Travel Queen Survival Tip #23: If you get stuck in an ice storm, find a hot guy to keep you toasty. Travel agent Darcy Burkell has a secret. She doesn't precisely jet around the world despite what’s implied in her popular newsletter about vacation destinations. When she hires photographer James Jones to illustrate her stories, they become close cyber-friends, comparing notes on exotic locales, vacation spots, and much more. James is sure that Darcy is the woman for him—someone who’ll travel with him instead of expecting him to stay home all the time. Putting his ideas into action, James shows up at Darcy’s office unannounced and suggests they take a holiday trip together. Darcy is too embarrassed to admit her phobia and turns him down flat. She knows what kind of woman he wants, and she’s not it. But her resolve is tested when she and James become gridlocked by an ice storm. Impassable roads force them to spend hours together in his vehicle…shivering. And cuddling. But will the fires still burn between them after Darcy confesses her big secret? Warning:
This
title
contains
dreadful
weather,
a
medium-sized
misunderstanding, jelly beans that taste like boogers and coitus interruptus by redneckus.
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 Claustrophobic Christmas Copyright © 2011 by Jody Wallace ISBN: 978-1-60928-853-2 Edited by Heather Osborn Cover by Angela Waters All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: November 2011 www.samhainpublishing.com
Claustrophobic Christmas Ellie Marvel
Dedication
This one goes out to my brother and sister, since they’re the poor saps who got stuck in an ice storm travelling home for the holidays one year…in two different states! They should have paid more attention to the Weather Channel. Should my brother or sister ever chance to read this story, however, let this be a warning to them: skip chapter seven. And you’d better not tell Mom I wrote that stuff.
Chapter One
Darcy noticed his ass first. It was perfect, cupped in old denims that weren’t too tight or too loose, the faded outline of a wallet in his back pocket. It was an ass that enticed her to drop her papers or beg him to check the pressure in her tires, just so she could watch him bend over. Of course, she could check her own tires, even change them if she had to. She had a bookcase of nonfiction and how-to books. She never knew when she might need to identify animal tracks of the Southwest or give advice about deep sea fishing. Yeah. Or change a tire. Darcy maneuvered around the welcome desk of the crowded Arkansas rest area, hoping for a better angle of the man. As it was right before Christmas, this place was travel central. People milling and gabbing, waiting for bathrooms, watery coffee and the feeling to return to their “sitters”, as her Pop termed it. She tiptoed past a squabbling family to peek around the hotel coupon display at the man she’d spotted. There he and his butt were. Nice. Very nice. She deserved something nice after the stress of the past couple of days. He was taller than he’d seemed from across the room. His shoulders were broad, and he was dressed for the weather—a thermal undershirt and a T-shirt over that. Dark blond hair brushed his nape. From where she hovered, she couldn’t tell if his front lived up to his back.
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The man rearranged the coat tucked under his muscular arm, making space for an old woman who also wanted to read the state map. They exchanged a few comments, too quiet for Darcy to hear. There was something familiar about his posture, about the way he shoved his hair back and tilted his head toward the lady beside him. She booked a lot of vacations for outdoor enthusiasts. Snowboarders, bikers, hikers, kayakers, wilderness junkies. He had that look about him, a kind of suppressed energy that said he didn’t belong under a roof, growing roots and gathering dust. And then there was the national park logo on the back of the guy’s T-shirt and his battered hiking boots. She was canny, all right. She’d make a great detective, as long as detecting didn’t involve surprises, small spaces, other people’s germs and confronting suspects. This guy—this guy was clearly not her type. She could tell just from his tush. But who would it hurt if she ogled him a little longer? The guy, maybe, if he disliked being objectified, but he’d survive. The truth was, Darcy couldn’t bring herself to return to the confines of her car just yet. She could only tolerate it so long before she needed a breather. When she traveled, she made a lot of stops. A lot of stops. Thus she was behind schedule, as usual. Her tardiness was made worse by the fact she’d been delayed at the office this morning. Ironic, considering one of her top travel tips for clients was always set out earlier than you think you need to. The old lady near the map hurried off, flipping open her cellphone as she went, but Mr. Dream Jeans loitered like he had nowhere to go. Was he not running late like everyone else? Rushing home for the holidays before the grey
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skies made good on their promise of nasty weather? Darcy’s father was going to chew her out for hitting the road after the all-powerful Weather Channel had predicted record snowfalls for the Southeast. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t seen a single flake. The Weather Channel had predicted snow and that meant it was going to snow. There’d be drifts over cars. Houses. Drifts that forced the entire Southeast to walk to school uphill both ways. Come to think of it, snow might liven things up. Darcy hadn’t seen anything in the miles of scrubby terrain other than SUVs filled with fighting kids and the occasional family dog. Until now. The man-scape was highly preferable to a picturesque snowfall. She wasn’t going over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house anyway, just to Pop’s to join the rest of the Burkell clan. Darcy feigned interest in the brochures, but her eyes were on the prize. Her heart beat faster, like it did right before she hooked a new client. His ass was probably taut and muscular beneath the denim. And tan. Every inch of him tan. From behind, she could pretend he was anyone she wanted. But as she’d recently wanted someone very much, someone she couldn’t have, that was probably not what she needed to be imagining. She mentally added a large, unkempt moustache and chewing tobacco to his image. He shifted his weight, his hand moving to his face. Stroking his large moustache? Picking his nose? She couldn’t tell. He was focused on the wall map like a new route through the flatlands between Little Rock and Memphis was going to magically appear. She could have told him there was only one good road out of Arkansas, and the faster you drove it, the better.
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She herself wasn’t getting anywhere mooning over his heiney. She had hours to drive before she reached Tallwood. With one last glance at the man’s fine assets, Darcy turned to go. Which was when he turned too, glancing her way with eyes as blue as the wide Texas sky. No moustache. No tobacco. No stranger. A jolt of awareness shocked through her like lightning. She knew this man. He frowned. “Holy hell,” he said. “Darcy?” She could say no and pretend she had a doppelganger. Or a moronic twin named Dingdong. But he’d grown up in the same town she had and knew good and well there was only one Burkell girl. “It’s me.” With a forced laugh she added, “Pretty incredible coincidence, huh? Of all the rest areas in all the states, you had to walk into mine.” He didn’t smile. “It’s not that much of a coincidence. We’re headed the same direction at the same time, and this is an obvious pit stop.” He didn’t mention the rideshare he’d suggested when he’d dropped by her office yesterday…unannounced. She did not, did not, did not like surprises. “Good point. I do always stop here on the way home.” Darcy lowered her gaze, feeling the same nervous muddle that had caused her to misfile a week’s worth of vacation itineraries during his visit. She wasn’t prepared for this. Man, she hated surprises. Surprises and loss of control. Also, elevators and anything lemon-flavored. “Hmm,” James said. She realized he was staring at her. “You look different out of the office.”
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“Thank you?” She was wearing sweats and sneakers and her hair was snagged in a messy bun. To top it off, she had on her glasses and no make-up. Great for traveling, terrible for running into a guy who’d driven across two states to ask her out, only to be rejected. Forcefully. After all, she’d had to convince him and her libido both it would never work. “Not exactly a compliment, Darce.” His Southern accent had a honeyed twang that weakened her knees, even when he was saying mean stuff. Clearly he was still pissed. “You don’t look so hot yourself,” she lied. He looked hotter than he had twenty-four hours ago, if that was possible. The scruff that had grown on his cleft chin only emphasized his square jaw and general aura of masculinity. Creases formed beside his mouth when he frowned, but he didn’t stalk out the door in a huff. “It’s been a long couple of days.” Darcy chewed her bottom lip, considering. James was mad at her for what he’d interpreted as her leading him on, which she totally hadn’t done. For one, she hadn’t realized his feelings went beyond friendship. For another, in six months of correspondence, he’d never mentioned the possibility of real life interaction—because apparently he’d taken it for granted. Running into each other now was so awkward she could barely force herself to stay in the room. On the other hand, if she talked to him, it would be that much longer before she had to get back in the car. She loved talking to him. She hated driving long distances. It wasn’t a tough decision.
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“That reminds me,” she said, trying to sound friendly, but not too friendly. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how impressed I was with your latest batch of photos.” He shrugged. “It’s what you pay me for.” “They’re perfect. Are you, uh…?” He looked at her with one eyebrow raised, so she rushed out her question. “Are you still going to work with me? I don’t want to lose my location photographer over a mix-up.” “Darcy, we emailed every day I was near a computer. We talked on the phone for hours at a time. What else can that mean?” James sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It
means
you’re
a
good
conversationalist.
The
rest
was
a
misunderstanding.” She knew what would happen if she got romantically involved with a man who had a travel bug as fierce as James’s—humiliation and heartbreak. Hers. He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t think my understanding is what was missing.” She’d assumed after yesterday their…association, for lack of a better word, was over. She’d assumed working with him would be out of the question. Her Pop would no doubt tear into her for rejecting that poor Jones kid—the weird one who ran away from Tallwood to take “pitchers”—but what could she do? She had to protect herself. “Can we please let this go?” she asked. “I told you. I have a…a friend. Boyfriend. I’m not a cheater. I can’t, I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to…” Have sex with you for hours and then talk for hours afterwards. “But you won’t.” “I—”
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Yesterday she’d kept the desk between them and he’d never touched her. Not once. Today he put a finger on her lips to silence her. She wanted to lick him. She kept her mouth tightly shut. “You’re right, Darcy. I’ll let it go.” He left his finger there a moment before withdrawing. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Nope. No traces of him on her skin. “If you’re not comfortable working for me—” “I’ll still work for you.” He smiled slowly, like he wasn’t willing for any agreeableness to leak out. “But I might ask for a raise.” “I’ll consider it.” Six months ago, James’s sister in Tallwood had learned from Darcy’s brother that Darcy needed custom photography for her travel agency materials. She’d convinced James to send Darcy his portfolio. Because Darcy had kind of known James in high school, she’d been happy to give him a trial run. It turned out he was good at what he did. Really good. Soon they were calling and emailing on a personal basis instead of a work basis. They shared a common background and a number of interests, like exotic locales. When he’d shown up at her office without warning, a twinkle in his eye and an offer on the table, she’d nearly had a heart attack. Now the shock of seeing him was merely causing palpitations. She wasn’t in danger of keeling over from amazement and unbridled lust. After one more long glance at her, James returned his attention to the map, his posture relaxed. She wished she could relax that easily. He indicated the wall with his hand. “Did you need to see the roadmap?” “Sure.” She didn’t—she had so many maps memorized, it wasn’t funny— but it was an excuse. She inched closer.
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There was no desk between them, no computer. What did he smell like? Taste like? What would it feel like to hug him? She hadn’t yesterday. She’d been too scared. “Thanks,” she managed. He nodded. “You’re welcome.” “Are you looking for alternate routes? The weather's supposed to get ugly.” The storm, if it happened, was predicted to hit northeast of Texas, otherwise known as Arkansas. “There’s just interstate.” He tapped the Plexiglas between Little Rock and Memphis. “Always did hate this stretch of road. I bet I'll hate it more with ice and snow tossed in.” “I know what you mean,” she agreed, glad they could chitchat in the way of travelers. Or in the way of travel agents, trying to convince clients they’d been there, done that and could sincerely recommend it. “We don't get much winter weather in this part of the country. The roads are especially tricky because folks don't know how to handle snow and ice.” He was a head taller than she was. She didn’t usually date tall guys. They took up so much space. Another reason to tell him no. “Can you handle snow and ice?” he asked. “Turn into the spin, don't stomp on the brakes, go slow, keep a count of five between you and other cars, pack kitty litter in your trunk.” She recited her memorized tips for winter driving safety, which she’d never used in Dallas. “Not the clumping kind.” He chuckled. “No, not the clumping kind.” She’d made him laugh. What else could she say to lighten the mood? He was en route to visit his family for the holidays like she was. No children, unmarried, and thirtyish, also like she was. He’d been three years ahead of her in
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school and they’d had one class together. Photography. He’d been a lot better at it. Darcy had a tendency to babble when she was nervous, and talking to attractive men who weren’t hiring her to book a Caribbean cruise made her nervous. But so did small spaces, large people, and riding in vehicles she wasn’t driving. “This weather is terrible timing, don’t you think? So many cars on the road, and they’re all in a hurry. Terrible timing. I bet everyone at home is stuck to the weather station right now. Pop plays the Weather Channel 24/7.” “You can’t control the weather, that’s for sure.” That was one of the things she hated about it. Bad weather ruined her best-laid travel itineraries. The agency had a cancellation policy to protect them from vacationer’s remorse, but still. She and James lingered by the map another moment before he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. His shirt pulled tight across his chest, snagging her attention like a flashing beacon. Wow, he was really…defined. She barely registered it when he said, “What time did you start out this morning?” She yanked her gaze back to his face. “Huh, what?” One deep dimple appeared in his cheek. What was he grinning about? “When did you get on the road this morning?” “Noonish? I had to stop by the office first.” And find the vacation itineraries she’d been too ruffled to file in the right place yesterday. “I figure we’ve got four more hours.” “This is a little more than half way.” She always stopped here. She always stopped everywhere.
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He cocked his head to one side, considering her. She felt every stain on her lime-green sweatshirt like a hot poker, branding her as a fashion victim. “How often do you drive home?” “Several times a year.” She hadn’t wandered far from Tallwood until she’d moved to Dallas. Now that she was in Dallas, about the only place she went was Tallwood. “Do you ever fly? I bet you can get some good deals as a travel agent.” “It’s still cheaper to drive,” she said. No need to tell him the answer was actually, Are you nuts? I never fly. Airplanes are teeny, suffocating death traps. “So where’s the boyfriend? You don’t spend Christmas together?” First tip on her Travel Queen list for female tourists? Never admit you’re traveling alone. To anyone. Instinct and embarrassment took over. “He’s in the car,” Darcy blabbed. “Maybe we’ll run into each other over the holidays and you can introduce me. Tallwood’s pretty small.” She’d heard the term “gimlet gaze,” and that’s exactly the kind of gaze he used on her. A gimlet, pointy stare. “He won’t be around the whole time.” “He who?” “He…eeth. Heath.” She was so going to Hell. “How long will Heath be around? I’m home until the twenty-ninth. We could meet for dinner.” There was that pointy gaze again. Darcy crossed her arms. “What’s with the twenty questions?” “I’d like to meet this mystery man I never heard about until yesterday.” “He’s not sure how long he can stay.” Crap. She was digging herself in too deep. She didn’t have much experience creating imaginary boyfriends, and there was no how-to book on it, either. Now her family would tell his family she hadn’t brought a man home at all. “I may just drop him off.”
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“Where?” “His, uh, house? I mean, his family’s house. In Memphis.” “He doesn’t want to meet your family?” She shrugged, hoping that was sufficiently mysterious. “He should make an effort.” James kind of smirked. “I hear you have options.” Darcy blushed. If only he knew how ill-suited they were, he wouldn’t have bothered in the first place. “James, you agreed not to—” “I know, I know. Sorry.” He pointed at the map, tracing several segments of road where the interstate veered close to bodies of water. “When the ice hits, it's gonna get ugly here, here and here. I hope you and your…boyfriend…have blankets and food because it could to be a long, cold night.” She nodded sagely, but inside she shriveled. He was trying to be sociable, share travel tips, and she was lying to him. If anyone understood the desire to share perky travel tips, it was Darcy Burkell, Travel Queen. Maybe she needed Santa to bring her a copy of How to Turn Hot Guys Down Gracefully instead of Little Known Hiking Trails of the Grand Canyon or A Claustrophobic’s Guide to Dallas Without Elevators. “I’m set,” she assured him. “I have a boatload of Christmas candy, and I bought a couple drinks from the soda machines.” He glanced down at her, an errant lock of dark blond hair lapping across his forehead. “That's a mistake.” “But you just told me to—” “Don't drink anything.” His tongue flicked the corner of his mouth. “Suck on a piece of hard candy, but don't drink anything till you get near Memphis.” She stared at his lips, mesmerized. Was it weird when he said “suck on a piece of hard candy” she heard something else entirely?
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“Why not? Gotta stay hydrated.” He appeared to nibble the inside of his cheek before he answered. “I don’t know if I told you, but I used to drive trucks. Long haul. I survived more than a few traffic jams. After a couple hours, certain bodily functions make themselves known. They're a sight easier to handle if you're a man.” She narrowed her eyes. “Anything a man can do, a woman…wait, do you mean peeing?” His lips tightened as he tried not to laugh. “Yes, I mean peeing.” Oh God, she’d said peeing to James and he’d said it back. The bathroom was one place their conversations had never extended. Still, no reason for him to be sexist. “Come on. A girl can find a gas station restroom as easily as a guy can.” She knew it for a fact. She’d visited every interstate gas station between Dallas and Tallwood in the years she’d been making this trip. Also every rest area, scenic overlook, outlet mall, park and historical marker—basically every justification she could find to escape the car. “If there's no exit,” he said with a straight face, “there's no restroom. Just the side of the road and a bunch of bored people watching to see why you're out of your vehicle.” “Well. That’s troubling.” She made a mental note to duck back into the restroom and take care of any lingering bodily functions. Also to tout “Don’t drink much until you get there” in her next Travel Queen newsletter. “I wasn’t worried before, but I am now.” He laughed and took her hand, squeezing it. “If you know it’s coming, you can prepare to deal with it.” Her brain short-circuited when his big hand enclosed her smaller one. She stuttered something agreeable, but what she was really thinking was how she hadn’t been prepared to meet James. Hadn’t been prepared for his sheer physical
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appeal, for his magnetism, for the fact he thought he wanted her. Her! She’d been able to fantasize about him safely when they’d maintained a long distance correspondence. A guy like James was not safe for a girl like her. Their idiosyncrasies would never mesh. He hadn’t let go yet. He had warm hands. Long fingers. “You seem nervous,” he commented. “I am. The image you painted of a traffic jam is nerve-wracking.” His touch was about to spin her into a giant fuzz ball of anxiety. “Do you really think we’ll see ice and snow?” “Looks like it.” His thumb rubbed the back of her fingers. “You got a full tank of gas?” “Yeah.” She realized she was smiling like an idiot—where had that come from?—and slipped her hand free. “Thanks for the advice. Do you mind if I use the no-drinking tip in my next newsletter?” “Gonna give me credit?” “Of course.” “I’ll be watching for it.” He subscribed to her newsletter for more than just the pictures, or so he said, because the pictures these days were mostly his and it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them. She was meticulous about dotting her i’s and crossing her t’s legally when she used other people’s observations. It was a necessity, all things considered. Darcy brushed her sweatpants at the hips, wishing she had pockets to stuff her hands into. “I guess we should go.” He just stared at her as if waiting for something. God, he was goodlooking. His eyes were gorgeous, his hair sun-streaked, pushed back from his
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face by those long, callused fingers. His movements were slow and easy, like he never hurried. Did he know how sexy he was? Did he have any idea she was standing here imagining him naked? Thoughts fluttered in her brain like moths around a light. If he wasn’t going to ditch her and they got trapped in the snow, they could talk each other through it. Or text each other. Send each other photos. She’d ask for one of his hands. She’d send him one of her…Christmas candy. Unfortunately, she couldn’t convince herself to suggest it. He didn’t bring it up, either. It didn’t seem like a good idea. Their friendliness had been what had given him the impression she liked him as more than her favorite photographer. He’d been right. And she was right to lie about it and save them both the trouble of breaking up when their lifestyles proved incompatible. “Well, James, I'm going to…” She jerked her thumb at the ladies room and scurried away, conscious that his gaze followed her retreating form.
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Chapter Two
James watched Darcy go with mixed feelings. The one person he paradoxically had and hadn’t wanted to see more than anyone in the world, and damned if she didn’t show up. Speak of the devil. But Darcy Burkell was no demon come to ruin his life and cast his soul into Hell. Hardly. She was kind of a goody-two-shoes. Kind of fussy. Kind of frumpy. God, that sweat suit! She was the kind of woman he never had anything to do with, but at the same time, she was all he could think about. She made him laugh and she made him worry about her and she made him crazy wondering what it would be like. It being sex. With her. When he’d shown up at her office, her hair had been in all these dark, shiny curls and she’d had two buttons undone on her blouse so he could see a hint of pale cleavage. She had enough to entice but not so much it looked like her chest would get in the way when they were mashed up together, hot and heavy. And then there were her tight skirt and round hips. Yeah, a man could grab onto Darcy and not get tired of her any time soon. But instead of being happy to see him, she’d stared at him like he had two deformed heads. And proceeded to make up some crap about a boyfriend he knew was crap the minute she said it. Even in that day-glow sweat suit, he still wanted her, and he never wanted a woman who’d shot him down. Thanks, but no thanks. There were plenty of
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easier women. And by easy he didn’t mean slutty, he just meant easy to predict, easy to be with and easy to leave. His feelings for Darcy had crept up on him like kudzu. One day he’d been thrilled to have a punctual client who asked for material that inspired him, and the next he’d noticed that whenever he took a great shot, he wanted to share it with her. He passed the world’s largest garden gnome en route to a job, and he wanted to laugh at it with her. He saw dolphins leaping in the Atlantic…the aurora borealis over Nome…the foamy white spray of a waterfall in Brazil…he wanted to turn to her and say, “Look, Darcy. Would you look at that? It’s almost as amazing as you are.” Not so amazing if she’d had the poor taste to reject him, he supposed, trying to patch the gaping wound in his ego. Women, right? Can’t live with them in their condos, can’t ask them to live in your tent. James shook himself and headed for the parking lot. While he’d been inside pretending the rest area was a meet-cute, snow had speckled his truck. Icy flakes wet his neck and face, interspersed with the drizzle that had dogged him since Texas. The light was grey, barely filtering through the clouds. It really was going to snow. Hell. He couldn’t put off calling home any longer. His nosy sisters had left eighty thousand messages at his mother’s behest. Everyone was expecting him—and Darcy—and he needed to break the news. No, Mother, I won’t be getting involved with a Tallwood girl, moving home, and popping out twenty babies. What’s worse, I suspect I’ll be late for dinner. His older sister Juanita answered. Thank God it wasn’t Sally. Sal was Mother’s clone, but Nita might give him a break. “Hey, loverboy,” she said. “How’s it going?” “She said no, so it’s going shitty.” James swiped the driver’s side window with his sleeve while he talked, not bothering to get his gloves.
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“I’m sorry, Jamie. I thought Darcy liked you.” James could hear a billion females gabbing in the background. He was the only boy, the middle child of five, and according to his sisters, his mother’s favorite. Not including the grandkids, of course. “I thought she did too.” Instead, his big romantic gesture had been a big waste of time. “Is she gay?” Nita’s voice echoed, and the hubbub dimmed. She must have closed herself in the half-bath. “Nah.” There was no reason for Darcy to have lied about being gay. “I don’t think so.” “I heard she almost married some Hispanic man a couple years ago. She wasn’t gay then.” “That would be Luis.” During their many exchanges, she’d mentioned men from her past but never a Heath, one of the reasons James figured Heath was imaginary. “Her brothers thought Luis was a great guy. They were disappointed it didn’t work out.” “Well, Mother’s going to have to be disappointed it didn’t work out with me, either. Isn’t Sal pregnant again? She can get obsessed with that instead. Another Jones grandchild.” Nita snorted. “Mother can be obsessed with all sorts of things simultaneously.” “True.” James studied the snow sticking to the cars, and the interstate with its heavy holiday traffic. The pace had definitely slowed. Fan-damn-tastic. The futility of this journey jabbed his gut in a way it had been doing more and more lately. If he’d had his way, Darcy would have been with him and they’d have entertained each other. Warmed each other. All his
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idle hours in cars or planes, commuting to jobs when he could be… He didn’t know what else he could be doing. Whatever it was, he’d thought it might involve Darcy. Guess not. “Is that Jamie on the phone?” his mother yelled. “Crud,” Nita said. “She found me.” Unlike Darcy, speaking of his mother was like conjuring the devil. Her voice grew sharper and louder. She must have opened the bathroom door. “Ask Jamie if Darcy likes light meat or dark meat because we can save her some thigh, maybe, but the kids always want the turkey legs and I don’t know what they’ll do if they don’t get a turkey leg.” “You should have locked the door, Nita. It’s the only way you can be safe.” James rubbed a patch of stubborn ice on the windshield, gave up, and located his scraper in the glove box. He wondered if Darcy had packed her winter gear. It was rarely needed in Texas, but the woman had sense. You only had to read her travel tips and stories in that funny little newsletter to get that. “Lock’s broken,” Nita told him. Then to their mother, “Give me a minute, will ya? I’m in the bathroom.” “In the bathroom on the phone,” Mother snapped. James heard the bathroom door slam. Nita would pay for that later. “Do me a favor. Tell Mother I struck out.” He wiped the scraper on his jeans to knock the ice off. “Better yet, tell her I ran off with a cute flight attendant. To Hong Kong.” “Not a chance. She’s already planning the wedding.” Nita snorted out a laugh when he groaned. “It’s a June wedding, by the way. At First United.” He ran cold fingers over his face, squeezing his forehead. “Come on. I’ll give you three hundred dollars to tell her.”
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“I’ll give you five hundred if I can be there when you tell her,” she countered. “Tell her I’m going to be late for dinner too. I’m still in Arkansas, and it’s snowing.” “So?” “You not watching the weather?” “Rudolph and Frosty are on constant rotation.” “It’s supposed to get bad.” If snow and ice clogged the interstate, it would be a right bitch, and boring as hell. Traffic jams were an even bigger waste of time than the standard cross-country trip. Hopefully the storm wouldn’t come to pass. He was looking forward to Tallwood for a change. To running into folks he knew everywhere he went. To his family, Mother notwithstanding. To being in one place with people he loved and not going through a single drive-through for a single meal the entire week. Darcy would be in Tallwood too. She was part of the attraction but not all of it. Even after her refusal, he still wanted to go home. This amazed him, but there it was. Tallwood wasn’t Hell, and gathering a little dust didn’t sound half bad. “It’s flat between Arkansas and Tallwood,” Nita said. “How could it snow enough to block a flat road?” “I don’t know. I’m not a meteorologist.” A flash of bright lime caught his attention as Darcy crossed the busy parking lot. She quickstepped along the wet black pavement, and it looked like she was talking to herself. In his eyes, she exuded tension. Was she worried? Surely she had everything she needed in the car. She knew about travel. She was a travel agent, for Chrissake. Why was he fretting about her? She could talk powder and slopes like she spent weeks in Colorado during the season. The woman knew her winter weather.
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He was due at some resort to photograph the new ski lift in February and had planned to ask her for a long weekend. Instead it would be just another lonely trip for old James Jones. “They always claim it’s going to be the storm of the decade,” Nita said. “It never is. I think the weathermen are in collusion with the dairy and grain industries.” “How much bread and milk did Mother buy?” He figured the snow was just getting started, but if he made too big a deal of it, Nita would involve the rest of the family. His phone would ring non-stop, and Mother would have the highway patrol checking the ditches for him. “They’re not calling for much here.” “I’m sure Arkansas won’t get much either. Hey, I gotta go. Thanks for telling Mother about Darcy for me.” James hung up before Nita could protest. Darcy had reached a tan Buick that clearly had no passengers. No loser standing between James and the woman he wanted. James tightened his grip on the scraper. Confirmation that Heath was fake stung his ego. He had half a mind to confront her but stopped himself. That was mean-spirited. No matter what, he didn’t want to hurt Darcy. She had her reasons for turning him down. She just hadn’t shared them. She didn’t owe him anything, not even money. She was an ideal client. Dammit, he thought she’d be ideal in more ways than one. Why wouldn’t a travel agent be the perfect partner for a man whose job involved travel? Especially one as quirky and funny and smart and interesting as Darcy. Such a good fit, and she could travel with him sometimes. He guessed she’d visited half the world already; her newsletters had recommendations and stories and the kind of information you could only get by being there. They could combine their trips—her fact-finding, his photos—and he could have it all.
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The woman, the travel, the job, the life. Just…dammit again. Dammit all to hell. Why didn’t she want him the same way he wanted her? And what in the world was he going to do with the stupid garden gnome he’d gotten her for Christmas?
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Chapter Three
Darcy clicked her tongue in time to the monotonous flap of the windshield wipers. She’d been wrong to doubt James, Pop, the Weather Channel, and all the shoppers who’d cleaned the bread and milk out of the grocery stores. Thirty miles past the rest area, the snow had picked up and traffic had slowed to the point where she could have jogged faster than she was driving. Frustrated, she quit clucking and squeezed her buttocks in time with the wipers instead. Squeeze, release. Whack, thwack. Car calisthenics. A white skein of snow whirled on the ground. It didn’t quite conceal the grey of the pavement, wet with melt and drizzle. Random flecks were the only thing making it through the window she kept cracked for fresh air. The hand towel she used to dry the water was hardly even damp. The snow had arrived, but it wasn’t setting records. So what was the delay? Were the other drivers soaking in the vista of crop stubble and farm ponds? A wreck, maybe. All these cars, it would hardly be surprising. She didn’t know if she’d left the rest area before James, but he hadn’t been at the map when she’d exited the restroom. She wondered what he thought of the traffic situation. No, she would not start second guessing herself. James floated her boat— without making her seasick, a miracle unto itself. But he was a travel photographer. He stayed in one place only as long as it took to document it with
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his camera. When it came to romance, he was not the guy for her and she was not the girl for him. As a distraction, Darcy flicked the radio dial, searching for a traffic report. Not much to choose from. The few with decent reception played Christmas music and country. She caught one travel agency spot extolling the virtues of sunny beaches on other continents while the Southeast was locked down under the worst snowstorm of the century. Worst of the century? Jump the gun much, Paradise Allure Vacations? Finally she picked up a local station on the staticky AM dial. “Khhh…khhh… Barnco exit on I-40, backed up to…khhh…khhh. Travelers advised to…khhh…roads and overpasses…khhh…Little Rock.” The traffic slowed further until she idled behind a tractor trailer, beside a giant SUV full of kids and dogs, and in front of a van. The eighteen wheeler whined and moaned as it decelerated. With so little movement, the air blasting from the vents grew hot against her knuckles. She’d cranked it up to offset the open window. Darcy nudged the window down and the air to mild. See? She could never have ridden long hours in a car with James. He wouldn’t have appreciated her travel tics, and he’d surely never have let her drive. She had to be the driver of any vehicle she was in; otherwise the car felt twice as small and squeezy. She tapped the steering wheel with her fingers, hands in the ten and two o’clock positions. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. It was a song of impatience. Tap-tap, come on, I want out of here, tap-tap. When she tightened her fingers as traffic lurched forward another fifty feet, the tapping continued. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
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The snow and drizzle had changed over to snow and ice, pinging off her car. Tiny missiles stabbed her forehead from the open window, ricocheting into the cabin. Crap on a stick. She rolled the window up. Shortly after that everyone ceased to inch forward. Was James feeling smug right now? Was he thinking of her at all? Darcy took a deep breath and released it slowly. Her wipers dragged on crust. She shifted the heater to defrost. The van behind her was too tall for her to see how many vehicles followed. The truck in front, ditto. She was boxed in like a Saltine cracker. No! Not boxed in. This was a big, wide road, lots of space, lots of fields. They’d start up momentarily. The other side of the interstate trundled along, jolly as you please. A metal fence bisected the rocky median. Drivers on her side had to be navigating an accident ahead. Snow showered her car, more pellet than puff, battling the wipers and defrost for supremacy. And still they idled. The AM station said something about khhh…delays of…khhh hours and ice on…khhh bridges. Khhh…hours? Serious…khhhly? Okay, this was bad. When they’d been crawling, she could convince herself she was making progress toward the next exit, the next stint of freedom. She planned these things out so she wouldn’t have to take a chill pill. Her little chemical buddies, helpful as they were, didn’t lend themselves to operating motor vehicles. Part of the problem was she’d loaded too much in the back seat. She should have shipped the gifts home so she’d have all seats empty. Really, a car felt so confining when it was cluttered. She’d published a newsletter about packing light this past summer.
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Darcy fidgeted, wishing the traffic would move. Wishing she’d had her office manager find the misfiled itineraries so she could have gotten an earlier start. Wishing she wasn’t the only travel agent in the world phobic about airplanes. And a few other things. Not that she admitted that to her clients, or much of anyone. It would hardly instill confidence to have a travel agent who never traveled. She never lied outright, but she did manipulate conversations to ensure nobody asked. She could count the number of states she’d visited in less than a dime—Texas, Arkansas,
Louisiana,
Tennessee,
Kentucky
and
unconsciousness.
She’d
considered a test run to Florida since she fielded so many offers there, but one of her most quoted trip tips was never go somewhere merely because it’s cheap or you’ll get what you pay for. The bleak, grey sunset was swallowed by the ticking clock, and the snow grew heavier. Thirty minutes. She could no longer see asphalt. She twitched through the stations on the AM band again and again, hoping for better news. The more the snow coated her vehicle, the more it felt like a suffocating, metal coffin. An inch of white mounded on the car’s hood, but she kept those wipers going, those windows clear. The cabin shrank smaller the longer she sat. Was it safe to get out? Where was her jacket? In back. She’d need it. The sweat suit was cozy but no protection against a…blizzard. Wind gusted the snow half down, half sideways. Oh dear. She’d read about wilderness survival in her books, but that wasn’t the same as interstate survival. It wasn’t the same as being stuck in her car for hours. No, she couldn’t think about hours, only minutes. In five minutes, if she was still here, which she wouldn’t be, she’d open the door and put her feet on
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the ground. Her butt grew numb as Novocain, and her nerves started twanging like bowstrings. God, she hated small spaces. Cars, mostly. Other small spaces were easier to avoid. The AM station fuzzed on and off. Darcy switched to holiday music, hoping the cheery bells would gird her loins to warn her family about her delay. She could hardly admit to herself she might be stuck here, in this itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow, candy-smelling car, because she’d ignored the Weather Channel, so how could she admit it to Pop? The truck in front of her groaned and cranked. Its taillights and brakes flickered off with a long, exhausted hiss. All around her, vehicles followed his example, headlights disappearing from her rearview mirrors. They were giving up? But they’d only been here a few minutes! They could break free any second. Darcy tap-tap-tapped the steering wheel, faster and faster, until she caved to peer pressure and flicked off her headlamps. It was probably a mistake. She needed to be ready. If they idled much longer, it could get nasty. It was cold out there, and getting colder. Snow covered the cars, the road, the fields. Was James stuck? She reached for her phone, charging in the console, to text him, but he might not welcome any personal back and forth. When she heard a door slam, just as he’d predicted, she twisted around to see what was going on. There were still enough headlights for her to make out the man from the SUV tugging a large, shaggy dog on a leash. They cut in front of her to the roadside. The human hunched miserably against the wind as the dog cavorted in the possibly record snowfall. So many tires to pee on, so little time. Darcy had half a tank of gas, ice on the windshield despite the defrost, and cars, trucks, families and dogs all around her in the same predicament. She
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was hemmed in by vehicles, by snow, by circumstance. Trapped in one spot with no way out. The sky had darkened, the stars invisible through precipitation and clouds. Pop was going to have a cow. She was going to have a coronary. She could take a pill. Should she? Better not. Any minute now, they’d be driving. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Ice and sleet. Snowing and blowing. What could she do? The lifeless fields on either side were unbroken by exits or secondary roads. The man and dog got back into the SUV. Exhaust fumes puffed from tailpipes all around, but her tips for stranded travelers—yep, she’d researched this too—advised erring on the side of caution. How long would she be marooned if she ran out of gas? She didn’t have babies to keep warm. She shut off the motor and thought of James again. Thanks to him, she hadn't had a drop to drink since the rest area. She was doing well on that front. Yet as soon as she thought of it, the need to wet her whistle smacked into her like the need to admire James’s backside earlier, too fierce to ignore. An hour of blasting the heater into her face came to a crux, and she could swear she felt her lips crack. Droplets of melt water trickled down the windshield. All that icy goodness going to waste. Darcy licked her lips and gazed at the tasty rivulets. The cola she'd purchased at the rest area beckoned from the small cooler in the floor of the passenger's seat. Candy. James had said to suck on hard candy. Her homemade peppermint bark was in the trunk, but if she were parked here in five, no, ten minutes, she'd open the jelly beans she’d purchased for Pop’s stocking. She could always claim Santa got noshy.
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Two arid minutes later, she flicked on the interior light and leaned through the bucket seats to paw through the gifts in back. Jelly beans, jelly beans, jelly beans. Gotcha! She unwrapped the flat box, saving the paper, and opened the lid. A smorgasbord of colors and flavors met her eyes. Cantaloupe. Kiwi fruit. Cappuccino. She squinted at the tiny labels. Was there a water flavor? How about a wide open spaces flavor? Doors slammed nearby, but the jellies were more compelling than whoever had braved the blizzard to pee. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Something rapped her window, and it wasn’t ice. Darcy shrieked and tossed the box into the air. Candies flew all over the car; a few stuck in her frizzy hair and rolled down the front of her raggedy sweatshirt. It was James Jones, bending down to peer into the window at Darcy and her lapful of jelly beans.
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Chapter Four
This time it wasn’t a coincidence at all. When Darcy had gotten on the interstate, James had too, keeping far enough behind there was no chance she’d see him. The traffic was heavy, and she didn’t know his truck. Still, it hadn’t been easy. She drove like her car might explode if she exceeded sixty. It was only when he’d heard the weather report that he’d sped ahead, checking for a nearby exit. No luck. Now they were all stuck, but good. He set out after half an hour of idling, first checking the road ahead and then backtracking on a hunt for her car. Bingo. Right where he’d figured she was, about a tenth of a mile behind. No Heath. James, with a weird sensation in his stomach he wrote off as hunger, illuminated himself with his flashlight so she could see it was him and not some ax murderer. He tapped on her window. She screamed loud enough that people in the closest vehicle could hear it. An SUV. The lady in the passenger seat of the SUV glared at him, but he motioned for Darcy to roll down her window anyway. She blinked those big, soft eyes for a minute before she started her engine and hit the electronic window button. “Howdy, neighbor,” he said, as if ice and snow weren’t pelting him. “Wow. This is a surprise.” Wind whistled through the gap above the window glass, poofing the hair on top of her head. She stuck her nose next to the
Claustrophobic Christmas
crack and inhaled like she was huffing oxygen on a plane. “What in the world are you doing?” “Checking to see how far ahead we’re jammed.” He gestured with the light. “I couldn’t see over that hill.” “It’s cold out there.” How long was she going to ignore the fact there was no boyfriend in her car? “It’s dropped into the twenties.” He’d bought his parka before Nome and hadn’t expected to need it in the South, but it was coming in handy. “This ice isn’t going anywhere. You doing okay?” “Sure.” She cranked the window down a couple more inches and leaned on her door, but he didn’t get the impression she wanted to be closer to him. Her cheek pressed the glass. It was more like she was trying to get out of the car without actually getting out. “And Heath?” he finally asked. “Oh. Oh God.” She buried her face in her hands. “Did you have a fight and kick him out?” “There is no Heath,” she said in a creaky voice. “James, I’m so sorry.” “It’s all right,” he lied. At least it was out in the open. “I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “You put me on the spot. I don’t do well on the spot.” “Seriously? You’re always coming up with hilarious stuff when we talk.” “That’s not a spot, that’s a conversation.” “True.” Nita had told him to warn Darcy before showing up, but he’d wanted Darcy to be impressed with his chivalry, offering to drive her to and from Tennessee so they could share an otherwise boring trip. Never mind that
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there’d been no reason for him to make the drive except to sweep her off her feet and all that crap. “I should have called first,” he admitted. Stupid move now that he thought about it with his big head instead of his little one. “It’s all right.” She echoed his words, and he wondered if hers were a lie too. “On your advice, I was about to break out the hard candy. Want a jelly bean?” His feet, even in his pricey hiking boots, were starting to feel like blocks of wood. He’d checked on her. She was warm, dry and safe, more than he could say for himself. “I just had a mint, thanks. You’re getting really iced over, Darcy. You got a scraper?” He started scrubbing her windshield with his thick gloves, shining his light so he could see what he was doing. She protested. “You don’t have to do that.” “No sense in you getting cold and wet.” “James, really.” She dropped the window further, sticking her whole head into the not-so-great outdoors. “The defrost will take care of it when the time comes. Please don’t go to the trouble.” “All right, but I don’t mind,” he said with a shrug. His cheeks and nose had numbed in the time he’d been outside, so he leaned down to block the wind from her head. This put his face near enough that he could see snowflakes clinging to her heavy lashes. Her eyes widened, and he heard her inhale over the hiss of precipitation. The growing racket of car doors and people stretching their legs faded as he sensed the heat from her skin soak into him. Thaw him like the sun. She closed her eyes and her lips parted. Her soft, pink lips that needed to be kissed—by him. Instead she shrank into the car, brushing pellets from her hair. Her cheeks were as red as apples. “I can’t believe we were so close on the interstate.”
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He didn’t want her to know he’d tailed her. He shone the light toward the ground so it wouldn’t blind her. “Traffic was heavy. I’m sure we both went with the flow.” “I guess so.” She pulled out a tissue and dabbed her nose. “I was going to say it was fate, but your explanation sounds smarter.” When he smiled, it felt like ice was cracking on his jaw. “Could be that too.” He didn’t believe in fate. Fate would have tied him to Tallwood his whole life, teaching school or running a bank or something. Fine jobs, but not for him. He made his own fate, and he didn’t call ahead and warn it, either. Surely Darcy was the same? She’d escaped the pull of Tallwood like he had. She lived in Texas and traveled all over. She lived for travel. It was one of the many traits they shared. They’d discussed their feelings about Tallwood thoroughly. Too bad they hadn’t discussed their feelings about each other thoroughly. “If you’re ahead of me,” she asked, “why did you walk back this way?” “I saw your car.” He shut off his flashlight so she couldn’t read any guilt in his expression. He couldn’t see her car from his or from the top of the hill. “How did you know it was my car?” James held a gloved hand beside his face, blocking the wind. “I saw it yesterday. There’s no mistaking that antenna topper.” The foam sunshine glittered in the meager light of the snowy Arkansas evening. It put him in mind of summery climes and Darcy in a bikini. She twisted in the seat, craned her neck to look at it, and suddenly clapped a hand to her chest. “Oooh.” He’d be impressed if he could grab her boobs too. “What is it?” “Jellybean. Jeez, how did it get there?”
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“Where?” He squinted into the darkness of the car, focusing on her ghostly form. She started doing something brisk near her chest, and he realized she was flapping her sweatshirt like she was trying to cool herself. He was hot for her, but he didn’t think that was the problem. With the car’s window down, the interior had to be as frosty as James was, standing here like an idiot. “What are you doing, Darce? It can’t be hot in there.” She halted. “Nothing.” James needed to say goodbye or invite himself into Darcy’s car before he froze his balls off. “Since I’ve come all this way—” he began. A door of the SUV next to them opened, and a man hopped out. His shoes crunched on the ice and snow as he rounded the front of his vehicle. James turned his flashlight back on. “Hey, man,” the guy said to him. “What’s going on up the road?” James flicked the flashlight toward the east, the direction they all wanted to travel. “I didn’t go far, but if I recall correctly, in a couple miles there’s a bridge. I’m guessing it iced over.” Darcy widened her window. “The radio station mentioned bridges and overpasses.” “The station out of Tarnington?” the guy asked. “All I can find is Christmas music.” “I’m not sure, it was mostly static.” She shook her head. As James watched, something tiny sprang out of her bushy hair to the ground, disappearing into the snow. “I think you lost a hair barrette,” he told her. She smoothed her hair, pausing near one ear, and plucked something free. She huffed and flicked it to the ground.
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“Nope. Jelly bean,” she said. He’d ask later. Right now the guy from the SUV was watching them expectantly, and exhaust puffed around them, encouraging James to find cleaner air to breathe. Or at least warmer air. The glacial night was starting to solidify his nose hairs. “I gotta find something to listen to,” the guy said. “The baby is asleep but my older kids are going stir crazy. The batteries on the DVD player ran out.” “We might be here a while.” James glanced at the SUV sympathetically. “There was an exit ten miles back, but you can’t make a U-turn here. You folks have enough gas?” “I think so.” The dad grabbed the SUV’s door when it started to open. “Stay inside, punkin, you’re wasting heat,” he fussed at the kids. James assumed it was the kids and not his wife. Two young faces and one doggy one pressed against the glass. Darcy waved at them. He heard more doors slam. Several onlookers converged on their little gathering. James had been in enough jams to know people would leap on any excuse to break the monotony, even when it was twenty degrees and snowing sideways. One man slipped, and the lady with him clung to his arm. Darcy shut her car off, reducing the exhaust odor. “I saw you walk past earlier.” An older man wearing a ball cap shoved his hands into his overcoat pockets. “What’s to see, buddy?” “It’s the Big Creek Bridge, I betcha anything,” another guy said. “I’m from Tarnington. The wife sent me out for milk and bread, but I had to go into Heckley to find anything. Now here I am.” “Bad luck,” everyone agreed. “There’s hardly anyone on the other side of the interstate,” Darcy pointed out. A few cars whizzed past, headlights gleaming on the snow, but nowhere
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near as many as earlier. Somewhere in the dark distance, that side was probably blocked too. It was going to be a long, ugly night for a lot of people, most of them families. With the weather like this, it was more dangerous than James liked. How much extra gas and stuff did he have in the truck? “Yep, it’s the bridge,” the local guy said. “Anybody got cell phone reception?” “Naw.” “Nope.” James hadn’t checked, but now he did. No bars. He couldn’t tell anyone at home what was happening even if he wanted to. On the bright side, nobody could call him. He wondered if Nita had broken the news about Darcy yet. Unless…was this his second chance? Darcy hadn’t told him to beat it. While he wasn’t one to try to crack a nut twice, Darcy wasn’t the average nut. Wasn’t she worth the effort? The object of his pondering slid her hands under her thighs and shivered. He could think of a few ways to heat her up that wouldn’t waste the gasoline in her tank. After more commiserating, the crowd dispersed. Two guys veered behind the tractor trailer for what he suspected was a bathroom break, and the dad got back into the SUV. James remained beside Darcy’s car. It shouldn’t be hard to parlay this into more. Company, if nothing else. Darcy was nice, nice enough that it was safe to be nice back without worrying she’d take advantage. She was considerate, remembering what they talked about down to specifics. Sometimes his travel anecdotes even showed up in her newsletter. She had this funny way where she could tell when he was troubled and convince him to spill. The fact she was a fussbudget fit too, like a
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comfortable chair. He liked Darcy poking into his business a lot more than when Mother did it, and he liked that he wanted to poke back. He wanted to be all up in Darcy’s business. All that and they hadn’t been face to face until yesterday. Rapport, dammit. They had it, and he wanted more. “Shit, it’s cold.” He stamped his feet as ice ricocheted off his nylon parka. “Unlock the passenger door and let me in.” She bit her lip. “Is that a good idea?” “It is if you don’t want me to get frostbite.” They were trapped on this interstate, in this snowstorm, so it wasn’t like he could rip off her clothes and have his way with her. There were people everywhere, and they were obviously watching. Besides, her car had front bucket seats. Screwing in those required major acrobatics, and neither of them was in their twenties anymore. “Maybe you could… With what happened… And you said…” Darcy hemmed and hawed. Sometimes begging a woman made her feel like she was in charge, only they called it empowered. The end result was it generally got James laid, and since his lady friend felt powerful, she usually wanted to be on top. That was fine by him. He liked the view from that angle. But he wasn’t going to beg Darcy. He didn’t think he’d have to. He also wanted to get more than laid for a change. He was man enough to admit that. Silently. To himself. He ducked his head, deflecting a strong wind full of pellets. “That’s okay, Darce. I’ll come back in a couple hours and scrape off your windshield.” “Hours?” she squeaked. “Hours alone in my car? Oh God. Seriously?”
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He shrugged and turned to go. Slowly. As expected, she stopped him. “Are you not worried about leaving your truck?” “Nah.” He shone the flashlight between the rows of cars that stretched further than the eye could see even before it had gotten dark. The snowy highway was a parking lot now. “It’s not going anywhere without me.” She breathed in and out for a minute, blowing like she was doing Lamaze. “Get in the car.” James smiled. It wasn’t a request; it was an order. She felt empowered, and he hadn’t even begged. That was fine by him.
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Chapter Five
As James walked around the front of her car, Darcy started the motor, rolled up the window and surreptitiously glanced at herself in the rear view mirror. A little pasty, hair fuzzed like a mop, and nothing she could do about it. She swept jelly beans onto the floor and snapped off the interior lights. The swing of the passenger door released what was left of the warmth. James’s long legs nudged the cooler in the floor. She switched the heater to high. He had to be freezing after tromping around out there. “What will you do if the traffic jam breaks when you’re here?” she asked. “It’ll be slow going in this mess. I’ll have time to jog up to my truck.” Slow. She wished he hadn’t used that word. “It could be any minute now.” “It’ll be longer than that.” He eyed her with what appeared to be concern. “Darcy, if you’re not comfortable with me being in your car, I can—” “I want you to stay,” she interrupted, a little high-pitched. It would be better with him here. He could distract her, even if he didn’t realize what he was distracting her from. “Good, because I want to.” Neither of them spoke for a minute before he directed his light toward his boots. “I like a car with leg space. What’s under the hood, a V8?”
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“No idea.” She’d chosen this model because it had the roomiest cabin she could afford. “Terrible gas mileage, whatever it is.” She recommended economy cars to clients. This sedan was nowhere on the list. “My truck’s a guzzler too.” His flashlight illuminated the packages in back. With his big, rangy body in the passenger seat, the space felt three times smaller, like she was sitting in his lap. “You playing Santa this year?” “I know, I’m crammed in here like a sardine.” There had to be at least six presents she hadn’t been able to wedge into the trunk, plus her jacket and purse. “Home for the holidays, lots of family, blah blah.” He removed his gloves and clicked off the flashlight. Darkness dropped around them like a net. “Gift cards don’t take up space. That’s what I get most everybody now.” “Even the kids?” “You kidding? They love going hog wild at the toy store.” When she couldn’t see, she could imagine she was in her living room, with cathedral ceilings, an open floor plan and windows galore. Too soon, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she was back in a tin can with a big man. She cracked her window. Then she twisted the ignition off, and the low hum of the motor stilled. “You okay?” he asked. “I like fresh air. You know, I think your family’s bigger than mine now.” Darcy was the oldest of four stairstep kids and the only one not married. Men found her high maintenance. Since she found herself high maintenance, she tried not to blame them. “Sal’s pregnant again too. I guess her husband’s trying for a whole football team.” He adjusted his posture, his parka scruffing the leather seat. He seemed to be raising and lowering himself. “Darcy?”
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She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Yeah?” He held something between two fingers, his silhouette mostly distinguishable. “Do I wanna know what this is?” It shouldn’t be anything gross. Her car was clean. She spent as little time in it as possible. When she reached, their hands intersected in the darkness. He cupped her fingers and placed a small, round item in her palm. His bare hands lingered on her skin, warm and toasty. She had to concentrate to sense anything beyond that. “Another jelly bean,” she said. “I dropped the box. They went everywhere.” “You’re freezing.” He closed her fingers around the candy and rubbed her knuckles. His breath tickled her hand. “I’m conserving gas. Some guy warned me we might be here a while.” “You have a coat and gloves? A blanket?” “My jacket’s somewhere.” The heat of his skin made her realize how frigid it had grown. The short time she’d run the heater wasn’t enough to offset the twenty-degree weather. She couldn’t see her breath steaming, but she bet it was. Before she knew what was happening, he’d taken off his parka and wrapped it around her, surrounding her in the scent and feel of his body. She could melt into his heat like snow would melt on his tongue. “I can find my coat.” She snuggled deeper and dropped the candy in his pocket. Why did he have to be so damn sexy? “You don’t have to—” He stretched out, propping his arm on the back of her seat. “I’ve never known a Texan to have a decent winter coat.” She licked her still-dry lips and tried to relax. His arm and her nerves made it difficult, but she wasn’t going to complain. She was grateful she had
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company as the cold night marched onward. If he weren’t here, she’d be alone, fretting about gasoline, cell phone reception and urination. Tearing her hair out, bordering on panic, going insane. Claustrophobia was a bitch on a car trip. “I’ve only lived in Dallas ten years,” she said, angling her body so she could see him. “Technically I’m a Tennessean.” It was too dark to see his expression, but his voice sounded amused. “I’m not so sure about that. True Tennesseans remember the ice storm of ’97 and always have a parka.” “That was awful, wasn’t it?” They’d been on Christmas break, but the ice had lingered so long her return to college had been delayed. “We were out of power forever.” “The next door neighbors got their power back before we did. We practically camped at their house. Sal’s friend Peter and his mom. I was just getting started as a photographer. Hey, I got some good snow shots.” “I was ahead of Peter and Sal in school.” Darcy hadn’t known either of them personally. They’d been freshmen when she was a senior. Peter hadn’t been one to talk to girls and Sal had been a cheerleader. “Wasn’t he valedictorian?” “I think so. His mom sold the house a while back, and he’s some hot shot lawyer now. He married some girl… God, what was her name? Winifred something. Another Tallwoodian.” “Winifred Sampson. I thought they both moved out of Tallwood?” How easily she and James had fallen into a comfortable conversation. If he were still mad, if he wanted to keep things strictly professional, he could have ignored her in the long line of vehicles. She’d have had no idea he was stuck in this mess, but here he was, relaxed and cheerful, chatting like he’d never had the crazy notion they should date.
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“They did. Tallwood residents seem to find each other anyway,” he said, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure about his intentions. That comment had ulterior motive written all over it. “That’s because nobody ever leaves. It’s easy to find each other at the Piggly Wiggly.” She stared fixedly at the snow patterning the windshield like a white Rorschach. One of the blobs looked like Maui, right down to the extra blob on the side. “If they do get out, their families don’t.” “It’s not just that,” James said. “Nowhere besides Tallwood feels like home to me.” “That’s because you don’t have a nest. You have an empty apartment in Atlanta.” James wasn’t there much, but he’d told her he’d rather pay New York prices than use his Mother’s house as his base camp. Suddenly she felt sorry for James. Her home was her castle, and she was lucky enough to have two. Dallas and Tallwood. Two places her comfort was at maximum and her anxieties at minimum. Two foundations to stabilize her. Did other people not need a castle? “My apartment’s not empty.” James’s boots scraped the cooler in the floorboard. “It’s got furniture and some pickles in the fridge and my skis. What kind of skis do you have?” “I rent skis when I need them. I like to keep my house uncluttered,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound like a complete fumble. She figured she’d take to snow skiing if it were easier to reach wintery locations. First, she was relatively athletic and liked to water ski. It was much less nauseating than being on the boat itself. Second, it wasn’t as if gliding across the snow on long sticks involved small spaces. “As often as you go skiing? That’s not very economical, Travel Queen.” Darcy allowed herself a tight smile. “I don’t go as often as you think.”
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That would be since college. During the legendary ice storm, she’d borrowed a pair of cross-country skis from a neighbor and whisked herself all over the yard. “All work and no play,” he teased. She hugged his parka around her. “Are you saying I’m dull?” “Not at all.” She wasn’t looking at James, but she caught the flash of his teeth when he grinned. He wouldn’t have so kind an opinion of her if he knew the truth. “You’re not dull either,” she said. “But I bet you’re cold. I should give this back.” She started pulling her arms out of the parka sleeves. He brushed her shoulder. “Keep it. Now that I’m not standing in ankle deep snow, I’m all right.” The wind took that as a cue to gust the car, whistling through the crack of her window. The parka’s hood protected her from the spatter, but the icy breeze nipped her nose. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about snow. Let’s think happier thoughts.” She’d visited every location of interest within a couple of hour’s drive of Dallas, including Galveston. Five hours, not counting stops. The ocean was so huge and unobstructed, it was worth the trip. “How about the beach?” “Good idea. You gonna send me to the Bahamas this winter? It would be an improvement from the glacier series,” he said. “My equipment was balky and it was colder than a witch’s… Colder than a snowstorm in Arkansas.” “We could discuss the Bahamas.” The straightforwardness with which he brought up the future reassured Darcy. He didn’t seem to expect things to change in any way that would hinder their business dealings—like an affair would. Like his discovering the Travel Queen never traveled would.
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“It is nearly time for the newsletter’s first summer vacation tips,” she continued. It wasn’t as if she thought James would try to ruin her if he found out, but the fewer people who knew, the better. Her sense of self-worth was at stake, if nothing else. She wasn’t doing anything illegal. She’d checked. “After this experience, don’t you want to go to the Bahamas yourself?” James asked. “I can’t take that much time off.” She’d grown the agency to include several junior agents, a receptionist and an office manager. More work, more responsibility, and more money. Enough to hire photographers for on-site shoots with very specific requirements. No more stock photos. James’s work the past six months had added to her newsletter and agency’s popularity. In the age of travel discount clearinghouses and rising airline costs, when so many vacationers planned their getaways online, attracting a clientele was no small feat. She had to offer something special. “Going to the Bahamas wouldn’t be time off,” James said. “It would be a working vacation.” “It’s time I’m not in the office.” “Think how much easier it would be to explain the photos you want me to take if you’re there to show me.” “Oh, I, uh. You mean, we should go together?” The Bahamas with James…visions of hot sun and cool water danced in Darcy’s imagination. Visions of James in nothing but swim trunks and a camera quickly followed. What did he look like under those clothes? “It would be smart. Efficient,” he said, like he’d been thinking about it. “Your stories and my photos. You could take it a lot further than you do, you know.”
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“Well,” Darcy hedged, “I’ve thought about doing a book proposal. The newsletter is popular, especially the stories. I’ve actually had story requests from readers. Locations, crazy plot twists, characters traveling with animals or kids, stuff like that.” “What gave you the idea for the stories?” Her unfulfilled fantasies. “Just trying to stand out in a tough market.” Darcy was careful never to lie, not in her newsletter and not in life. But the fact remained that, because she was knowledgeable, people assumed she was also well-traveled. In her literature, she relayed “personal” experiences from the viewpoints of characters she dreamed up, turning them into fiction. Sometimes she included a romance; sometimes a mystery; sometimes a cautionary moral relating to one of her travel tips. The tales were clearly dramatized and she cited all sources. Her lawyer assured her it was enough of a buffer. It wasn’t as if nobody knew about her claustrophobia. Her family knew, some friends, her lawyer, her shrink. Her staff had to suspect. She never got on elevators, she’d had the walls taken out of their office, and the restroom was gigantic, remodeled according to her specifications. She was always sending her junior agents on the investigatory trips that formed the basis of her stories instead of going herself. They loved the travel perks and she was indulgent as bosses went, so nobody ever brought it up. She didn’t think James was suspicious, and she didn’t want him to be. She’d liked him more than she should before meeting him, and now? She liked the smell of him, she liked his laugh, she liked his ass, she liked his stubble, she liked his shoulders, and she liked, God help her, the look in his eyes when he said he wanted to date her. She liked his flesh and blood self, his presence, and the way he was helping her through a tough situation, even though he didn’t realize how much he was helping.
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“I don’t usually read love stories, but I got a kick out of the one last month about Miriam and Alex,” he said. “That’s going to be ongoing, right?” Miriam and Alex’s tale had been sexier than her usual stories. She knew exactly what had inspired it and hoped James didn’t. “I thought about a series,” she said. “People like a romance in their fiction.” “Those two crazy kids definitely need to visit the Bahamas for the next installment.” “They—” She snapped her mouth shut when his fingers brushed the parka’s shoulder. She was so sensitized to him she could feel his touch through layers of down. “If you and I went to the Bahamas together, we could get really creative,” he said in a lower voice. Darcy swallowed. “Creative?” “Mmm-hmm.” Either he was going there or her libido was going all by itself. What would she give to get creative with James in the Bahamas. In Dallas. In her car, right now. She had to silence her inner hedonist. Damned hedonists generally liked to visit exotic climes. “James, I don’t think so. There’s so much going on at the office. Telecommuting is okay, but it’s simpler when I stick close to home.” “You’re a busy woman,” he agreed. “There’s something to be said for taking care of things yourself.” He responded so dispassionately to a conversation that had threatened to turn nuclear, she must have imagined his double entendres.
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It was time to redirect the topic away from travel, though it was one of her favorite things to discuss…all the places in the world she longed to see but never would. “So what kind of dinner are you missing in the Jones household tonight?” she asked him. “We have vegetable soup the day before Christmas Eve.” “Turkey,” James said. “Ham tomorrow and pizza for Christmas.” “Really? We do pizza on Christmas Day too,” Darcy said, surprised. “Nobody wants to cook after staying up so late the night before.” He laughed. “Small world, huh? I bet Papa Pat’s does more business on Christmas than Super Bowl Sunday.” Darcy frowned. She opened her mouth to say, don’t remind me how small things are, but she was trying to distract herself from that. Unfortunately, she didn’t distract herself quickly enough. Thinking of missing dinners and small worlds reminded her how long she’d been in the traffic jam. In the car. The windows had steamed up like someone was taking a shower in here. She couldn’t see out. Whoa. Not good. How long had they been talking? Sitting here? In this tiny vehicle? Darcy’s nerves jolted. She needed a taste of freedom, bad. She twisted the key in the ignition. The chime of the seatbelt alert filled the car as she rolled her window down. She shoved off the parka hood. Cold air bit her scalp through her hair, but the coat protected the rest of her. She turned the key off to silence the chime. James rubbed his arms. “You wanna roll up that window?” She stuck her hand into the night, her link to the wide open spaces. Ice and snow spattered her painfully. Better. “I’d rather not.”
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“All right,” he said slowly. “Then how about we find your coat? I don’t think we can share the parka.” But it was so warm. If she climbed over the console into James’s seat and… Darcy! “It’s on the floorboard.” She dove between the seats at the same time he did. Their heads conked together like a bat and a ball. Stars burst behind her eyelids. Her glasses slid down her nose. She and James fell back into their respective seats with groans and curses. “Sorry, Darce. You okay over there?” He laughed. “Shit, you got a hard head.” “You’re one to talk.” His skull had left a throbbing bruise in the center of her forehead. She blinked away a sheen of pain-response tears. “Stay put, mister. I’ll get the jacket.” Darcy shed the parka and thrust it at him before scrabbling through packages in the back. The jelly bean in her bra, which she’d forgotten, took this opportunity to drop under the right cup. Darcy hunched her shoulders but couldn’t dislodge the bean, so she grabbed the jacket. Her “winter” coat had a waterproof outside, fleece lining and the Weather Channel logo on the chest. It had been a gift from her father two years ago. She wriggled into it and settled in her seat, wriggling extra in hopes the jelly bean would fall out. It didn’t. She stopped before James asked if she had ants in her pants. “This isn’t the first time someone’s told me I have a hard head,” she informed him. “Me neither. Aren’t we a pair?” He reached beneath him and held up another jelly bean. “This makes, what, four? How big was that box of candy?”
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“Thirty-five assorted gourmet flavors. I spare no expense when I trash my car.” She zipped her coat, thinking. The jelly bean was an annoying blip of discomfort. She could slip a hand up her sweatshirt and snake the damned thing out of her bra. He’d never notice. “Reckon this one is…” He put it in his mouth and chewed. “Green apple. Hoo. That is sour.” “You ate that?” “Yeah, why not? It was my butt on it. What flavor’s your favorite?” She recalled his behind with great fondness. “I like the hot butt.” “The what?” “Hot buttered popcorn,” she managed. She quit trying to retrieve the jelly bean and started laughing. “Is there an iced tea flavor?” he asked. “I don’t know how much longer I can go without a drink of something.” She propped her arm on the open window, inhaling the frigid air. The frames of her glasses chilled against her skin. She hoped the outlet would be enough, but she still felt a little hair-trigger after her close call. “You sure about that? We’re not very close to Memphis.” “Yeah, but I’m a guy.” “Brag, brag, brag. There are sodas in the cooler at your feet.” If he drank one in front of her, that would be cruel. She hadn’t seen any ladies approach the roadside, but it was dark and the windows were fogged up. “Seriously, how much longer do you think we’ll be here?” “One time I got stuck for twelve hours going over some mountains.” “Twelve hours!” She’d never survive twelve hours with this snow squeezing in on her like the trash compactor in the Death Star. “What did people do? Did they run out of gas?”
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Or air? Breathing in and out and in and out in a tight space for a long time—oxygen wasn’t self-replicating. Oh, no. Darcy’s body started to jitter in a too-familiar way and she closed her eyes. No, no, no. Go away! “A few did. The police came along and helped everybody eventually.” “What if somebody…” Suffocated? “Went into labor?” “Hopefully there was a doctor stuck there too,” he joked, reclining his seat. Getting comfortable. Her pulse sped up to match her breathing. “I can’t.” “Can’t what?” “James, I can’t sit here for twelve hours.” “Might only be four or five hours. They’ll rig up some industrial heaters or salt or something to thaw the ice on the bridge, if that’s what the problem is.” “Five hours?” She didn’t like to go more than an hour in the car without a break. It had been close to two. Three. God, she’d lost count. Her skin crawled and she lost control of her breathing. He was going to notice. “That’s too much.” “We’ll manage,” he said cheerfully. “We’ve been sitting here, what, thirty minutes already? Seems shorter, but there’s the clock.” “Thirty minutes!” She inhaled deeply, unable to get her lungs full. Was it stuffy in here? Airless? “Time flies when you’ve got somebody to talk to. Hey, in my truck I’ve got a deck of—” “I can’t do this.” Darcy smacked the door handle, shoved it open, and fell to the ground. She sank into several inches of snow, her hands aching, her sweatpants dampening, her breath wheezing. Her glasses dangled from one ear. The interior light shone around her in a yellow square that invited everyone to gaze upon the
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crazy lady in the Grandma sedan. No, the crazy lady jumping out of the Grandma sedan. The passenger door slammed and she felt hands on her shoulders, urging her out of the snow. “Darcy, honey, are you sick? Is it your stomach?” “No.” She wasn’t going to lie to him. She wasn’t a liar, she just let people believe things that weren’t true. He helped her stand and slid her glasses onto her face. She inhaled long and slow, holding it in until she was dizzy. The wind blew the precipitation sideways, zinging them with flakes and pellets. Her hair whisked out of the bun and half-covered her face. She let it. It was fuzzy and warm. James peered at her with a frown. “Did I do something?” “No. I’m…” Neurotic. He brushed snow off her sleeves. When she did nothing besides breathe and tremble, he knelt in front of her and dusted her pants. She was too cold to feel it. The dog and the doggie daddy were watching them, but the kids were sacked out in the back of the SUV. “I’ve got issues,” she whispered. She closed her door, shutting off the light. “What did you say?” He stood, close, almost touching, his body blocking the wind. She had to tell him or send him away. Claustrophobia wasn’t bizarre, wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, but it had far-reaching consequences. Like a travel agent who didn’t travel. “I don’t want to get back in the car.”
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“Okay.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes. His hood was off; his gloves were off. His hands were cold too. “Are you going to tell me why, or is it none of my business?” Icy wind whipped their exposed skin in a painful blast of liberty. Better. Much better. Darcy didn’t even mind him sharing her space. His big, parka-clad body was so solid it seemed like nothing could knock him over, faze him, or catch him unaware. During the past six months, she’d learned a lot about James’s likes and dislikes. He was laid back and accepting. He wouldn’t hate her. He wasn’t a hateful person. Maybe if he knew, it could enhance their working relationship. Besides, who else was he going to talk to for the next twelve hours? Doggy daddy? “I have a confession,” she whispered. He leaned close enough that she could see him wink. “You farted in there?” Darcy kind of laughed. If only. “James, seriously. This is a big deal.” “I’m listening.” When she only swallowed, he caressed her hair, trapping it against her head. “You can tell me anything, Darcy. You know that, right?” Here goes. “I’m claustrophobic. Small spaces, you know. All that mess.” She stared at the snow. It buried her feet, and she could feel it soaking her sneakers. “I need air sometimes.” He released her hair. “And here I am crowding you.” “Don’t go.” She grabbed his coat and pulled before he could get away. His body bumped her into the car and she held him fast. He obliged her. She couldn’t tell if he was reluctant, but he did what she wanted.
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Darcy shivered. Everything out here was grey and white and black, bleached out by the storm and the night. Her front was protected, but oh bananas, was every other part of her cold! Her face and feet seemed to be getting the worst of it. They burned with chill, which was strange, in an oxymoronic way. Snow coated her hair and his hair. It coated their shoulders and their shoes up to the ankles. “How much air do you need?” James asked. “I don’t know.” The wind picked up, showering them with ice. Her hair thrashed like an unpruned bush. He tried smoothing it back but was unequal to the task. So he protected her face, his hands cupping her cheeks. A black strand of the monster flew into his mouth and he laughed. “You have more hair than anybody I’ve ever met.” “And a hard head,” she reminded him. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what it sounded like to be out of doors. The whistle of wind, the gurgle of motors, and in between that, the delicate rain of snow and ice. She heard voices, the crackle of a radio. Car doors. A baby crying. Her skin felt different out here, without the pressure of walls. Her body felt different with James pressing her instead of walls. Different good. “I’m about to do something forward,” James told her. Her eyes flew open and she stared at his shadowy face. There wasn’t enough light to read his expression. “Forward in what way?” He unzipped his coat and raised his hands to her neck. His knuckles brushed her jaw. “I’ll stop if you’re ready to get in the car.” Darcy’s pulse, which had slowed, thumped back to life. His face was right above hers. Once again she imagined him naked, a good sign her claustrophobic fit had passed.
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“I’m happy right here,” she said, and she meant it. “If we’re exposed to the elements, we need to be warmer.” He unzipped her jacket and molded himself against her, without fleece and fiberfill between them. Her head reached his shoulder. They touched from her face to her knees. Certain parts of them weren’t on a level, but she wasn’t complaining. That wasn’t why they were doing this. Not at all. Not even a little. Well, maybe he wasn’t. Of course, he’d been the one who’d suggested they get personal yesterday. He had to be thinking some of the same things she was. He adjusted his parka, encasing them both. One arm slipped around her, his hand splayed against her back. “Better?” “Yes,” she said with a sigh. She cuddled against him, her frozen hands on his chest. What would he do if she stuck them under his shirt? “You’re hot.” “Thank you. So are you.” “I meant warm.” “I meant hot.” Darcy smiled. He smelled like soap and cedar and green apple jelly bean. His other hand slid beneath their outerwear at the small of her back and cinched her tight against him. His jaw pressed her temple. His body pressed her body. When he spoke, she could feel his lips move against her skin. “The problem is, I can’t stay here much longer.” She felt like she could stand with him for two days, easy, soaking him in like a sponge. “Why not?” He bent lower, and his lips tickled her ear. “I mentioned I was a guy, right?”
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“You bragged,” she said. “Do you have to go to the bathroom?” His hand dropped to an area on her backside that was more suggestive. “No. Do you?” “No.” Darcy was beginning to suspect why he didn’t want to remain here with their bodies mashed together. Impolite things seemed to be occurring below their waists. “Darcy, I…” His breath sent shivers through her that were a lot more pleasant than the ones caused by the weather. God, he felt even better than she’d dreamed. “What?” Mesmerized, she widened her fingers on his chest. His body didn’t have a lot of give. Hoo boy. She recognized his growing arousal—and hers. “My truck’s bigger than your car.” “And?” He held himself a little stiffly, no pun intended. “You might not feel as closed in there. It’s got big windows and a taller roof.” “You want to take me to your truck?” “It’s not a come-on.” His body belied his words. Sometimes bodies don’t heed the tips sent by one’s brain. “When the traffic breaks, we’ll know it sooner. It’s not far.” Darcy was tempted. If they weren’t in motion, it shouldn’t bother her to be in someone else’s vehicle. She could open the door and get out anytime she wanted. It wasn’t a trap. “I have extra gas in the truck bed,” he continued, but he made no move to separate their increasingly frank embrace.
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She adjusted her posture until his thigh slipped between her legs. It was discreet, with absolutely no humping or rubbing or grinding. But she could feel his hard cock against her hip as he tilted into her, pressing, pressing. His fingers dug into her back, just a little. His heart thudded beneath her fingers and cheek like he was the one having the panic attack. He was thinking about it. She was thinking about it. Six months of thinking about it but never talking about it had brought them to this point. Darcy closed her eyes. “Could we run the heater?” she asked. “Whatever you want.” She thought she heard him swallow. “I have blankets. Cards. MP3 player. Iced tea. You can bring the jelly beans.” She wondered which reason was the main one. Was it as stupid as hers? Because she was imagining them naked. If his truck had bench seats, he could push her into the leather like he was pushing her into her car, only his hips would be right there… Or his mouth. Darcy closed her eyes and thought of his cock, thought of hard candy, and him sucking and licking. Tip for female travelers—don’t let vacation exhilaration tempt you into a one night stand. If he likes you, he’ll call you after the sunburn fades. “It’s not far,” he repeated. His hand was so big it nearly spanned her back. She’d turned him down yesterday. Today she’d confessed her big secret. He knew the truth now. Surely he could put two and two together and understand what her claustrophobia meant about her? About them? No hot trips to the Bahamas, that was for sure. Was he okay with that? Was he okay with her? Dammit! Darcy couldn’t bear to end this, but she couldn’t bear to commit to something that had disaster written all over it. It could be a dumb move. Because lingering in several inches of snow and ice was so smart. Clearly the
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sub-freezing temperatures had sapped her common sense. Her feet ached so much it felt like a vice had tightened on them. It could be dumb. But it could be a risk that seriously paid off. She’d liked him already, and adding his colossal sexiness to that mix was nigh irresistible. His fingers found the gap between her waistband and her shirt. He brushed her bare skin, and she nearly went up in flames. “It’s cold, Darcy.” “I’m good,” she managed. His icy touch sizzled through her, and she wanted nothing more than for him to grab her ass and shove himself inside her. Okay, she wanted one thing more. For him to do that in private. “You could get frostbite if we stand here much longer.” He pushed away from her and opened her door. “Get in or come with me.” “If I want to live?” she quipped. His chin lowered. “Now.” Would he toss her over his shoulder if she refused? That sounded positively…exciting. But they had an audience, and he was right. It was too damned cold. “I’ll get the candy.” Accepting an invitation to his place after what was essentially a first date. This wasn’t a tip she’d give anyone, anytime, whether traveling or at home. But his place was bigger.
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Chapter Six
Darcy was going to drive him insane. Her soft body and her smart mouth and her funny little ways. This claustrophobia thing, James didn’t know what to make of it, but it sure as hell didn’t stop him from thinking about her. Worrying about her. Hypothermia wasn’t a damn joke. He’d been about five seconds from stuffing her bodily back into her vehicle. Considering he’d been two second from ripping off that hideous sweat suit and fucking her against her car, her capitulation had come just in time. It was like she wanted to torture him. Now he was leading her to his truck, her babbling nonstop, and all he could think about was whether this meant her no had changed to a yes. She had to recognize what was on his mind. He’d had an obvious hard-on, and she’d been fondling his pecs. If it was still a no, well, he wouldn’t press the issue. Tonight. He and Darcy weren’t the only ones migrating between vehicles. Three minutes into their snowy trek, they ran into an impromptu party in the lee of a Winnebago. A couple of guys had produced a charcoal grill and were cooking hotdogs. More folks had thrown open their stashes of holiday goodies, and the guy who’d said he was from Tarnington had contributed his bread and milk to the buffet.
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As they watched, two women headed off the interstate toward some small, scrubby trees, clutching each other’s arms as they minced through the snow. He felt sorry for them. Hell of a night to have to squat to pee. A man with a harried expression was knocking on windows down the row. “Anybody got any baby formula?” “A couple cars down, there’s a red SUV with a family that has a baby,” James told him. “They seem like nice folks. You could try them.” “Hi, everybody,” Darcy piped up. “Isn’t this crazy weather?” She started chatting with guy from Tarnington like she wanted to visit a while, but James had no intention of dawdling. Her coat wasn’t warm enough, and he didn’t think it would be appropriate in mixed company for him to tuck her inside his parka again. Though Darcy had talked incessantly since she’d decided to cooperate, she hadn’t mentioned their big, horny bear hug. Neither had he. Not a single leading comment from either of them. He had no idea if she was envisioning nudity and hot times in their near future. What was she going to do, grab his ass and ask if he had condoms in his truck? He did. Remembering the condoms made James impatient. Nobody had any news about the weather beyond the fact the snow was expected to continue through the night. Nobody had any news at all about the traffic jam. “Let’s go, Darce,” he whispered. “You’re not dressed for this weather.” “Be safe, everybody,” she called as he tugged her away from the group. “Happy holidays.” He guided her between the cars, where the snow was the shallowest and most tramped down. It was slippery. Darcy kept stumbling, which gave him a good excuse to hold onto her.
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“I feel like somebody sewed Frankenstein feet on my legs,” she complained. Enough cars had left their headlights on that it wasn’t hard to see. “They don’t work right.” “You need boots.” James supported her when she slipped again. She clutched her jelly beans like they’d cushion her fall. He clutched her. “You don’t rent boots, do you?” She rolled her eyes at him. “I own boots, silly man. I didn’t think I’d need them.” They reached his truck. He helped her inside, glad he’d had it detailed before he’d gone to Dallas. Her car had been clean as a whistle, give or take a jelly bean or two. “Big enough?” “It’s surprisingly roomy.” She slid across the bench seat, rubbing the leather, and put her purse and jelly beans between them. “High ceiling. Wide windows. It has a back seat, and you can pack your luggage in that box in the truck bed. No clutter.” “You bet. I’m six-two, Darce. I gotta be able to sleep in here if it comes to it.” He’d roughed it on numerous occasions, though more and more he wanted to go to a hotel and kick back—check and see if Darcy was online—instead of working eighteen hours a day. “It pays to have an extended cab.” “I like it. I should trade my sedan in for one of these.” She bounced a little. “Comfy too.” After he removed his gloves, James double-checked the emergency brake and cranked on the motor and heater. The vents gusted out frosty air. Darcy shivered. “You want to crack a window?” he asked. If it kept her from spazzing, he’d set the heat on max or find some other way to keep them warm.
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She shook herself like his question brought her back to earth. “A couple inches, if that’s okay.” He dropped the glass about an inch. He eyed her to see if that was enough, and she didn’t say anything. Good. He wanted to let the heat build enough for them to take off their clothes. Dammit, he had to ease into that. And it might be smart to get her to make the first move. Women were more likely to be all smiles the next day when they thought the sex had been their idea, and he wanted Darcy to feel really smiley about him tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. It would pretty much be his best Christmas ever if he could hook up with Darcy. The object of his desire leaned against the glass and hummed. The amber glow of the dash dials lit her pretty face like candles. When she tilted her head, it turned her lenses orange. James propped an arm on the back of the seat. “Have you always been claustrophobic?” he asked. She licked her lips. “I’m not nuts, you know.” “Honey, I didn’t say you were.” If she was sensitive about it, it might not be a safe topic. She’d seemed unhappy about telling him. But everything about her was so intriguing, he wanted more information. Was it hard for her? Was there anything he needed to do to help? “One of my best friends is claustrophobic.” “Really? Who?” He meant her, so he just grinned. Hell, he’d told her about the time he’d nearly
gotten
himself
killed
hang
gliding.
It
wasn’t
comparable
to
claustrophobia, but his fixation on getting the perfect shot had been known to land his ass in hot water. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
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“We can talk about it. You deserve the truth after I nearly froze you.” She stuck her hands up her jacket sleeves, hugging herself. James tilted one of his vents toward her. It was just beginning to blow warm. “I never liked small spaces, but I had an MRI in my twenties that seemed to trigger it.” “I haven’t had an MRI. Nita did once. Said it was awful.” “Oh, it is.” She shuddered. “Anyway, the claustrophobia’s not severe as long as I control my environment. I can avoid most situations that give me the creeps.” “Like what?” “Oh, you know.” She avoided eye contact. “MRIs. Elevators.” He got the impression she was hiding something important but didn’t want to bully her. “What else do you do for it?” “Take the stairs.” She grinned, but it didn’t seem like a cheerful grin. “I don’t go spelunking, either.” He couldn’t recall her writing up any caves as vacation destinations, but he’d only been reading her newsletter six months. “Miriam and Alex won’t be visiting Carlsbad, huh?” She huffed out a breath and started jiggling her foot. “Definitely not.” “It’s making you uncomfortable to tell me about this,” he guessed. There’d been no reason for her to share this when their relationship was longdistance, and he wondered if it had anything to do with her refusal to let him chauffer her to Tallwood. “You keep it to yourself, don’t you?” She nodded. “I consider it private.” “Then I’ll keep it to myself as well,” he said. “Does your family know?” “Most of them.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not ignoring it. I see a therapist, I do yoga, and I have anti-anxiety meds for acute attacks.”
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Jumping out of the car into a blizzard seemed acute to James. “Do you need a pill? I can get them from your car if you want.” Stupid, she probably kept them in her purse. “Come on, James. Friends don’t let friends drive while medicated,” she said with a smile. “You’re not driving right now.” The fact she’d referred to them as friends was a positive sign. He’d worried after she’d turned him down that they’d never speak to each other again. Once the romance topic got broached, it was hard to pretend it hadn’t. Plus he’d needed time to sulk. “Speaking of driving, what about cars, Darce?” She pursed her lips. “What about them?” He just looked at her. “I make a lot of pit stops.” Her jaw tightened and she poked her glasses up her nose. “I don’t travel with other people much.” “I get that now.” So the claustrophobia thing was part of the reason she hadn’t said yes to him. Too bad—she could have told him. He wouldn’t have minded prolonging their trip to see a lot of sights and more of Darcy. “If someone’s a friend, he’ll understand. He’ll work with you.” “I guess.” She pointed behind them. “I’m sorry about earlier.” “No harm, no foul.” He unzipped his parka and caught her staring at his chest when he slid the parka off his arms. Wasn’t she warm enough to take off her coat? He tilted the rest of the vents toward her. “You weren’t harmed, were you?” “My feet would hurt if I could feel them. I need to take my shoes off. Is that okay? I promise I took a bath this morning.”
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“Shit, I forgot about your wet shoes.” James grabbed her legs and swung them onto the bench. She had on these white canvas things better suited to summer than winter. “I don’t want to get your leather dirty.” She fumbled at knots still crusted with ice and snow. “This is hardly what I call dirt.” He nudged her clumsy fingers aside and yanked the laces. She kept interfering, trying to do it herself, and he stilled her hands with his. “I got this. Your hands are too cold.” She didn’t listen, of course. In spite of her help, he managed to get the sneakers off with a wet splorch. Darcy uttered a long hiss, wiggling her toes. “That smarts.” “Your socks are soaked.” He stretched into the back of the cab, clanked around, and came up with a lap blanket. “How about your pants?” “Dry,” she said quickly. “Liar.” The green fabric displayed more wet spots than dry ones. “Take off your socks and pants and wrap this around you.” “I’m fine.” James raised an eyebrow. “You too numb to get your pants off, Frankenstein? No problem. I’m here to serve.” He reached for her waist. As expected, she batted him away. “Give me the blanket, pervert.” She draped it over her lower half and shucked the ugly sweat pants. “Where should I put these?” He draped them across the back seat to dry. Maybe he’d let her put them on after a while. And maybe he’d have her out of her jacket and shirt soon. “Socks.” She removed those too, fumbling beneath the blanket’s fuzzy plaid surface, and tossed them onto the floor.
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“Jacket.” “It’s not wet.” But she handed it to him anyway and he placed it aside. He gestured at her legs, bent at the knees. “Give me your feet.” “No.” “Let me check them,” he said. “They definitely have sensation in them.” She unbent her legs so her feet slid along the seat toward him. “No frostbite.” He whipped aside the blanket and switched on the cab lights. Pruney wrinkles marred the bottoms of her feet. Her skin was as pale as milk and her toenails were painted blue, sort of like a corpse. However, there were no signs of frostbite. “That’s a weird color for toes. Reminds me of a zombie.” He started chafing her cool, moist skin with the polyester blanket. “You’re such a flatterer.” “A freshly dead zombie. If it weren’t for your toes, you could pass.” She had pretty feet. Slender and soft. Her toes were straight and her arches were high. He pushed the blanket up to her knees and held her ankles when she tried to shrink beneath it. “Cut it out. I’m warming you up.” She stammered something about heater vents as he stroked her silky skin. With what he hoped was a deft touch, he massaged her heels and arches and toes, restoring them to normal body temperature. Next he’d think about how to heat her body up. After a particularly solid squeeze of her arch, Darcy let out a breathy moan which she tried to cover with a cough. “Excuse me.” James grinned. In that story with the couple who’d fooled around on a camping trip, it had all started with a foot rub. Did she fantasize about foot rubs? “Is this good?” he asked.
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“Yes, thanks.” Her voice was half an octave higher than normal. “Do you like it better here?” He rubbed the balls of her feet before shifting to the arches. “Or here?” “I like both.” She tightened the blanket around her knees. He did both for a minute before moving to the heel. She moaned again, a little hmm of pleasure. He glanced up and smiled. “What about here?” Darcy’s head lolled against the window and her eyelids were heavy. Her lips parted like she was about to invite him to come up and see her some time. “I don’t have frostbite.” “I know.” He could barely keep himself from lunging forward and kissing her. Everywhere. That was one thing he’d never done in this truck, but he figured he could manage. “You can stop now.” She pushed her wild black hair out of her face, balling it between her head and the window glass. “Are you, um, cold anywhere?” He shook his head slowly. “Not a bit.” “Can I have my feet back?” “Sure.” This time he didn’t stop her when she drew her knees up. “I can’t imagine living somewhere it snows all the time. No wonder you don’t want to repeat the Alaska trip.” “Unfortunately, I can imagine it.” He’d spent a long season in upper Canada once. “It’s not my favorite climate.” “Nor mine.” Darcy didn’t seem to realize the blanket wasn’t covering her outer thigh, the one nearest the vents. James could distinguish some white, panty-like fabric near her hip. “Is there anything else I can do to make you comfortable?”
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“Noooo.” She drew it out like she had something in mind. So did he. She could hardly be toastier than if he took off his clothes and got under that blanket with her. Body heat. “What can I do for you, Darcy?” he asked as suggestively as possible without coming across like a sleaze. She picked up the jelly beans and rattled the box. Her movement shifted the blanket over the tempting glimpse of leg. Damn. “Iced tea?” “You’ll have to go pee.” He waved at the snow and ice pelting the windshield. “Christ, look at it coming down.” He’d let her put the pants on for a potty break, he supposed. “I’m going to have to go to the bathroom sooner or later. I might as well enjoy it,” she said with a shrug. “Sweet or unsweet?” “What do you take me for, darlin’, a Yankee?” he said with a laugh. “It’s sweet tea.” “Any lemon in it?” “Nope.” He got the thermos out and poured tea into his travel mug while she arranged the tray of jelly beans between them. She sat cross-legged, facing him, and poked around in the jumble of candy. “They’re out of order.” “So we’ll be surprised.” “I don’t like surprises,” she said. “I wouldn’t have guessed that. That’s interesting.” Along with the claustrophobia, that would also explain her reaction when he’d shown up at her office. To him it was a logical assumption they’d spend Christmas together. To her, it was a surprise. Weird. “Is it?” She held up a yellow bean to the cab light. “Well, yeah. I thought everybody liked surprises.” “Surprise, surprise,” she said with a little smirk. “I don’t.”
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“Why not?” “I don’t know. The control thing, I guess. Staying on top of my environment.” She put the bean in her mouth, chewed, and pulled a face. “I hate lemon.” “Wash it down.” He handed her his tea mug. She blinked at him like that was a surprise too. “This is your cup.” “So?” She opened her mouth to respond, and he stretched across the seat to put a red candy between her lips. “Cherry.” Her lips pursed. “Cinnamon.” “Hate that too?” He could smell it in the air, on her breath. She’d taste spicy if he kissed her right now. She chewed and swallowed. “Give me the cup.” “One more.” He held up another red and she leaned out of his reach. He scooched to the middle of the bench seat and set the candy box in his lap. “It’s not lemon.” “It’s probably another—” she started to say and he raised the candy to her mouth. Her lashes flickered down as she glanced at his hand. He rubbed the jelly bean across her bottom lip. “Candy’s good for you. Gives you strong teeth and bones. Open up.” Her warm breath blew across his fingers. She slowly complied. He slid it past her teeth, resisting the urge to grab her by all that hair and drag her into his lap. “What flavor is it?” he asked. She bit down, licked her lips. “Cinnamon.” “Not a surprise, then,” he pointed out. “Does that work for you?” “I don’t hate it.” She finally raised her eyes to his. “Your turn.”
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“Goody.” He watched as she sorted through colors. Her head shadowed her actions, blocking the overhead light, until she produced a marbled brown one. “Perfect.” James eyed the candy dubiously. He didn’t trust Darcy’s wide smile. “Hold on a minute. Is that ass flavor or something?” “They don’t make ass flavor. Kids eat this stuff.” “Hot butt?” She snorted and picked up a green one too. “Let’s make this more exciting.” “By feeding me the green ones?” He waggled his eyebrows. “That’s my kind of excitement.” She crossed her eyes at him and popped the candies into his mouth. He made a show of being appalled as the flavors of coffee and something limey combined. “Ass flavor,” he confirmed. Darcy laughed. Her knees bumped his leg as she inspected the candy. “Now these two.” White and black. Coconut and licorice. James screwed up his face. “Ack.” Giggling, Darcy dug through the box. She shoved her glasses up her nose as the candies clacked together. Before she settled on more, James clicked out the cab light. “I can’t see,” she complained. “It’s safer for me that way.” He took a long swallow of iced tea. The sweetness washed away the licorice.
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“If that’s how you want to play it.” She waved a jelly bean in the neardark. Her fingers bumped his cheek. When she tried to put it in his mouth, he grabbed her hand. Did she want to play? “What are you feeding me this time?” “I have no idea,” she said. “They all look the same in the dark.” “That’s what she said,” James agreed. “You’re awful.” She tugged her hand loose and fumbled near his chin. He closed his lips over the jelly bean and—not at all accidentally—her finger. He clamped his teeth down lightly and sucked. She gasped, a quick inhale. He knew she was surprised, knew she said she didn’t like surprises, but she took her time freeing herself. She liked that. He grasped her wrist so she couldn’t get away. When she tugged, he didn’t release her, and she inhaled again. She liked that too. He licked her finger, tasting sugar and skin. “Darcy flavor,” he said. “My favorite.” Trembling, she touched his cheek. One fingertip was damp from his mouth. His stubble skritched as she ran her fingers along his jaw line. Her thumb rubbed his lips in a blatant caress. He angled his face into her hand and let his lips brush her palm in a kiss. “James, we shouldn’t.” “I disagree.” Amber light flashed on her lenses. He took her glasses off, giving her a chance to protest. She didn’t.
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He set the spectacles on the dash and groped for another piece of candy, which he held next to her mouth. She accepted it, closing her lips on his finger. The hot slickness of her tongue stroked him long enough to for him to get a hardon, which took about a millisecond. As he’d wanted to do for a while now, James threaded his fingers into her hair and made a fist. She was not getting away from him. Darcy whimpered. To hell with convincing her to make the first move. When he dragged her across the seat into his lap, jelly beans flew everywhere.
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Chapter Seven
Their lips met in a hard, hot kiss, their bodies in a tangle of arms and blanket. James had one hand in her hair, the other gripping her sweatshirt. Darcy parted her lips. When his tongue swept into her mouth, she practically clawed him as she tried to get closer. She’d barely been able to get the idea of kissing him out of her head long enough to describe her claustrophobia. With his touch, her desire returned threefold. When he grabbed her butt, nothing separating his skin from hers but her cotton underpants, her desire increased to tenfold. She slid her outside leg around his hips, bringing their bodies flush. He’d shown distinct signs of being unfazed by her claustrophobia. What if he could deal with it in its entirety? Wasn’t this worth the risk? Wasn’t he worth the risk? His cock strained against his jeans, pressing her intimately. Or it would if there weren’t an itchy polyester blanket wadded between them. “God, I want you so much,” he whispered. He pulled her hair, bending her back, and sucked her neck. His teeth scraped her skin. Darcy hung onto his shoulders, her spine arched. He squeezed her ass. His fingertips nearly reached her pussy, his hand was so big. She shoved her pelvis against him, stymied by the damned blanket. She wanted to feel more of him. All of him. James lowered his head and nuzzled her breast through the sweatshirt. With more pressure than she expected, he bit her nipple. Pleasure jolted through
Ellie Marvel
her, landing between her legs. Darcy inhaled, exhaled. This was going so fast she could barely breathe, but in a good way. A very, very good way. His grip on her hair loosened. Darcy straightened like a spring. She threw herself against him forcefully enough that he slammed into the steering wheel. The horn tooted. “Crap.” James struggled with her, with the blanket. He twisted them around somehow. Darcy found herself flying through the air and landing on her back. The top of her head conked the driver’s side door. “Ow!” Before she got her bearings, James was on top of her, his weight pushing her into the leather. His hips, his rough denim jeans, abraded her bare thighs. His cock was definitely hard, definitely in the right spot. Just like she’d fantasized. “You okay?” he asked. “Better than okay.” Darcy widened her thighs, her knees bent. “Is this going to crowd you too much?” She wasn’t thinking about that. She refused to think about that. So she kissed him. His lips brushed hers, this time not as frantic. The kisses turned sweet and wet as their tongues met. She whispered his name. He laughed and kissed her some more. And more. Soon kissing wasn’t enough. She maneuvered her arm past the steering wheel and down his back, feeling his muscles. He rolled his hips against her and she answered by slipping her hand under his shirt. His skin was warm and smooth. His muscles bunched as he slid one leg onto the floor. This pushed her outer thigh higher. Wider. It felt so tremendous
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to have him against her. Darcy undulated her hips and her knee banged the gear shaft. A horrible vision bounced through her head. With some effort she ended the kiss. “Have you got the parking break on?” “Why, do you think this is gonna get rowdy?” His teeth glinted in the dark. He slid a hand down her thigh, stopping at her panties. But just barely. “James,” she chided. She didn’t want to stop, but she didn’t want them to roll into another car. That wouldn’t be fun to explain to the other driver or the insurance company. He stretched an arm into the floor, feeling around. “We’re secure. Where were we?” “Here.” She tilted her head up and kissed him. Then she tightened her thighs around his hips. “And here.” James rubbed her leg, up and down, always stopping at the elastic of her underwear. She kissed him, willing him to touch her, but he didn’t. Her pussy clenched and she shifted restlessly beneath him. “So do you?” he asked. He traced the elastic of her underwear, in the sensitive crevice of her leg and her pelvis. Darcy tried to catch her breath. “Do I what?” He rubbed. Explored. Touched but didn’t touch. “Think this is going to get rowdy?” It was already crazy. What difference would rowdy make? “I hope so.” “That’s what I wanted to hear.” James cupped her privates, massaging. Darcy closed her eyes and gripped his shirt. When he slid a finger beneath the fabric into her damp heat, she groaned. “You’re wet, baby.” He plied her clit softly at first, then faster, until Darcy rolled her head to the side. Using two fingers he entered her pussy, not stopping
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until his knuckles bumped her body. Yet somehow he pushed deeper, letting his thumb ride her clit. Over and over. His fingers fucked her and then he was kissing her, echoing his movements with his tongue. God, he was good with his hands. Darcy couldn’t believe how fast he was going to get her off. She felt the incipient tingle in her groin and tightened her whole body to heighten it. That’s when James stopped. “Not so fast,” he murmured. Darcy whapped him in the chest. “Why the hell not?” “There’s something I want to do first.” He kissed her again and started working his way down her body. Her neck. Her collarbone. Over the shirt. When he started drawing the hem of her sweatshirt up her torso, Darcy wiggled out of it, breathing hard. He rose and stared at her chest in the shadowy darkness. One of his knees was braced between her thighs while the other was off the seat. He sighed and ran his hands down her arms. Darcy wished she’d worn prettier underpants and bra, but no, she had on her travel lingerie, a sexy mix of white cotton, elastic and sensible coverage. Clothing practicality had figured into a story and tip list she’d published in August. She never thought she’d see the day where following her own tips was cause for regret. Well, it was dark. “So what is it you wanted to do?” she asked. He grinned like a pubescent boy. “Get you naked.” Darcy blushed. She didn’t turn heads, but body issues were one neurosis she’d been miraculously spared. James had a rascally gleam in his eyes, visible even in this lighting. “If the next part involves cameras,” she threatened, “think again.”
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“I’ll use a mental camera.” He pretended to snap a picture before reaching out to measure her breasts in her dowdy eighteen hour bra. “Nice.” “Thanks. Now can we…” Darcy’s sentence ended in a squeal when James tweaked both her nipples at the same time. He leaned over and buried his face in her cleavage. His hot mouth opened against her skin as he pushed her breasts together, licking, kissing, rubbing his stubble across her. Suddenly he jerked up. His fingers probed the bottom of her right breast. “What the hell? Darcy, baby, this can’t be good. Do you know you’ve got a—” Darcy felt the hard lump of a jelly bean roll under James’s touch. “It’s a jelly bean,” she said, a little embarrassed. Two minutes ago she’d been a couple strokes away from an orgasm, and now James was finding candy in her bra. “I forgot it was there.” He slid her straps off her shoulders, tugging the cups down until her nipples and the jelly bean were freed. “Ahhhh.” He bent down and licked one nipple, then the other. The erotic wetness tightened the tips. She felt his big hands at her hips and raised herself so he could tug off her damp panties. Once they’d removed her bra, James let out a breath. He took her hands and kissed them. “I can’t believe how much finding a lump there scared me. It was like nearly falling off a cliff.” His concern touched her somewhere almost as deep as his fingers recently had, so she deflected it with a lame joke. “Why are you scared? I’m the one risking indecent exposure.” “Not a chance. You’re a very decent person.” “There are cars full of people all around us.”
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“Don’t worry. Nobody can see in. We can do whatever we want.” James touched the window above her. “We’re steamed up.” His observation brought home their situation in a way she’d been able to ignore when desire dominated her thoughts. Jesus, she was completely nude in the middle of the interstate. Ten feet from other people, families, kids. Was this even legal? She either needed James between her legs, driving her worries out of her head, or she needed to put her clothes on and die of humiliation. “James, maybe we shouldn’t.” He pressed a finger to her lips, a finger that smelled of her desire. “We should.” Darcy tasted his skin. Salty and spicy and musky and apparently a huge turn-on for him, because he thrust his finger into her mouth. She sucked it, watching his face. She wrapped her tongue around his finger the way she’d like to do to his cock and slid her lips up and down. Hot air from the vents puffed across her skin, and she became conscious of the fact moisture dampened her pussy and inner thighs. James withdrew his finger slowly, his expression rapt. He traced a line from the hollow of her throat straight down her bare body until he reached her pubic bone. She widened her thighs in encouragement. When he slid his finger between her folds, she found the front of his jeans and rubbed his hard length. James closed his eyes and tilted his head back. His strong, masculine jaw tensed as she concentrated her efforts on the head of his penis. It grew under her touch, and she still hadn’t gotten into his pants. “Take off your clothes,” she said.
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He quickly peeled off both his shirts at once. His well-defined torso gleamed in the glow from the dials. Darcy fondled his abs and felt her inhibitions sink right back down to where they’d been a couple minutes ago. She was ready, anxious even, for whatever he had in mind. He lowered his hands to his jeans and paused. “This isn’t going to work unless I take my boots off first.” “Hurry up,” she almost groaned. He unlaced the hiking boots and shimmied out of his jeans and boxers in what had to be record time. He hovered over her like he was doing push-ups, lowering himself to kiss her. His stiff cock brushed her pussy. Teased her, made her want him more, before he straightened his arms. He kissed her again, several times, always raising himself after a few seconds. Then he shifted down and nuzzled her breasts with a combination of rough whiskers and slick tongue. Darcy felt her hips jerk as sensation shot straight into her privates. He wasn’t delicate or cautious, sucking her hard, using his teeth, burning her with his stubble. His hands gripped her hair, holding her down. Raw pleasure melted her into his leather seat. When he moved lower, his breath wafting across her stomach, her pussy, she thought she might have a heart attack. He parted her labia and licked her clit sweetly, unlike the way he’d treated her breasts. Soft, slow laps. A gentle massage on her inner thighs, his hands creeping around to cradle her ass. The wet noises of his tongue and mouth against her flesh, his murmurs, his sexy encouragement, filled the truck’s cab. Darcy felt herself start to fly again. The velvety suction. The strokes and teases. She’d thought he was good with his hands, but his mouth put them to shame. But it was too polite, too slow. “I want you inside me when I come,” she said, panting.
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“What part of me?” “I don’t care.” She rolled her head from side to side. “Hard, James. I want it hard.” He responded by ramming two fingers inside her and increasing the suction on her throbbing pussy. In thirty seconds she knew she was going through the roof. “Don’t stop,” she begged. She squeezed her inner muscles, squeezed her fists, squeezed her eyes shut. “Come on, baby.” He sucked harder, caught her clit in his mouth. Darcy convulsed, ripples blasting through her like shockwaves. He kept licking, fast and strong, as she spasmed around his fingers. When she was finished, he sheathed himself in a condom. He crawled up her body and positioned himself. “Can you do that again?” he asked, his words blistering her neck. “Try me.” She wound her arms around him and urged him forward. His cock was infinitely larger than his fingers. He eased himself inside her still-quivering pussy, stretching her satisfaction deeper. She raised her knees high, though she couldn’t put her legs over his shoulders like she wanted. The steering wheel was in the way. “This is…” James rolled inside her, slow as molasses. “This is the best.” “Best?” “Best. Christmas. Ever.” He punctuated each word with a thrust. “Mmm.” Darcy caressed his back, enjoying the texture of his skin, the muscles bunching in his ass as he pushed in and out of her. Lassitude from the orgasm began to give way to excitement as his big cock worked her.
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“I’m going to make you come again.” He fisted his hand in her hair, yanking her head sideways. The tug on her scalp burned, but she liked it. She wanted more. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby.” James drew himself almost all the way out and rammed into her, thunking her head against the driver’s door. “Do it.” She slapped his butt with both hands, digging in. He heaved and sweated. Thunk. Thunk. She barely felt it. James pounded into her pussy, his balls smacking her ass. “It’s been so long.” He drove her relentlessly; her desire rose like a flood. He secured her hair firmly enough that her head quit hitting the door. It hurt. It felt too good. “I haven’t dated anyone since I started working for you.” She closed her eyes, swimming in pleasure and pain and lust. Something unnamable swept her along. “What are…?” She could barely form words. “What are you saying?” His cock seemed to swell. “I don’t want anyone else.” She started to tremble, awash, bobbing. She needed to look him in the face and see if this was a line, but he growled when she tried to roll her head. “Tell me you want me, Darcy. Nobody but me.” He slithered his arm under one of her thighs and somehow got her leg over his shoulder. Darcy groaned when his next thrust went so deep it hurt. “Yes.” “Can you take this?” He slowed his pace, dragging his cock out of her body before slamming back in. The new angle parted her ass cheeks and stretched her like a rubber band. “I’m not sure.” Could she take this? He was apparently made of steel with stamina to match. Her thighs started to shiver. “I’m not a gymnast.”
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“You just need more encouragement.” He released her hair, slid his arm along the back of the seat, and raised his upper body. He did something else shifty with his legs, she couldn’t see what, and started fucking her again. “I want to feel you come.” He took her hands and put them on her breasts, guiding her fingers to her nipples. She arched into his thrusts. He slapped her thigh, flesh against flesh doubly loud every time he drove himself home. “You’re close, aren’t you? You’re getting tight.” “God, yes. Faster.” He increased his pace. His hair fell over his forehead. Perspiration glinted on his arms. “Touch yourself, Darcy. Touch your breasts like I did.” She pinched her nipples because she wanted more sensation, more pain and pleasure coursing through her. She couldn’t get enough. If she could have had him pounding into her pussy and her mouth and her ass all at the same time, she’d have begged for it, but he only had one cock. James stilled his hips while he was mostly outside her body. Darcy whimpered. “You’re gonna like this.” He rubbed her clit with his dick, stimulating her, moistening her. After she was slick with her own juices, he pinched her bud. He slowly pushed back into her pussy while rubbing her clit at the same time. Intense pleasure blossomed. Darcy’s eyelids fluttered as the world went even darker than it already was. Was this what it was like for your eyes to roll back in your head? When he’d filled her all the way, he began to drive into her body in deep, short increments, shoving her into the seat. Darcy felt insane with craving. Soon she was pleading with him to go faster as she felt another orgasm snaking up her spine.
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His powerful thrusts shook the truck and she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but James inside her, James here with her. When she moaned, he plucked her clit like a guitar string. He pounded into her, fucking her with a wild passion she’d never experienced. Darcy cried out when she came this time, her muscles melting like wax. He slowed his hips, staying put as she throbbed around him. When she was done, he kissed her and said something in her neck she couldn’t quite hear. “Now you.” She pulled him into her with her heels. “I can make you come again,” he said, his eyes gleaming. She smiled. “Next time.” Something like a revelation flashed across his face, barely discernable in the dark, and he lowered himself onto her. His cock twitched. James kissed her lightly, but she grabbed his hair and held him in place, like he’d held her. They kissed slow and easy, and James rocked. She sighed with pleasure at the feel of him. He moved inside her steady and sure. Not just his cock but their bodies slid together, touching everywhere. This was different. She couldn’t stop kissing him. His chest rubbed her nipples, his thighs rubbed her thighs. Even though she’d thought two climaxes was her limit, pleasure began to swirl inside her until she was drowning in it. James increased his pace. Her head banged into the door again, maybe his, but she was floating in orgasm ocean and couldn’t tell. He slid in and out in long strokes, faster and faster. Banging. Knocking. The truck rocking. The seat squeaking beneath her. Darcy held onto him and went with it. She moaned and cried, letting him know in no uncertain terms he was hitting the right spots. Another orgasm rippled through her unexpectedly, taking her all the way up and back down. Lights burst around them. She felt like hot butter, dripping and delicious.
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After several more thrusts, several knocks against the door, James gritted his teeth, not quite suppressing a groan. His cock swelled right before it pulsed. “Darcy. God. This is so…” He shuddered and panted as he came. Knock knock knock. Darcy could barely keep her eyes open. Why could she still hear knocking? James wasn’t moving his hips; he was flattened on her like a blanket. And what was with the lights? Knock knock knock. “Everything okay in there?” called a loud voice.
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“Shit!” James cursed, leaping off Darcy as he groped for the blanket. He shoved it at her and stared around the cab frantically, looking for his clothes. “I can’t believe this.” Darcy struggled to sit up and cover herself, spitting hair out of her mouth. A beam of light illuminated the steam on the windows. “Can we get in trouble?” “Darce, it’s okay.” James kept his voice low. He didn’t want to panic her. Giving up on his pants, he jammed his arms into his parka. He lifted Darcy bodily across him and slid to the driver’s side where the voice’s owner could be seen, an anonymous shadow beyond the foggy glass. “What’s he gonna do, make a citizen’s arrest?” “Where’s my shirt? My glasses? Where are my panties? Oh my God.” She dove over the front seat into the back, thumping and bitching. Their regrettable Good Samaritan tapped the window with the flashlight. He’d better not break the glass. “Is somebody hurt in there? You need help? My friend here’s a doctor.” “I’m opening the window,” James warned Darcy. She let out a muffled, squeaky curse. He hit the window switch and allowed the glass to slide down a few inches. “Son, what’s going on in there?” A large, grizzled man glowered at James through the crack. Two more hovered behind him, all three suited up against the snow.
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“Nothing.” James smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring instead of pissed. He hadn’t been ready to dismount. Talk about a mood killer. Not only was it unromantic, but the condom could have whipped free and splatted everywhere. That would really have put a damper on the afterglow. “Didn’t sound like nothing,” the man said. The flashlight glared straight into James’s eyes. He squinted. “That’s a bit bright, don’t you think?” “It’s dark out here.” But he did direct the beam toward the ground. James hoped they didn’t ask him to get out of the car. His parka was warm, but it barely covered his nuts. “Which one of you is the doctor?” he asked. If somebody went into labor in the traffic jam, the location of a doctor would be good to know. “Why, you need one?” The man tried to see over the glass, so James leaned closer to the window to block him. “Actually I’m a vet,” the man on the right said. He had a flashlight too, which he was using to inspect the truck bed. “I can still help.” “Exercises,” Darcy hissed at him. “Car yoga. September issue.” Good call, Darce. She might not like surprises, but she was better on the spot than she realized. “I was stretching my legs.” That story had been one of her comical ones. “It’s called car, uh…” What was that term she’d used? “Car calisthenics. We’ve been sitting here a long time.” “I don’t know. Sounded like you were murdering a cat,” the vet said. “I know what cats in pain sound like, buddy.” He peered over his friend’s shoulder into the cab for evidence of evil-doing. Or a yoga mat. “They think I’m a cat?” Darcy squeaked.
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James nearly choked. This shouldn’t be funny. Darcy didn’t sound like she thought it was funny. He absolutely couldn’t laugh. “Somebody in there with ya?” the first man said. He angled the light so it fell on a few articles of discarded clothing on the passenger’s side. “My wife,” James answered. “She’s napping in the back seat.” “She can sleep through that racket?” “She can sleep through a fire alarm.” “How about you roll down this window so we can be sure your wife is okay?” the man suggested. “Not all men know how to treat a woman.” “You think I was hurting her?” James asked, aghast. “Fellas, you’re really misreading the situation. This is nothing to concern you.” “Don’t tell us it was nothing, son.” The door handle creaked, and James was very glad he’d locked it. “We heard the screams.” In the rear-view mirror, he saw Darcy wave a bare arm above the seat. “I’m okay. I’m not a cat.” The men behind Grizzly Adams exchanged a glance. “Thought she was asleep.” “Guess you woke her up.” “Were you playing violin music? Maybe some of that techno?” the first man asked. “Your car was shaking. You sure your wife’s okay? Maybe you need to step out of the vehicle.” James pinched the bridge of his nose. What was it going to take to get these guys off his and Darcy’s case? “I’m not getting out of my damn truck.” “We don’t want any trouble, son.” The man cracked his knuckles, obviously intending to follow his statement with some trouble. “Hellfire.” Darcy popped up beside James, leaning over the seat to address the men. The blanket was wrapped around her torso, but her shoulders
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were bare. “Have you never heard the saying, if the truck’s a rocking, don’t come a knocking?” she asked, her Southern accent thickening in her annoyance. The man frowned. “So you’re all right? He ain’t hurting you?” “Yes, I’m all right. We were having sex. Thank you for your concern, but we don’t need any help to have sex.” The men gaped at Darcy a minute before the one in front raised his hands in a classic placating gesture. “Sorry, ma’am. We thought—” “That I sounded like a dying cat,” she said. “I know. Thank you for that. I’ll never live it down.” “You can’t blame us for worrying,” the man argued. “People gotta look out for each other at times like this.” “Come on, boys. Some people got no couth.” The third man stalked off into the blizzard. Their flashlights glinted on cars and snow as they tromped into the night. Darcy sank into the back seat. James watched in the rear view mirror as her shadowy form pushed at her hair. “I can’t believe complete strangers would knock on somebody’s vehicle door and ask if somebody was killing a cat.” James didn’t trust himself to do anything but sympathize nonverbally. He passed her glasses to her and nodded. “I don’t sound anything like a cat. I mean, I was enjoying myself, and maybe the truck wobbled, but I wasn’t screaming like a violin.” She polished her lenses on the blanket before sliding them on. “There’s something wrong with their ears. They probably heard the wind.” James shook his head no, but his throat was as tight as a…violin string, trying to keep from laughing. “I’m not even that loud.”
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She’d been pretty loud. And it had been extremely sexy. She could scream in his ear anytime she wanted. “This is humiliating. I knew this was a bad idea. I’ve never been so embarrassed.” He almost nodded yes, thought better of it, and shook his head no. This hadn’t been a bad idea, just sloppily executed. She paused mid-rant. “You aren’t embarrassed?” “That we had sex? Hell no. That was awesome.” “But those men.” “Who cares about those men, Darcy?” James cleaned himself up and located his drawers. She whumped against the seat back. “I guess I do.” “Why?” “I don’t know. It’s not like I’ll ever see them again, right? Except when I walk back to my car.” She started rustling around, bundling herself into her clothes. “Oh, this bites ass.” “It’s okay, honey. I’ll walk you back when the time comes. Nobody will say a word.” He finished dressing and contemplated his boots. Sock feet were a lot more comfortable. She flapped her hand. “Not that. I have to pee and I can’t find my underpants.” “That does bite.” Crap, he had to pee too. He sighed and put on the heavy, damp boots. “Any suggestions?” She slithered into the front seat, her shirt and pants intact. “Don’t worry about peeing, either. You’ll never see any of these people again.” James corrected himself. “Except me.”
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“Well, I hope so.” She laughed. “I guess that means you still respect me.” “It’s not morning yet,” he teased. “Hey, would this be a good time to ask if you want to take a long weekend in February to go to Colorado with me? I have to let them know if I’m bringing a plus one on my assignment.” “Colorado? Oh dear.” Her eyes were two pools of shadow in the darkened cab. But there was enough light to see her lips twist downward. “Come on, you know you’re not my only client.” “It’s not that.” She sighed. “I think we need to talk.” He didn’t like the sound of that, and told her so. “When I get back, we need to talk,” she repeated. “I have to be sure you understand something.” He knew that look. She was going to break up with him. After one fuck? Jesus. He hadn’t been that bad. She’d certainly enjoyed herself. If there was something he hadn’t done the way she wanted it done, it wasn’t a dumping offense yet. He didn’t say anything as she shoved her feet in her shoes, vaulted out of the truck, did her business, and made it back into the cab in less time than he figured it was going to take him to do the same thing. Where he’d parked, the guard rail was far enough away to give all the urinators clearance. He went next, glad nobody around them had their headlights on. The wind buffeted him and stray snowflakes pinked his face like needles, but the precipitation was letting up. “Your gas is down to third of a tank,” Darcy informed him after he relocked the doors. “I have more in back.” She rubbed her hands together and blew on them. “I’m never ignoring the Weather Channel again.”
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She rambled on about nothing, crammed against the passenger door like she’d developed an allergy to him in the past ten minutes, while James waited for the bomb to drop. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. “You said we needed to talk about something, Darce. Out with it.” “Ugh.” She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. He noticed she had one hand stuck out the crack in the window, her fingers dancing in the cold. “I don’t quite know how to say this.” “Generally people say, ‘It’s not you, baby, it’s me.’” James flicked a jelly bean into the floor. Darcy’s head jerked around. “That’s not… Actually, it is. It is me. It’s always me.” She flung herself forward and groaned. “What do you mean?” “James, my claustrophobia…” She straightened, rubbing her eyes. “Do you understand what it means that I have claustrophobia?” “Yeah,” he said, but by the tone of her voice he realized he was missing something, as suspected. Nothing was ever easy, was it? “I don’t think you’re nuts. I told you that already.” “I don’t go on airplanes.” “You don’t?” James paused to let that sink in. “How do you go overseas?” “I don’t.” He flicked on the cabin lights so he could see her expression. He didn’t know if her cheeks were red because she’d been whipped by a blizzard or because she was embarrassed. “Do you go on cruise ships?” “I, uh, tried once. Out of Galveston. The cabins and hallways set me off. There’s only so many drugs a girl can take.” “Europe?” “Never been there.”
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“Alaska?” “That car trip is way more than I can handle.” “Well, where have you been?” The woman recommended all sorts of locations in her newsletters. She was a jet-setter. A world traveler. She made a living doing that very thing and telling people about it. How could she not have been any of those places? “I don’t want to tell you.” “You haven’t been anywhere.” “I go to Galveston once a year.” “That’s in Texas,” James said. “You live in Texas.” “Texas is a big state.” She crossed her arms. “Did you know there are four distinct geographical regions in Texas? Not counting geographical regions that extend into Texas. You can cover a lot of ground without driving more than a few hours.” “You’re a damn liar,” he realized. “Those stories you write are fabrications.” “I never pretended the stories were anything but fiction,” she said. “It’s called creative writing. The one in September had time travel in it. That’s not real, you know.” “That’s not what I mean. You write like you’re the one who did those things. Visited those places.” “No, I don’t. I print a disclaimer with every story and a bibliography whenever needed. Before I started this, I consulted a lawyer about using sources besides my own experience. Fiction writers have to use their imaginations.” Her voice had risen with every defensive statement. “Darcy, you’re quibbling. You’re not a writer, you’re a travel agent.”
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She shook a finger at him. “I am too a writer, and I have never ever outand-out lied about this to anybody. If people make assumptions because I happen to know a lot about travel, which I can research any way I please, that’s—” “Dishonest,” he interrupted. Had she ever out-and-out lied? He’d have to go back over old emails and newsletters. He’d have to think about this and how it changed things—like his expectations. His feelings. Darcy’s mouth opened and closed before she buried her face in her hands. “Oh God. I was completely wrong. You didn’t realize.” She let out something that might have been a cough and might have been a sob. James suddenly wondered if he was being an ass. At the same time, he couldn’t deny how betrayed he felt. Darcy was not at all who he thought she was. She choked out another noise—definitely a sob—so James said, “I didn’t realize what?” “The implications.” She released a shuddering sigh. “You have every right to hate me. I should never have let things go this far.” She let things go this far? He was the one who’d shown up at her office unannounced. Who’d shown up at her car unannounced. Who’d put the moves on her. He knew now surprising her had been a mistake, but it didn’t change what had happened. What did it change? He wasn’t sure yet. But one thing he knew. “I don’t hate you.” “I hate myself sometimes. I can’t go where I want. I can’t see what I want. And I pretend to be somebody I’m not.” He shoved a hand into his hair. “You don’t have to hate yourself because you’re a liar. You just have to quit lying.”
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“I’m not a liar!” she yelled. James opened his mouth to respond, but a foghorn sounded behind them as a police car leading a large construction vehicle trundled along the shoulder, headlamps bursting through the gloom. They watched the truck forge past to the presumed trouble spot on the bridge ahead. After the tail lights disappeared, Darcy said in a low voice, “I’m going back to my car.” “It’ll take them a while to get us moving.” He didn’t want to leave things between them so unsettled and intense. “I don’t care.” “So you’re just going to go?” When she didn’t answer, James’s stomach knotted up like brambles. He wanted easy, but this wasn’t easy. This was hard as shit. He’d had this fantasy of Darcy, why she was perfect for him. She’d understand he had to travel and—key factor—she’d go with him sometimes. He wouldn’t be so alone, spinning his wheels as the road passed beneath his tires. He wanted a partnership like that, two people with common interests and compatible lifestyles. He couldn’t have that with her. She wasn’t going with him to the Bahamas, she wasn’t going skiing in February… Hell, she wasn’t even going to Arizona. Most of the women he’d dated were willing to travel once or twice a year when they had vacation days, but they didn’t want to be with him if he was going to travel all the time. They wanted him home, in the nest, and that would drive him insane. Darcy would be the exact same way as those women, whether she wanted to be or not. Neither of them could be happy in that kind of relationship, and still he couldn’t let her go. They were not through here. Not by a long shot. “Stay until the traffic breaks,” he said. “We need to talk about this.”
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“What’s to discuss? You think I’m a liar, and I think I’ve been here long enough.” He didn’t know if she meant in the enclosed space of his truck or with him. “If you insist on going, I’ll walk with you.” “No thank you.” She started rustling around, locating the jelly bean box, which she shoved under her arm. “Sorry about the candy all over your truck.” “Don’t worry about it.” He made her put on his knit cap, tucking her hair under it even though she batted at his hands. When he started zipping her jacket, she grabbed his forearm and shook him. “I’m not an invalid. Cut it out.” “I know.” But it was really cold out there. The snow had let up and he could see stars. Temperatures would drop without cloud cover. He didn’t want her to get chilled, get sick, ruin her holidays. “Take my gloves.” She lowered her chin, her eyes flashing in the shadowy cab. “Fine, but that’s it. Quit fussing over me.” After she slid out the passenger door and slammed it, James rolled up the window she’d kept cracked and switched off his truck. By the time he locked up, she was two cars away. He caught up and stayed right beside her, alert for any hint she might slip and fall. She was stomping in the ice and snow pretty hard, after all. She was upset and frustrated. They both had a right to be, he supposed, but he sure as hell felt like his right was bigger than hers. Wasn’t it? In response to the police going past, most of the cars had turned on their headlights as drivers readied themselves to navigate the treacherous roads. James could see Darcy’s pretty face, her cold, pink cheeks, her pout—and the suspicious glitter in her big, dark eyes.
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Damn, was she crying? He wanted to hold her and tell her it would be all right. She’d find somebody else. Somebody who liked to stay home with his family and visit Galveston once a year. Whoever it was, James kind of wanted to kill him, but Darcy had so much to offer. She didn’t deserve to be alone. He watched her tug his hat further over her ears and remembered how soft her hair had been when he’d buried his hands in it. She’d loved that, loved his body inside hers, loved—had she loved him? Did he love her? It wasn’t that she was a rotten person. She said she’d talked to a lawyer about it and she clearly satisfied her customers because her business was thriving. Her lack of actual travel experience didn’t seem to matter there. Her revelation made her no less sexy, no less funny, no less Darcy, but they could never have the relationship he’d built in his head. The relationship he needed. He was done with flings and disappointment. He was done hurting women’s feelings when they realized he wouldn’t change. He wanted one woman who understood him, one woman to talk to, one woman to share his life. So where did this leave him and Darcy?
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Chapter Nine
How could she have let this happen? Darcy twitched away from James again when he caught her before she could bust her butt on the icy interstate. She’d rather land on her ass in the snow than admit she needed his help. Even filled with insufferable self-righteousness, he was considerate and protective. Too bad he hadn’t thought about protecting her from his damned obtuse self. By the time they reached her car, Darcy couldn’t feel her feet. Her sneakers were solidly refrozen, as well as the ankles of her sweatpants. At least the snow had stopped spitting into her face and glasses. “I can take it from here,” she told James over the rumble and purr of motors all around them. Car horns tooted in the distance, presumably as the wagon train from snowy hell got underway at the bridge. “I’ll stay with you until the traffic breaks.” He started around to the passenger door. She seized the sleeve of his parka, her hands clumsy but warm in his giant gloves. “No, you won’t. You’re going.” “Darcy, I’m not leaving you until I know you’ll be okay.” He waved at the front of the car. “Make sure your engine starts.” A shiver raced through her at the thought that it might not, that she might be stuck on the side of the road. But she wouldn’t be. James would take care of her—poor, invalid, pathological liar that he thought she was.
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She’d never set out to betray him or anyone. Why was he acting as if her life choices were some personal affront to him? There was no law stating travel agents were required to jet set, and she’d told him about the claustrophobia before she’d slept with him. Not that it was any of his business. She’d been reticent about it for so long, finding workarounds and ways to avoid inconveniencing others, that her privacy was second nature. After fumbling with the keychain and the thick gloves, Darcy unlocked the door and slipped into the seat, her feet and legs outside the car. She brushed off some snow and ice before she swung the rest of herself into the cold interior. She’d been gone long enough that her windows were caked with snow. She took off a glove so she could handle the key. The car turned over unsuccessfully a few times, causing Darcy’s heart to stutter, but finally caught. James had moved into the vee between the open door and the car. She stared up at him. “See? My car runs like a top. You can go now.” He didn’t go. “This isn’t finished.” “You made it pretty clear that it was.” She’d have to hire another photographer or return to stock photos, but whatever. Things happened. She blinked fast and sniffed hard so the tears that threatened would dry up. “No, I made it clear I was…surprised by what you told me tonight.” She couldn’t see his features, but she didn’t have to see them to read him like a glossy brochure. His voice projected his regret for the direction their relationship had taken. Hell, maybe he regretted ever knowing her. “Surprised?” She cranked the defrost, though it wouldn’t impact the ice crust until the car warmed up. Right now it felt like it was five degrees. Her head—in James’s hat—was the only part of her that was warm, but she was getting personally affronted enough to keep from shivering. “It’s not like I’m a
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crook or a murderer. What the hell kind of person did you think I was? Somebody with no flaws? Sorry to be human, James.” “I didn’t think you were perfect.” He blew on his hands. “We need to talk through this.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” Darcy popped open the glove box and found the ice scraper. “You think I’m horrible, I think you’re a prick, end of story.” He froze, probably literally. It was too cold for man or beast, which covered both his personalities. “A prick?” “That’s right. A prick.” She jumped out of the car, her feet like lead, and slammed the door so the interior could heat up. James stood awkwardly beside her rear view mirror, like he couldn’t believe she didn’t want him to handle her iced-over windshield. Like he couldn’t believe she could possibly be mad at or disappointed in him. “But, Darcy…” he began. With her gloved hand, Darcy attacked the windshield with all the dismay and frustration she was feeling right now. The blade snagged on a large, solid clump and popped out of her grip. James reached for it at the same time she did, but she got it first and slapped it at him like a weapon. “I don’t need a man to scrape my windshield.” “I know you don’t.” He put his hands on her shoulders and swiveled her to face him. She doubted the ice scraper, propelled by her puny strength, could cut through his parka, so she didn’t bother stabbing him in the heart. “But I could do it faster and easier. For one, I’ve got longer arms.” “So what? I’ll manage. I’m not feeble, I just don’t like small spaces.” “But I want to help you, Darcy. I want to do something for you.”
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Darcy closed her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood for his guilt or his paternalism or whatever the hell this was. This was his decision. She’d been willing to date him when his initial response to her confession convinced her he’d be accepting. She’d been willing to fall the rest of the way in love with him and let herself believe she’d finally found the right person. “If you want to do something for me,” she told him, opening her eyes to see his reaction, “how about understanding?” “Understanding?” he said, clearly failing to. “Understand that I’m different from you. Understand that I’ve made the choices I have for good reasons and that I haven’t set out to deceive anyone. I didn’t tell you before because I don’t tell anyone if I can help it. If it doesn’t affect somebody, it’s none of their business; that’s the way I see it. But I don’t start relationships without telling my partner.” Her voice fractured, and she hated how broken she sounded. How crushed she was that he couldn’t accept her and had, moreover, condemned her. “I never led you on.” “I know.” “And I told you. I told you everything. I hoped we could—” Her throat closed. She couldn’t tell him how much she wanted him. “I hoped we could too, but I can’t be the man you need.” “How can you say that when you haven’t even tried?” “I can’t fall in love with a woman who wants to stay in one place.” He kissed her softly, his lips as cold as his heart, and stepped back. “It’s a road to disaster.” “It’s not that I want to stay in one place,” she said. “I have to.” “Do you have to?” he asked. “Have you even tried?”
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That cinched it. James was as ignorant as every other boyfriend she’d ever had. Luis had come close, but in the end, she’d had one panic attack too many for his comfort. All those bastards thought she’d been too much trouble, too eccentric, too hard. Every time, she wanted to shout, “Come on, idiots! I’m claustrophobic, I’m not a damn serial killer!” but she didn’t. She just said good riddance. She didn’t want to get rid of James, but she’d been right about him. She should have listened to her own common sense—it couldn’t work between an inveterate traveler and a stay-at-home dreamer. She shouldn’t have let her libido and his sweet, lazy smile convince her otherwise. In a spurt of rage, Darcy threw the gloves at James as hard as she could. He flinched when one bounced off his face. “Fuck you, James Jones. Claustrophobia’s not some passing ailment I can shrug off because I meet somebody who makes me want to…want to…” “Want to what?” “I don’t know.” What she wanted was somebody to love, who loved her the way she was. “I want to see everything. It’s why I’m a travel agent. Since I can’t go, this is the next best thing. And I write about it so it’s more real to me and hopefully real to my subscribers. But you make me—” He shoved his hands into his gloves, his movements jerky. “I don’t make you do anything.” “Yes, you do. You make me wish I wasn’t myself.” They stared at each other for a long, painful moment, the cold icing her breath. “But I am,” she decided. “I am this person, and I won’t apologize for that.”
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“You shouldn’t have to.” His jaw worked. “I hope you find the right guy. He’s one lucky bastard.” “While you’re just a bastard. Goodbye, James.” With frozen fingers, she scrabbled at the latch, got in the car, and slammed the door in his face.
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Chapter Ten
“What am I supposed to do with the sweater I bought Darcy?” James’s mother complained on Christmas morning. “When you told me you were going to fetch her in Texas, I ran right out to make sure she’d have a gift under the tree. I paid fifty bucks for it over at the mall and nobody else is small enough to fit it.” “Especially not my wife.” Sal’s husband Tod laughed and elbowed James where they sat together on the couch. “I think she’s gonna have twins this time. I am the man.” “I’m not that big yet.” Sal glanced up from the floor where she sat with her son, pushing wooden trains around the track Santa had left. “I can still wear my normal clothes.” “Do you want to take the gift to her?” Mother asked James. “I’m sure if you take this nice sweater with an apology, she’ll change her mind. You must have done something to her.” Oh, he’d done something to Darcy, all right, and he hadn’t been able to quit thinking about it for two days. James closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and wished all the nieces and nephews would leave the room so he could utter a few choice curse words. That wasn’t about to happen. The kids were neck deep in new toys and candy, racing around the great room like monkeys on speed. In fact, Nita’s fouryear-old daughter Constance was currently sitting on his feet and rocking into his shins. She liked to bump. She’d knocked the back off one of Nita’s armchairs from thumping it so much.
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“Going over there is not a good idea,” James said. Darcy’s brothers were small but scrappy. If they had any inkling what he’d done to their sister, he’d be mincemeat, and not the tasty holiday pie kind of mincemeat. “Leave Jamie alone, Mother.” Nita sat down on his other side, a half-eaten peppermint stick in her hand, and waved it at their mother like a magic wand. “It’s Christmas. Begone, evil spirits.” “He must have done something,” Mother repeated. “It’s always the man.” “It ain’t neither,” Tod argued. “Women’s as much trouble as a flat football in a playoff game.” Nita bit the peppermint like she wanted to bite off their mother’s head. Or maybe Tod’s. Their sister’s husband was nobody’s favorite, though he’d improved the past year or so. “It’s not Jamie’s fault.” James squeezed the bridge of his nose, wishing his headache would disappear. “It’s okay, Mother. Darcy doesn’t need many sweaters in Texas.” “Everybody needs a sweater when it snows. If the electric goes out like in ’97, we’ll all need sweaters. We’ll need long johns and sweaters.” Mother frowned. “We should stock up on bread and milk.” “There’s not going to be an ice storm.” Nita leaned against James’s arm and licked the peppermint. “Tomorrow it’s supposed to be sunny.” “Darcy might need the sweater if she didn’t bring anything warm home,” Mother said, as if Nita hadn’t spoken. “I’m sure she’s properly outfitted.” James bounced Constance on his feet, a mini-version of horsie. “The snow we got last night already melted.” Mother shook her head, her coiffed grey hair not moving an inch. “I’m just so disappointed.” “That it isn’t going to snow more?” James asked.
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“No, that you ruined things with Darcy Burkell. She’s a nice girl. Very responsible, even if she does live in Texas. I thought this meant you were finally going to settle down.” “So you’ve mentioned.” James rubbed his forehead. “About a hundred times.” Mother lowered the screen of the laptop she was using to edit the holiday photos. “Don’t you get smart with me, James Jones. You’ve been showing the signs. Did you think your own mother wouldn’t notice?” “Signs of what, ageing?” He’d noticed grey at his temples this year. Was that what she meant? “Your biological clock,” Mother said. “Men don’t have biological clocks.” He started alternating his foot lifts, jouncing Constance from one side to another. She giggled. “Your wild oats are gone. I know the signs.” “No way. I’m full of oats.” He made a noise like a horse and galloped his feet. “Right, Constance?” “Yes!” Constance was a very agreeable child. “Uncle Jamie is full of oats.” “Uncle Jamie’s full of something,” Sal said. “Seriously, Jamie, Darcy Burkell? Those Burkells can’t make up their minds about anything. Her brother Chip? He already quit his job at the bank that he only had for four months and says he’s going back to school to be a history professor. There isn’t even a college in Tallwood. What is he thinking? His wife is at her wit’s end. She’s pregnant too, you know. She and I are doing prenatal aerobics together at the Y and she told me all about it.” Sal had been head cheerleader in high school and was now an event planner. She knew everything about everybody and never hesitated to share that information. James didn’t think he’d tell her the details about his encounter with
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Darcy, but he’d told Nita an edited version, and she’d told him he was an asshole. First a prick, now an asshole. He was a regular conglomeration of genitalia. And he was beginning to suspect the ladies were right. Darcy wasn’t a liar. Her newsletters had footnotes and sources and references and legal mumbo jumbo, exactly like she said. He maybe might have read a few newsletters yesterday, especially the one with the sex in it. Had she been thinking about him when she’d written it? Well, she wouldn’t be thinking about him in terms that friendly now. He never should have said such harsh things to her. He’d questioned her integrity and her ability to do her job without listening to what she was saying. He’d been too wrapped up in his disappointment because she wasn’t exactly what he wanted her to be. He hadn’t accepted the truth of who she was, and he’d rejected her for being herself. Yeah, he was an asshole. And even knowing she was rightly pissed, he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d driven by the Burkell’s house on the way to the store for Mother yesterday, to make sure Darcy had gotten home safe after the traffic jam. It was only a few streets away from the Piggly Wiggly. Her tan Buick had been parked in the driveway, grey slush mottling the sides from the salted roads. He hadn’t stopped. Constance’s weight vacated his feet. She popped up, shoving her face into James’s. “Did you see, Uncle Jamie? Santa ate the cookies.” “Did he drink the beer?” They couldn’t leave milk out anymore after what had happened with the lactose intolerant poodle three years ago. “Yes! Every drop. He was thirsty.”
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“From the looks of my empty beer cooler, he was real thirsty,” Tod said with a chortle. “Go ask Grandpa if he’s ordered the pizza yet,” Nita told her daughter. Constance waded through the detritus of the gift opening session and left the room. Nita, Sal and Mother started arguing about how much in the wrong James was in regards to Darcy, with Tod interjecting the occasional off-color comment. James tuned everything out. The kids, the arguing, the sounds of the season. The booze and cookies last night hadn’t been a great combo, but after a few more of Tod’s cheap beers, he hadn’t cared. He’d volunteered to put together Constance’s Barbie ski lodge, so he’d been alone in the great room, the only one awake in the silent, sleeping house. No jingle on the roof, no reindeer paws, no…Christmas joy. No Darcy. He’d stared out the front bay window, watching the Christmas lights reflect off the smattering of snow Tallwood had gotten, and all he’d wanted was to be watching it with Darcy. He missed her. It had been two days, barely, and he missed her. One thing he was sure of, missing her this much wouldn’t be conducive to a successful relationship. He’d always be traveling, always without her. He’d always be missing her. If he couldn’t enjoy himself away from her, how could he escape the feeling that all his travel back and forth was wasted time? But the real question was, could he stop missing her now that he’d started? James’s father, tall and wiry, appeared in the doorway. “What’s everyone want on their pizza?”
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Everyone shouted out favorite toppings. James couldn’t hear himself think his self-pitying thoughts. “Carl, I already made a list and put it beside the phone. Didn’t you see it?” Mother set the laptop aside and followed her husband out of the room. In fact, everyone but Nita followed, still yelling pepperoni or cheese or ham—or boogers, dog poop and worms in the case of Sal’s boys. “So.” Nita crumpled the peppermint wrapper. “When are you going over there?” James stared at his clasped hands, at the cut where he’d nicked himself last night during his inebriated construction efforts. “Over where?” “Don’t be an idiot,” she said. “It’s totally your fault. You owe Darcy a giant, groveling apology.” James raised his eyebrows. “You told Mother it wasn’t my fault.” “I lied.” She licked pink candy stain from her fingers. “It’s your fault.” “I know.” So this is what it was to be emo. “That still doesn’t mean it can work out between us. She’s not going to travel with me, Nita. We’ll be apart most of the time. What kind of relationship is that?” “The kind that suits a travel photographer. You’ve been apart six months and it hasn’t stopped you from falling for her.” “That was before,” he said darkly. He hadn’t actually told Nita he and Darcy had had sex because he didn’t want to hear it. She bumped him with her shoulder, unaware he’d been a bigger asshole than she realized. “My advice, my brother, is to go before the pizza gets here. Who wants to eat pizza with dog poop on it?” “The boys do,” James said. “I heard ’em say so.” “When Darcy asks if you’ve eaten, you can say no and get invited to dinner. Clever, right?”
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“She won’t ask if I’ve eaten. She won’t even invite me in the house.” “She’s a Tallwood girl. She’ll ask. As upset as you say she was, it means she cares for you a great deal, Jamie.” “She told me to fuck off.” Nita’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t lose your temper and yell back, did you?” “Come on. Of course not.” The women in his family had worse tempers than the men. The men didn’t dare, not with so many women around. “Then you’ve still got a chance.” Nita patted him on the knee before she went to make sure her pizza requirements were being met. James was already tired of emo. Brooding was not his style. He liked to make decisions, act and put things behind him, but right now he wasn’t sure what action to take. There was always the option of running away from Tallwood again. Going here, going there. Taking pictures and never coming home. But that was a life that sounded about as appetizing as dog poop pizza. The fact was, he really was getting old. He really was ready to settle down. By God, Mother was right. He took Darcy the sweater. She might not have anything warm in her suitcase, and it was cold out there.
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Chapter Eleven
The doorbell rang. Pop hobbled down the stairs into the den and swatted at Darcy’s brother Chip with his cane. “Get outta my chair and answer the door.” Chip exchanged a glance with Darcy before removing himself from the brown La-Z-Boy Pop had had since before Mom died. “Who’d be showing up here on Christmas?” “Carolers?” Darcy suggested. She rubbed at the tomato sauce on the cuff of her sweatshirt. “In Tallwood? I don’t think so.” Chip disappeared, his footsteps echoing through the big, empty house. Her other siblings and their families had returned to their homes after the traditional pizza buffet, the kids anxious to play with their new toys. Chip and his wife were still here because Nancy, in her third month of pregnancy, was napping in Chip’s old bedroom. Darcy and Pop were getting ready for a classic movie marathon. Westerns this year. Hail to the Duke. Right now, the Weather Channel was on, the green and red blotch of the storm that had caused havoc on the interstates in Arkansas dispersed across North Carolina and Virginia. Not quite a white Christmas, but it had definitely been a blue one. At least for her. She thought she’d hidden it well enough. When there were mostly men in the family, nobody noticed things like moodiness or depression unless you screeched at them about it.
Claustrophobic Christmas
Darcy heard two sets of footsteps now and male voices, pausing in…sounded like the kitchen. Getting drinks, no doubt. Maybe it was Pop’s friend Bud. He hadn’t been by yet and he usually showed up during the holidays with a bottle of whiskey for Pop. Pop didn’t like whiskey, so he returned the favor by giving Bud whatever bottle of whiskey Bud had given him last year. Sometimes he even remembered to wipe the dust off. It wouldn’t surprise Darcy if there were only two bottles involved in the exchange, swapped back and forth these many years. “You got Bud’s whiskey ready?” she asked him. Whiskey sounded tempting tonight. She’d already finished the pizza, the chocolate, the pie, the remaining jelly beans, the vegetable soup—hey, she had to eat something healthy—and the cake. “Your damn brother got into it at Thanksgiving,” Pop said. “I coulda kilt him. Had to go out and buy a new bottle.” Darcy didn’t need to ask which brother. Chip walked down the stairs, ice clinking in his highball glass. “Look who’s here,” he said, a strange expression on his face. Darcy glanced up to see James follow Chip into the den. She tried to say, “Hello,” but it came out more like, “What the hell are you doing here?” Pop wrenched himself around in the recliner, peering over his glasses at the intruder. “Huh? Who’s that there?” “James Jones,” James said evenly, ignoring Darcy’s rude greeting. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Burkell.” So what was he doing here? Had she left something in his truck? Good Lord, her panties. She noticed he was bearing gifts—a rectangular box and a bottle of whiskey with a bow around the neck. If Pop wanted her to unwrap the
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box in front of everyone and it had her travel comfort cotton panties in it, it might be the death of her. “Happy holidays.” He shook Pop’s hand and gave him the whiskey. “I hope you like Jack Daniels.” Darcy, despite the nervous buzzing in her ears, heard Chip snort. “Thanks, son.” Pop waved a hand at the direction of the couch. “Take off your coat and sit a spell. Darcy, get the man a drink. You want some of this?” He hefted the large bottle. “No, I’m fine,” James said. He locked gazes with Darcy for a minute, and she scooted all the way to one end of the long couch. She hoped he’d take the hint and seat himself at the other end, but he settled into the middle. “Chip already offered.” Instead of taking Mama’s rocking chair, Chip perched on the trunk near the mantel. His back to Pop, he winked at Darcy. “So why are you here, James? Is this a business meeting?” he asked innocently. Chip had been the brother who’d told James’s sister Sal about Darcy’s need for custom photography. In essence, he’d set them up. By the sly expression on Chip’s face, she wondered what he knew. The pit of her stomach lurched like Frankenstein’s monster. The only one who’d asked her about James had been Nancy, but Nancy was too sweet to say boo to a goose. She hadn’t been able to get anything out of Darcy beyond a shrug. “I was in the neighborhood,” James said. He slipped out of his parka and set it beside him with the gifts. “I thought I’d stop by.” Chip leaned forward, his hands around his glass. The ice tinkled as he shifted. “Is that so? I don’t think you’ve ever stopped by before, except maybe trick or treating.” “Shut up, Chip,” Darcy muttered.
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“I’m sure I did trick or treat here. My parents’ house is on Walnut,” James answered. He was about as convincing as a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Darcy prayed Pop didn’t realize something was up, because he was blunt to the point of offensiveness and there was no telling what he’d say. “You’re the one who’s been taking pitchers for Darcy’s little books,” Pop said to James. “I was,” James agreed. “What do you mean, was?” Pop said. “She fire ya?” She could feel James looking at her and stared fixedly at the crackling fire. What was his deal? She used to be able to cow her little brothers with a particularly evil knuckle punch in the biceps. She’d hate to have to break that move out on James, though her punch ought to have more impact now that she did zumba and yoga on a weekly basis. “Something like that,” James finally said. Pop turned his attention to Darcy, who wished she could sink between the cushions of the couch. “You fired a man at Christmas? What’d you go and do that for?” “Not for his photography,” Chip said. “You do some fine work, James.” “Thanks.” James was talking to Chip, but Darcy could tell he was watching her. “You’re not going bankrupt, are you, Darcy?” Pop asked. “Cutting costs?” “My business is solvent, Pop.” “I can give you a loan.” “I don’t need money.” Darcy rubbed her hands on her thighs and experienced a sinking realization. She was wearing the same lime green sweat suit she’d had on in the traffic jam. She’d done laundry yesterday, but it hadn’t
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improved the outfit’s appearance. No wonder James kept sneaking peeks at her. He was probably trying to figure out why he had déjà vu. “What’s in the box?” Chip asked. “This?” James held up the wrapped gift as if he’d forgotten about it. “It’s for Darcy.” “What did you get her?” “Not me, my mother.” James nudged the gift toward Darcy like he was trying to tame a wild beast with food, luring it close enough to pet. “She wanted you to have something under the tree in case you, ah…” He trailed off. “So you didn’t get her anything?” Chip raised an eyebrow and sipped his whiskey. “I, ah… I did, but…” Twice in a row? James was so rarely at a loss for words. Darcy finally looked at him and he was, of course, looking at her. His eyes didn’t project the disappointment she’d seen two nights ago, but she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Darcy licked her lips and tasted pizza. Great. She pretended to yawn and rubbed the area around her mouth with her fingers. James was going to think she was some kind of slob. Not that she cared what he thought. Except…why was he here? Bearing gifts? Looking at her with that intense, needy stare? “Chip,” Pop said suddenly, “let’s go make sandwiches.” He creaked out of the recliner and grabbed his cane. “I’ll take a pastrami on rye.” Chip rattled the ice in his glass. “Bring that whiskey when you come back down here too.”
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Pop thwacked the trunk with his cane. “Son, get off your ass and help an old man make sandwiches.” “You’re not old,” Chip grumbled, but he followed Pop up the stairs. Wonder of wonders—or horror of horrors—Darcy heard the door at the top of the stairs slam. So here she was, alone with a boy in the den. This was a first. Darcy’s fake yawn turned into a real one. Then James yawned. She crunched herself against the arm of the couch as the fire popped and the Weather Channel backed down from its prediction of record snowfalls. Sometimes, things didn’t go according to prediction. “Darcy,” James began, but she interrupted him. “I washed this sweat suit yesterday.” “Didn’t you bring anything else home?” “I did, I just like this sweat suit.” Darcy wondered if he was going to say anything about her missing panties. But he didn’t seem like he was in a joking mood. Well, neither was she. Seeing him again stung her heart like alcohol on a cat scratch. “What are you doing here, really?” “I think you know.” More lessons in honesty? “I have no idea.” He sighed. “I owe you an apology.” “Oh.” Darcy picked at the tomato stain on her cuff again. “Is that what the gift is for?” “No, Mother did get you this.” This time, when he shoved the package toward her, she picked it up. “My family assumed you’d spend part of Christmas at our house.” “Why would they think that?”
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James scratched his cheek, averting his gaze. “I may have given them that impression.” Darcy uncurled the fancy bow on top of the neatly decorated shirt box. Mall paper. She recognized it. Pop took all his gifts to the wrapping desk at Penney’s, and her Aunt Mavis fixed him up even when he hadn’t bought the stuff there. “I guess they figured out they were wrong.” “Maybe.” He scooted next to her, and since she was already smushed against the arm of the couch, she couldn’t escape. His eyes were a particularly bright blue, and he’d shaved. His shirt had a collar and looked like it had been ironed. She held up the box like a shield. “Do you want me to open this?” “It’s a sweater.” He shimmied the box out of her grasp and tossed it behind him. He was too close for her to concentrate on anything but the shape of his lips forming words, lips that had kissed her everywhere, so delightfully. “About that apology. You want me to do it on one knee or maybe grovel on the floor or what?” “Apology?” Darcy’s hands fluttered and her breathing sped up. She clasped and unclasped her fingers in her lap. “I was wrong to talk to you like that.” She tightened her lips, not trusting herself to speak. She could feel her whole body trembling. His heat poured over her. Maybe he should be groveling, on the floor, where she couldn’t smell his aftershave or see the three grey hairs glinting at his temple. “I was out of line and insensitive and stupid.” She nodded, tiny, quick jerks of her head.
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“You don’t tell lies. You write wonderful stories that make people want to visit the places you’ve described. You have more knowledge about geography and cultures and travel packed inside that head than anybody I know.” “Trivia.” Her voice came out thin and nervous, and she swallowed. “I read a lot.” “You love your job, and you’re good at it. I was a jackass telling you how to do it and, worse, how to live your life.” “I’m sorry too,” she whispered. He took her hands. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, honey.” “I’m sorry I can’t go to the Bahamas with you. Or Colorado.” She cleared her throat. If she cried, she was going to knuckle punch herself in the biceps. “I’m sorry I can’t go.” “Then I won’t stay as long,” he said with a laugh. “Look, Darcy. Look at me.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I am.” “It’s been two days, and you’ve been on my mind constantly. I thought I missed you before, but now? It’s like half my brain is gone and I can’t think.” She bit her lip. Was he saying that he’d changed his mind? That he wanted her, warts and all? That he accepted her as she was, without expecting some miracle cure? “I thought of you a few times too.” A few times being all day yesterday and all day today. “I want a future with you. I want to leave on my trips and come home to you. I want to be with you when I can and dream of you when I can’t.” As apologies go, it was good, so much so that her throat had a knot in it as big as a fist. She tried to answer him, tell him she shared his feelings, but no sound came out.
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“Baby, I need you to forgive me.” He slid to the floor, to his knees, as he’d threatened to do. “I do,” she managed. “I know our jobs will keep us apart a lot, and I don’t care. I’m in love with you, Darcy. Can you be with somebody who travels as much I do? Can you give me a second chance?” “I can try,” she said. “I can sure as hell try.”
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Epilogue
The gnome James had given Darcy for Christmas two years ago had the place of honor on the dashboard of her new car. He was a small gnome with an oddly evil glint in his eye, and the vivid orange and pink streaks in the sky behind him as the sun set across the rim of the Grand Canyon enhanced his demonic appearance. Darcy nudged the handsome man in the passenger’s seat of her car. “Put down the camera and look at this. That gnome is evil.” James trained the lens on the resin figurine, snapping a close-up. “He does look evil. What’s up with that?” She propped her arm on the door and slid her large, dark sunglasses off her nose so she could peer at the statuette. “It’s like he knows something we don’t.” “He might know something you don’t,” James told her. He nestled his leisure camera in the bag at his feet. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Darcy unwound the headscarf that had kept her hair in place, somewhat, and bounced to her knees so she could see over the windshield. Though this was the second time she’d seen the Grand Canyon—the first being yesterday—she couldn’t get over the panorama of tans and beiges and reds and yellows, the vastness of the earth and the buttes, the smell of dust and sage. She opened the door of the convertible and was about to head for the viewing area when James grabbed her hand.
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“The gnome knows this is the biggest place in the world,” he said. “It’s the widest open of all spaces.” Wind tousled her hair. She closed her eyes and felt the sun on her face, heard the murmurs of the few other tourists in this remote location. Was that an eagle crying or a kid? Eagle, surely. Because this moment was flawless. She, Darcy Burkell, was on the edge of the Grand Canyon. She’d driven here in a car without taking a single pill, and the journey had been wonderful, if bisected by a lot of pit stops. A lot of pit stops. But that was life, right? James’s fingers twined through hers, and she felt a rush of triumph in the perfection of this moment, this setting, this man and her achievement. He placed something small and cool in her hand and closed her fingers around it. “He knows the biggest place in the world is the best place for me to ask you if you’ll marry me.” Darcy smiled. She didn’t open her eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” “In Las Vegas?” “Sure.” “Tomorrow?” “I suppose.” James acted like he was relieved, like he didn’t already know what she was going to say. She let him have his fun. She’d picked out the ring, after all, and the dress, and the route, and the dates, though she’d allowed him to pick the chapel. She might have learned to love car trips in a convertible, but that didn’t mean she liked surprises.
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About the Author
Ellie Marvel is published in romance fiction under the names Jody Wallace (fantasy romance) and Ellie Marvel (erotic romance). She has always lived with cats, and they have always been mean. To learn more about Ms. Wallace, please visit www.jodywallace.com or the cat’s
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www.meankitty.com.
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Look for these titles by Ellie Marvel
Now Available: What She Deserves Claustrophobic Christmas
Writing as Jody Wallace Now Available: A Spell for Susannah Liam’s Gold The Fey Realm Survival of the Fairest One Thousand Kisses
Then: Geeky science nerd. Now: Most Likely to Fall in Love!
What She Deserves © 2009 Jody Wallace
At seventeen Winifred Sampson was sure of three things. She was a nerd, she hated Peter Duvall, and her crush on the quarterback would never be reciprocated. Ten years later, she can safely revise two of those constants. She’s a sexy, self-confident woman, more than woman enough to seduce a former high school football player. She doesn’t spare a thought for that turkey Peter…until she sees him at the reunion. My, how he’s grown! Peter never cared that he and Winnie were the class nerds. So they were smart. So they didn’t have dates. Big deal. Now they’re both smart and successful. She was always his fantasy girl, and he’s decided to make a few of his own dreams come true…in the most carnal way possible. All he has to do is convince her he’s graduated—with honors—from dud to stud. Warning: This title contains explicit sexuality, bad dancing and man-on-door violence. Enjoy the following excerpt for What She Deserves: Peter held up his arm again and summoned the bartender. “Two champagnes, please.” “Good choice.” The bartender served up double flutes of bubbly. “What are we celebrating tonight besides the obvious? High school sweethearts?”
Winnie accepted the fizzy champagne and took a sip. The bubbles tickled her nose. “We’re so not. Why do people keep thinking we’re together?” The man wiped the bar before draping the towel over his shoulder. “I’ve seen my share of couples. You two have an eye for each other.” The bartender was obviously talking out of his hind end. What couples argued all the time? Unhappy ones, that’s who. “Listen to the man, Winnie.” Peter laughed and clinked his glass against hers. “We’ve got eyes for each other.” “I’d like to punch you in the eye,” she grumbled. “Wouldn’t be the first time. I had a huge shiner after that football game our junior year.” “Finally, a pleasant memory.” Winnie grinned, remembering the incident. Peter had tied the sleeves of her shirt in a knot while she was wearing it, strapping her arms to her body. She’d blacked his eye as soon as she’d gotten free. The band struck up a rockabilly tune and Peter tucked his arm around her waist, whirling her in a circle. “Come on, Winifred. Let’s dance.” She was surprised to find herself tempted. “I’ll spill my drink.” “Can’t have that.” He slowed, his hand burning through the silk of her wrap. Alumni squeezed past them to access the bar, and Winnie was jostled so close to Peter their bodies were almost touching. There wasn’t much on her slender frame that stuck out, but if she’d been one cup size bigger, there would have been contact. Peter sipped his drink, never taking his gaze off her. Ok, she could admit it. He wasn’t being horrid and he looked good. Really good. There was a vibe here beyond their historic animosity. But she couldn’t get distracted trying to find out what it was.
As intriguing as it seemed at the moment. Come on, girl, snap out of it. Where the hell was Chase McKnight? Had he seen her with Peter? Would Tod say anything to him about Beanpole looking like a million bucks? Or nine hundred and eighty bucks, if you wanted to be precise about the cost of her designer duds. “Bottoms up.” Peter tinked his glass against hers. “Then we can dance.” “Are you trying to get me drunk?” “Not this early in the evening. I’ll work on that later.” “In your dreams, Duvall.” Upon closer inspection, she could see the boy she’d known in his features. All he’d done was grow several inches, fill out, get a tan, lose the glasses and acne. Same cleft in his chin. Same hazel eyes. Same dark blond hair. Same…personality? Or had he matured? What if he started with that competitive crap again? Lord knows she’d avoided people like that since graduating high school. Four years of feuding with Peter had been enough. He lowered his head like he was going to tell her a secret, and his breath wafted across her face. Champagne and toothpaste. He had the most incredibly long lashes. Winnie licked her lips and felt something inside her come alive at his proximity. “Winnie,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “What?” It was like he’d cast a spell. She couldn’t move. A couple inches closer and he’d be touching her. Kissing her. And then he was touching her. His hand slipped beneath her wrap, brushing her skin. “I’ve waited ten years to tell you something.”
