Night Driving (3 page)

“We better get to work,” she mumbled and reached for one of the boxes sitting on her kitchen table. “Without the movers this is going to take us twice as long.”

He didn’t say another word, just moved over to reach for a second box. In the process, his arm accidentally brushed against hers and a tingle of awareness shot straight to her groin. Instantly, her nipples tightened.
Hello, soldier, pleased to see you.

Involuntarily, Tara sucked in her breath.

“What is it?” Boone asked. “Are you all right?”

“Just a catch in my back,” she lied and set the box down.

“Where?”

She splayed a palm over her lower back, inched away from him. “It’s all better. Gone already.”

“Sounds like a muscle spasm.” He came closer.

“I’m good.” She’d never been able to get away with the occasional white lie—which was why she rarely told one. Falsehoods invariably came back to bite her in the butt.

He kept coming toward her. The closer he got, the more Tara’s throat tightened. She would have kept backing up, but she was hemmed into the corner between the refrigerator and the stove.

“Let me see,” he said.

“No need,” she croaked.

He took her by the shoulders, slowly turned her around and didn’t she just let him like some silly, awestruck teenager meeting her rock idol. His hands were warm and heavy, stirring up the languid sensation that had settled deep in her core.

“Here?” He rested his palm against her spine, just above the waistband of her shorts.

She swallowed, barely able to nod. Why was she nodding? The next thing she knew he was gently rubbing his knuckles across her back. He didn’t say anything else, just kept slowly massaging her.

They stood like that for a while, not saying a word, Boone’s big hand touching her so tenderly it sucker-punched her. The refrigerator cycled on with a click and hum. She could feel his slow, steady breathing stir her hair at her temple and this moment...the two of them in her kitchen together for the first and last time, was both strange and wondrous. And tainted with remorse, because it was too late now to start something up. They could have had something special, she and Boone. She felt it in her bones. If only she could have gotten him to walk across the street, open up his heart, months ago.

“How’s that?” he asked, stepping back, leaving her both regretful and relieved.

“Fine, fine.”

He scowled. “You shouldn’t be lifting boxes.”

She shifted her gaze to his knee. “Yes, Pot, are you calling the Kettle out?”

“You’re right. I need to get some new movers in here ASAP.”

“Or you could just call Rodney and Joe back and apologize.”

He looked as if he’d rather have his leg squeezed in a vise. “Not a chance.”

She sympathized. “Tell you what. I have a lot of friends. Let me give them a call. There’s bound to be a few of them who wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

He nodded with a quick jerk of his head. He had so much pride. This was really hard for him, letting others help him.

“Call ’em,” he said gruffly and limped toward the back door.

Tara blew out her breath and pulled her cell phone from her pocket to start making calls. If she and Boone kept butting heads the entire way to Miami, it was shaping up to be a very long trip.

* * *

O
VER
A
DOZEN
of Tara’s friends converged on the house. By the end of the afternoon, the U-Haul was packed and loaded, the house cleaned and empty of everything except the furniture that came with the rental. But now, everyone was sitting around drinking beer and eating the pizza that Tara had bought to thank them for their help. They were laughing and joking and lamenting about having to say goodbye. A few of her female friends even had tears in their eyes when they hugged her.

See, this was the problem with recruiting friends to help you move, Boone thought. You couldn’t just pack up, say thanks for the help and get the hell out of town. No, you had to sit around and make small talk and linger. It wasn’t worth the hassle.

Tara, however, was the life of her impromptu party. Teasing and smiling and telling everyone how much she appreciated their friendship. Promising to stay in touch via Facebook, Twitter and texts.

C’mon. All that social media stuff was crap. Nothing but a huge time suck. And honestly, those relationships were superficial at best. Why bother?

Yeah? These days, how many of your friends would show up to help you move?

Once upon a time, he’d had a handful of good friends he could count on, but these days? Boone licked his dry lips. Well, were they really friends? They’d abandoned him in tough times.

Or hey, maybe you were the one who pushed them away.

He caught Tara’s eye from across the room and tapped the face of his watch. She gave him a bright, empty smile, like she thought he was the most pathetic guy in Bozeman.

Someone said something to her. She threw back her head and laughed with a rich, deep sound that rattled him to his core. No wonder people surrounded her like they were honeybees and she was their queen.

His gaze tracked from Tara’s face down her long, slender throat to the cleavage revealed by the V-neck of her tie-dyed T-shirt. She had a cola in her hand. No beer for her, since she would be driving later tonight. His eyes dropped lower to take in those denim shorts sitting low on her curvy hips. The cuffed hem hit high on her thighs, showing off those pinup-quality legs.

He felt a stirring below his belt and swallowed hard. No, no. No way. She might be sexy as ten kinds of sin, but he was not even going to allow himself to fantasize about her. That was just inviting trouble. He had to be confined in a car with her for the next several days. He was not letting his libido off the chain. His focus was on getting to Key West to keep Jackie from making a huge mistake, and he was not going to let anything distract him.

Not even sexy Tara.

In fact, he was antsy as hell, hating that he had to wait for her to wind down this dumb party so they could get on the road. Plus, his leg was achy. He needed to get up and move around. He hoisted himself from the chair and limped toward the door.

The summer sun hung on the horizon. The evening breeze was cool against his face. Perfect. Just what he needed to snap him out of red-hot thoughts about Tara. He wasn’t the kind of guy who went in for temporary flings, and of course that’s all it could be between them. Not just because she was moving away, but because they had as much in common as a brightly colored helium balloon and a brick wall.

You’re the brick wall.

That hadn’t been a bad thing back in high school when he’d played linebacker. Or in the army where physical strength was a man’s biggest asset. But now? The qualities he’d cultivated—staunchness, dependability, strength—were either lost to him or passé. What was a soldier without an enemy to vanquish?

“You’re doing it again,” a light voice murmured behind him.

Too close behind him. He could feel her body heat. Tara again. Violating boundaries. Hadn’t she ever heard of personal space?

He stepped away from her and in his haste, almost lost his balance. If she hadn’t reached out a hand to stabilize him, he would have taken a tumble off her porch. Damn knee. Damn heavy brace.

“Doing what?” he grumbled, wrenching his arm away. He caught a glimpse of her face in the shadows. For a split second she looked hurt, but quickly pasted a smile on her face.

You’re a moron, Toliver.

“Brooding,” she said.

“I’m not brooding. I just needed some air.”

“Come back inside and have some pizza and beer,” she invited, her voice soft and understanding.

She was so nice. Too damn nice. And ultimately, that was the real reason he would never ever sleep with her. He couldn’t taint her happy little world. That’s why he was gruff with her.

Well, she’s moving now, all you have to do is get through the next few days and she’ll be out of your life forever.

Why did that thought make his gut burn? He was glad she was going. No more having to make idle conversation with her. No more having to respond to her cheery conversations. No more Tara cluttering up his thoughts.

“We need to get on the road.” He hitched his thumbs through his belt loops.

“Right.” Her smile was wan. “You have a wedding to bust up.”

“Jackie’s making a big mistake.”

“Because you know her so well.” She was taunting him now, in that wide-eyed, “who, me?” way she had about her—all innocent, yet sly.

“She’s my sister.”

“And a grown woman.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t try to protect her?”

“I’m saying that I understand how overprotective big brothers can be and how they can ruin a woman’s love life when they stick their noses in where they don’t belong. Why do you think I moved to Montana?”

“I thought you came up here after a cowboy.”

“Yes, and my brothers hated him.”

“From the way things turned out, seems like your brothers had a point.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Just because things didn’t work out between me and Chet doesn’t mean my brothers had the right to meddle in my business. The mistake was mine to make.”

“And yet, you’re running back home.”

Her eyes flashed sparks. He’d upset her. He was good at that. Quite an accomplishment, since she was usually so easygoing.

“Because my mother is ill.” She took a step toward him.

The smell of her—both sweet and sensual—tangled up in his nose. His body hardened instantly. He clenched his jaw to fight off the erection and prayed she would not look down.

“Is that the only reason?”

“I miss Florida. Nothing wrong with that.”

“And your brothers. You miss them, too.”

“I do,” she admitted.

“I’m just saying, they probably have your best interests at heart. More so than some cowboy named Chet.”

“I’ll get rid of my friends,” she said in a low voice that left him hungry and aroused.

His gaze hooked on her mouth. What beautiful, full lips, strawberry-pink and glistening with shiny gloss. “Thanks,” he managed.

She touched him lightly, the bare brushing of her fingertips over his forearm, but it was enough to ignite his desire. He suppressed a groan.

“We’ll be on the road within the hour.” Tara turned and went back into the house.

Leaving Boone wondering how he was going to survive the next few days alone in a car with this tantalizing bombshell he wanted absolutely no part of.

3

Tuesday, June 30, 11:50 p.m.

F
OR
THE
PAST
three hours, they’d been driving east down lonely Highway 90. The barren landscape made Tara happy that she wasn’t traveling this route alone. Montana was pretty, but in the dark, it stretched out long and lonesome.

Funny, she’d never noticed how empty the state was when she’d made the drive up from Florida fourteen months ago following Chet, more for fun and adventure than true love. Her friends raved about falling in love, finding that special someone, but Tara had never been that lucky. She’d liked lots of guys, sure, and had plenty of friends, but she’d never had that special connection with a guy.

Sometimes, she wondered if there was something wrong with her, some secret inability to experience love the way others did. Her mother told her it was simply because she just hadn’t met the right man yet. The guy who would make her happy to give up her independence and settle down.

Tara sneaked a glance over at Boone and her heart did this strange little tightening thing. She was grateful for Boone’s company, even though he was trying mighty hard to pretend he was asleep.

The plan he’d given her—the control freak—detailed driving to Billings tonight, catching a few hours of sleep in a truck-stop motel and then hitting the road again at dawn. He’d programmed all their stops into his GPS and given her an estimated time frame for how long each stop should take. He’d made no allowances for detours. He was methodical and prepared. It drove Tara bonkers. How in the world could you truly experience life if you never strayed from the beaten path? If all your time was carefully plotted, where did spontaneity come in?

Boone had the passenger seat pushed back as far as it would go and he wore a Minnesota Twins baseball cap pulled down over his face. His breathing was slow and steady, but he had his arms crossed over his chest. Her gaze drifted down to his right leg encased in the metal brace. He had to be hurting from the day’s efforts, but she hadn’t seen him take a pain pill. He’d even refused the beer she’d offered him at her impromptu goodbye party.

Leaving Bozeman was more difficult than she’d thought it was going to be and it was all because of the man sitting beside her. She was excited about seeing her family again and happy that she wouldn’t be spending another winter in Montana, but for all his gruffness, she was really going to miss Boone.

Her cell phone rang. Who was calling her this late at night? She couldn’t see the caller ID in the dark, so she just answered it through the hands-free device that broadcast the conversation throughout the car. She tried to whisper so as not to disturb Boone. “Hello?”

“Tara? I can’t hear you,” said her older sister, Kate.

“I’m here.” She raised her voice and cast a glance over at Boone to see if she was bothering him.

“Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?”

“I’m at the hospital with Mom. She came through the surgery with flying colors and most likely she’ll be released tomorrow.”

Tara breathed out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I regret that I couldn’t be there for the surgery.”

“It’s okay,” Kate said. “You’re coming home now.”

“I’m sorry this is all falling on your shoulders.”

“It’s not. Everyone is pitching in. Joe and Matt are staying at the house with Dad. Erin and Dave are flying in tomorrow.”

“I’m still several days away.”

“No worries. You’ll be home to help drive her to chemo treatments once she recovers from the surgery. Really, the doctors say she’s got an excellent chance for a complete recovery.”

“Still, it’s scary to think of losing her.”

“I know,” Kate said softly. “She’s really happy you’re moving back home for good. We’ve all missed you.”

Guilt nibbled at Tara. Her mother had been her biggest cheerleader, always urging her to follow her dreams and her heart, but she couldn’t help feeling selfish that in her wanderlust, she’d left her family behind. While she loved adventure, Tara was a traditionalist at heart. Family meant a lot to her. It was time she went home.

“I’ll call in the morning,” Tara said.

“You be careful on the drive. Don’t rush. We’ve got everything covered here.”

More guilt. “’Night, Kate.”

“Good night, Tara.”

She cut off the call and peeped over at Boone again. Had he heard her conversation? The guilt turned into another feeling she couldn’t quite identity, a cross between regret and wistfulness. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

The car’s headlights cut a swath through the darkness, the single illumination on the silent highway. A shiver of loneliness passed through her and, for a second, she felt as if she were completely alone on the surface of the moon.

Up ahead, she could see the lights of Billings, and an impish part of her wanted to drive on through without stopping. Throw off his best-laid plans; prove to him there was nothing wrong with a little impulsiveness. She would have done it, too, except she had no idea how far away the next town was.

“Take the next exit,” Boone said.

Tara startled. “You’re not even looking at the road. How do you know the exit to Billings is coming up next?”

“I have an acute sense of time. At the speed you’re driving, we should be coming up to Billings.”

She shifted her gaze to the clock in the dash. He was right on the money. “Dude, that’s a freaky skill.”

He shrugged, didn’t bother to lift the cap off his face. There’d be no making end runs around this guy.

“Is the whole trip going to be like this?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“I’m only asking because if you’re going to be quiet as a corpse the whole way, I want to dig out my earphones before we hit the road in the morning so I can listen to some tunes.”

“You’re not supposed to wear earbuds while you’re driving.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s only common courtesy to have a conversation with the person who’s driving you to Miami. I mean it’s miles and miles of driving. If you can’t at least talk to me, then you’re forcing me to break the law.”

“You don’t have to wear earbuds. You can play whatever you want on the radio.”

“So, in other words, you’re not going to talk to me.”

He heaved a sigh, swept the cap from his face and sat up in the seat. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing now. We’re almost to the truck stop.” She sailed up the exit ramp.

“Why don’t you talk,” he said. “Tell me something about yourself. Your hopes, your dreams, your secrets.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to talk.”

“You’re impossible.” Peeved, Tara reached over and clicked on the radio. The Black Keys were singing “Howlin’ for You.” She turned up the volume. Loud.

Boone winced.

“Too loud?” She smiled sweetly.

“No.” He settled a hand on his knee.

“Is your knee hurting?” Contrite, she turned down the music.

“I don’t need your pity. Crank the damn music.” He reached over and turned the volume back up again.

“You’re a real sorehead, you know that?”

“I wasn’t always,” he mumbled.

She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. She turned down the music. “What did you say?”

Silence settled over the car.

“I know you’re a wounded warrior and all that, but this dark and broody stuff isn’t working for me. Get some sleep tonight, but then tomorrow, I expect a complete attitude adjustment.”

One eyebrow shot up high on his forehead. “Oh, you do?”

“I do.” She pulled to a stop outside the bed-and-bath motel connected to the truck stop.

“You think it’s that easy to just turn your mood around?”

“Fake it till you make it, baby.” Okay, maybe she was being glib, but there was only so much gloom and doom she could handle and she’d noticed whenever she issued a challenge, he got feisty. “You know what I think?”

“How can anyone know what you think? Your mind jumps around like a spider monkey.” The blinking lights of the motel sign flashed across his face in green neon.

Vacancy.

“I think that maybe deep down, underneath the pain and grief and pissiness, you’re just plain bored.”

“Bored, huh?”

“Yep. You’re accustomed to lots of action and you’re not getting any.”

“Is that supposed to be a double entendre?” He lowered his eyelids, gave her a sultry look that sizzled her shorts.

Tara gulped, ignored that and trudged ahead. “From here on in, I want to see smiles, smiles, smiles.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll drive off and leave you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Just try me.”

He reached over and plucked the keys out of the ignition.

“Hey!”

“I’ll give them back to you in the morning.”

“You’re a pain in the butt,” she said. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time,” he said. Then, for the first time that day, he gave her a genuine smile. “All the damn time.”

* * *

E
VEN
IF
B
OONE
didn’t want to admit it, Tara was right. He was a pain in the butt, he was bored and he hadn’t had any action in a very long time.

That included sex.

He lay on the narrow motel bed and stared up at the ceiling. He could hear the chuff of Jake brakes as eighteen-wheelers rolled in off the highway. He tried to sleep, but Tara crowded and clouded his mind. He had underestimated exactly how tough this was going to be—sitting beside her in the car, hour after hour, smelling her feminine scent, taking in the bare stretch of skin from the hem of her shorts to her sandals, hearing the sweet sound of her voice. It was all he could do to keep his hands off her. Now, he fully realized why he’d kept her at arm’s length all these months.

She was in the room next door. The walls were thin and when she’d taken her shower, he heard the water come on.

Instantly, he pictured her in those shorts that crept high on her thighs when she sat down. She had million-dollar legs and he imagined her sliding them over his. Her features were etched on the back of his eyelids and it was as real as if she were standing right in front of him—from the gentle arch of her sandy eyebrows to her determined little chin beneath those wide, luscious lips. Her face was shaped like a soft heart, wider across the forehead, smaller at her jawline. Her nose was short with a delicate tip.

He might want to deny it, but she was cuter than a basketful of puppies. Boone hated cute. Nothing could trip a guy up faster than cute.

An unwelcome stiffness gripped him.

Dammit. He did not want her starring in his X-rated fantasies, but his body had other ideas, his brain teasing his appendage with provocative images of her. Stepping out of the shower, naked, wet and slippery.

She turned him inside out and she wasn’t even in the same room.

“Stop thinking about her,” he commanded himself, but it was like telling a dieter to stay away from chocolate cake.

Goose bumps spread over him at the thought of what it would feel like to take her into his arms with those spectacular breasts pressed against his chest. Inhale the scent of her hair. Taste the sweetness of her lips.

His erection tightened, throbbed.

Ah, hell.

He flopped ungracefully over onto his side, dragging his injured knee after him and stared at the digital clock on the bedside table. Two in the morning. He was never going to get any sleep at this rate.

His shaft ached. He pulled in a deep breath.

Just do it and get it over with so you can get a few hours of sleep.

He didn’t want to give in. His body had betrayed him enough, but if he didn’t do something about this erection soon, he’d lie awake until dawn.

Once upon a time, he’d had an iron will, but these days? No such luck.

The persistent throbbing won out. Blowing out his breath, Boone reached down a hand, and with visions of Tara parading through his head, proceeded to take care of his problem in the most expedient way possible.

* * *

S
UNLIGHT
PUSHING
through
the dusty window jerked Boone awake sometime later. He sat up abruptly and immediately regretted it when his knee twinged. He gritted his teeth, shoved a hand through his hair. What in the hell time was it? His plan had been to get on the road at dawn. What he’d done last night had worked, but he’d slept far longer than he intended.

A glance over at the clock told him it was seven-thirty—a good hour and a half later than he’d planned. He’d no sooner gotten dressed and put on his knee brace than a knock sounded at his door. He opened it to find Tara standing there wearing a short red sundress and matching red sandals that showed off the sexiest toes this side of Montana.

“Good morning,” she chirped.

“Why did you let me sleep so long?” he groused. “I told you we needed to be on the road by six.”

“Relax. We’ve got plenty of time. You don’t have to be in Key West until Saturday.”

“It’s already Wednesday and I don’t like cutting things close.”

“C’mon.” She beckoned with a wriggly finger. “Let’s go have breakfast.”

“No. Let’s get on the road. We can hit a drive-through on the way out of town.”

But she was already swishing away from him, headed across the parking lot toward the truck-stop diner, her oversized purse slung over her shoulder.

He swore under his breath, picked up his knapsack and limped after her as fast as he could. “Tara,” he hollered. “We don’t have time for this.”

Stepping lightly, she turned and, still walking toward the diner, grinned at him. “You’ll feel better after a hearty breakfast.”

“I’ll feel better when we’re on the road.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“Watch where you’re walking.”

“I’m—” Her retort was cut off by an eighteen-wheeler bread truck as it whizzed away from massive gas pumps at the back of the diner. The truck came barreling straight for Tara.

Adrenaline shot through Boone. His natural instinct was to run toward her, throw himself between her and the truck, but given the shape his knee was in, he simply could not move that fast. “Stop!” he commanded and then took half a dozen deities’ names in vain.