friend at arm’s length. “I know how you can thank me.”

Jaime shook her head and whispered, “Never going to happen.” Both women laughed, hugging again. “Do you want to come with us for bagels?”

“Can’t. I have a date.” They stepped apart.

“You do? You didn’t say anything.”

“Nothing to tell yet. But if you call me later we can compare notes.” Carla nudged Jaime’s shoulder.

“Oh, aren’t you funny.” Jaime lifted her now-bulging bag to her shoulder and turned to Xavier. “Ready?”

He grabbed his own bag and followed her to the door. “How can I talk you into Route 66?”

The sun glinted down on Lake Michigan, making the surface shine like diamonds. Wrapped in the warm caress of summer, Jaime strolled along the path with Xavier, seeing the lake as if for the first time. It had always been something she drove past with Carla on the way somewhere. Now it was an entity worth stopping to view.

“Thank you,” he said, taking her arm and turning her towards him.

“For what?” Goodness, he was handsome. Usually the way a man looked grew on her slowly, and though her attraction for Xavier hit full force, it continued to multiply exponentially. Soon she wouldn’t be able to resist his suggestions. And she was becoming okay with that.

“The lobby of the Rookery building.”

“Ah, yes, my surprise detour to honor your Frank Lloyd Wright obsession. It was on the way to Wisconsin. Thought I’d show you how that worked. You know, finding things on the way instead of going out of our way to pay homage to the man. Are you sure you’re not an architect?”

“Positive. I couldn’t design my way out of a paper bag.” He turned to face the lake once more, a cool, gentle breeze easing the rising temperature.

“I don’t know about that. You made short work of the bag of
rugelach
.” She’d only eaten two of the cinnamon cookies.

He shrugged. “It was a small bag and I haven’t had them in a couple years.”

“Why not?” She nudged his shoulder with her own, grateful the awkwardness was past them.

“Are you ready to hit the road?” He turned and walked down the path back to where they’d parked the car.

Jaime blinked at his abrupt retreat. He did that every time she asked him anything the least bit personal. She still didn’t know what he did for a living. Beyond his living in France and being Trent’s best friend thanks to them each living in each other’s homes as exchange students, she knew nothing.

She kept her feet planted, watching boats bob in the distance. He was the one in a hurry to get to Wisconsin. She’d already planned on losing the whole day.

In the distance, she found an area of the vast lake free of anything and stared at the line where the water met the horizon until it blurred.

The sight calmed her senses, transporting her back to the beaches of Mexico where she and her cousins would sit and stare at the ocean. Safe and happy and eager for a world full of possibility. When had she started trying to control that?

“Aren’t you coming?” Xavier played with the digital camera he was using to document his trip, the sun glinting off his short hair.

“Not yet.” Jaime took a deep breath, working up her confidence. “All I know about you is your obsession with haunted houses and architecture, your disdain for bad coffee and your need for an interpreter to deal with a silk business. That’s it.”

He grinned and snapped a picture. “That’s all you need to know.”

“I want to know more. It might keep me from going crazy the next time you refuse to head west.”

“I think you’ve crossed that line already.” His smile should come with a warning, but she couldn’t let it distract her.

“That’s because I don’t know your reality, and you know mine. I’m not asking for your secrets, just the basics. What is it you do?”

“Why? Does it matter?”

She shook her head. “It’s strange, knowing so little about you.”

“But you don’t want to know about me.” He stalked towards her, his hooded gaze darkening with every step until he stood far too close for comfort. “You just want to get home, right?”

The challenge in his voice and gaze made her blink. She’d placed her bet and he’d called it.

But was he bluffing?

“If I don’t ask you anything about yourself, we can head straight back to Oregon? No more side trips to ponder architecture?”

“We have three weeks until the wedding. I can get you home and still have time to look around a country you are content to ignore.”

What she was content to ignore was his jab. The sooner she was free of the temptation he offered, the better they’d both be. She’d made such a mess of her last relationship and she knew rebounding now would only make her feel worse in the end.

Jaime plastered on her best smile and squared her shoulders. “Let’s get on the road then. With your new and improved attitude I think we can make it at least to Nebraska today. Then we can either stop for the night or change drivers and push on to Wyoming.”

Chapter Six

“We have to eat.” Xavier left the top down on the convertible as he unfolded himself from the seat.

“Yes, but do we need to eat in 1850?” Jaime studied the signs in the parking lot as she adjusted her headband, trying to smooth the wayward strands as best she could without being too obvious about it. The wind had done a number on her hair, but the whir of the highway had kept Xavier from talking and trying to get out of his promise to drive straight home.

“You can’t whine. This is on the way. The highway cuts the Living History Farm in half.” With an irritated shake of his head, he slung his camera bag over his shoulder and then walked towards the Welcome Center without her.

Great. Just great. Not only did he pull them off the road and into a time warp, but he was still in a snit about something he’d agreed to. Truly, the sooner they got home and were out of one another’s company, the better.

Even in her white flip-flops and having to navigate her way through the throng of families crossing the gravel lot towards the entrance, she caught up with him just as he paid for their admission. He handed her a map as if he expected her to be right by his side.

“How long can we stay before you start to complain?” he teased, unfolding his map as he walked towards an authentic prairie gothic church. “Wait, you already complained.”

“Oh, you are a laugh riot.” She paused at the church, catching his arm as they came upon the scene. A couple in period dress stood before a minister and a handful of others who also looked like they’d just stepped out of a history book. “I think it’s a wedding,” she whispered.

“Tin wedding,” he whispered back, pointing to a few lines on the back of the map. “They hold them twice a day to show how couples celebrated their tenth anniversary.”

“How romantic is that?” Her heart gave a little squeeze and she brought her hand to her chest.

The minister finished speaking and the people surrounding the couple applauded. After a chaste kiss, they were given tin cups and trinkets.

“I don’t know. Allison seems to be in love with her silver service. I don’t know that tin would cut it with her.”

Jaime shook her head, not wanting to admit he was right. Her sister had put as much effort into her bridal registry as she had the seating chart for the reception. Jaime wondered where Xavier would be sitting, and quickly tossed the thought away. It didn’t matter.

“They have fresh ice cream in 1850, but we have to head to 1900 to see the baked goods.” He looked up from the map, smiling like a kid on the first day of summer vacation.

She looked at him incredulously, wondering if he realized the method in his madness. It might shock him to know he wasn’t as free-spirited and spontaneous as he assumed. She’d begun to notice he was as efficient as possible in his amusements. They weren’t even halfway to Oregon and they’d taken in more activities than she would have dared plan into an entire trip.

“Okay. By your expression I can see we’re only going as far back as the farmhouse. The pioneer log home is out.”

With a laugh, Jaime shook her head. “I’ll make you a deal.”

He groaned. “I don’t make out well on your deals.”

She tried to keep her smile from looking too self-satisfied. “We’ll stay as long as you want and go as far back in time as you desire if, and here’s the catch, I can drive through the night.”

His green eyes widened. “You want to drive through Nebraska in the dark? You don’t want to see any of it?”

“Seen it, smelled it, and trust me when I say it looks just like Iowa and Wyoming. You won’t miss a thing except the smell of cow mixed with summer heat.” She pulled a face to punctuate her point.

“You’ll do everything without complaining?”

She nodded, afraid of what everything entailed, but still giddy at her bargain.

“Have you ever milked a cow?” Xavier didn’t wait for her answer, just marched off the church lawn and into 1870.

Women were not meant to be understood. Especially American women. When Jaime had insisted on changing into her pajamas before they got back on the road, he’d swallowed a groan at the idea of having to pretend he wasn’t turned on by her tank top and panties while she drove his stick shift into the semi-darkness. While she changed, he put the top up on the car and then looked through the list in the journal. It felt funny, finishing a to-do list someone else wrote for you, but he was glad to be crossing so much of it off.

Standing on the edge of Lake Michigan, he’d worried that having Jaime with him might thwart his plan. Women manipulated situations based on who he was, on what he could do for them. Jaime hadn’t seemed to know what he did, but Carla was a fashion buyer, one with Marie-Chloe pieces in her closet. It was entirely possible she’d made the connection and passed the information on.

When Jaime had pushed for details of his life, he’d been rocketed back to Europe, to women who knew the score and wanted to play the game. He was so tired of the game.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the passenger seat. He needed a break from always looking for ulterior motives. The constant guard he had to keep up. For just a moment, he didn’t want to think about what everyone wanted from him, or that no one bothered to see him through the veil of money, prestige and power.

When Jaime came back to the car, he opened his eyes to find she was wearing more clothes than he’d ever seen on her. Lounge pants patterned with pink hearts, a long-sleeved red tee and socks so thick they looked like sweaters for her feet.

Xavier slid lower in the passenger seat, not saying a word as they hit the road. He watched Jaime drive from the corner of his eye. Maybe all the clothes on the women at the living history museum had had a negative impact on her. He loved that she was usually bare from the top of her head to the high rounded mounds of her breasts. Breasts that were completely camouflaged in this get-up.

Not that he should care. She said she wanted to get to know him, which always got in the way of a good time. He wanted to keep things light and easy, and explaining to anyone why he was driving across the country would tread into territory that was heavy, dark and would lead to more of the same.

That had been his life for the last year, and he needed to leave it behind. Make some new memories, bright shining moments of summer to hold him through the rest of the year while he battled the storms raging between his father and sister.

He shifted in the seat, knowing if he kept his mind in Paris, he’d never fall asleep. Instead he watched Jaime as she drove, cute wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, her hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. The picture of the perfect driver, her profile lit up by the headlamps of the passing cars.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jaime asked, never taking her eyes from the road. “Think I’m going to mess up your rental insurance rates?”

He owned the car, but she didn’t need to know the details. “Are you sure you want to do this? Drive through the night?”

Jaime raised a dome-lidded drink she’d picked up at the Welcome Center, the chocolate swirls showing through the clear plastic. “I’m all caffeinated and ready to roll. You just try not to snore. I’ll wake you for the sunrise somewhere in Wyoming.”

“I don’t know how you can drink coffee that cold.”

“It’s espresso blended with ice cream. Ice cream is always good.” She fiddled with the radio, finding yet another country-music station. The girl had a gift for tuning in songs he couldn’t stand.

He forced the thought to the back of his mind, closed his eyes and focused on something more pleasant. Like the way Jaime had tried to milk a cow while wearing a skirt, or that she hadn’t seemed to mind when a toddler tugged on the same white skirt with berry pie on his hands. He’d never been with a woman who wouldn’t have thrown a fit at that. Instead, Jaime had met the little boy on his level and listened intently as he stammered through his life story. It hadn’t been brief, and yet she’d never rushed him through his disjointed ramble. Even when the boy’s mother tried to apologize, Jaime had waved her worries away with a smile and kept listening to the child.