Detour Ahead

3

WITH SHAKING HANDS, Marlee gathered up the left-overs from their lunch and stashed them in her bag. What had she been thinking, practically jumping Craig’s bones there on that log? Sure, he was a hottie and yummy as a hot fudge sundae, but what kind of a woman throws herself at a man she’s known all of three hours? He’d think she was desperate, or cheap—or both.

She headed for the car and he came up behind her as she was arranging things in the back seat. “About what happened just now…” he began.

She whirled to face him, her face hot with embarrassment. “It didn’t mean anything,” she blurted. “I mean…it just happened. And it shouldn’t have.” She stared at the ground. This was coming out badly.

“Yeah, uh, I guess we both got a little carried away.”

She risked a glance at him and saw that he had his head down, his hands shoved in his pockets. She relaxed a little. He didn’t look like a guy who’d gotten the wrong idea. He dug a trench in the gravel with the toe of his shoe. “Look, not that it’s an excuse or anything, but it’s been a while for me and…” He shook his head. “I don’t want you to think that because I’m giving you a ride, I think you owe me anything. Because I don’t. Think that. I mean, I’m not like that.”

Something in her melted right then. It was all she could do not to throw her arms around him again. For a guy who had come on this morning like Mr. Macho, she liked this version even better. Call him Mr. Decent. How many of those did you meet anymore? “It’s okay,” she said. “I guess….” She shrugged. “I guess we could say we both did what came naturally. But that doesn’t mean it meant anything.” Except she’d been on plenty of nature walks, camping trips and day hikes before and fresh air had never affected her this way.

“Right.” He nodded and took his hands out of his pockets. Their eyes met, then they both looked away, as if afraid to focus too closely on each other just yet. “So, we both agree we’ll go on like before. As if nothing happened.”

“Right.” Should she warn him that at various times she’d also sworn off chocolate, coffee and ice cream, and hadn’t managed to stay away from any of those temptations longer than a week? But then, a week was all she needed, right?

“So, I guess we’d better hit the road if we’re going to make it to Kingsport by dark.”

He started around the car to the driver’s side, but she stopped him. “Let me drive for a while. You can take a nap.”

He shook his head. “That’s okay.”

“Oh, come on. We’ll make better time and be more alert if we take turns driving.” Besides, this was another way to keep things even between them. Not that she didn’t believe what he’d said about her not owing him any “special” favors for agreeing to give her a lift, but she didn’t want any room for doubt.

He frowned. “I thought you didn’t have a license.”

A picky detail. “Yes, but that was just bad luck. I’m not a bad driver, really.”

He shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Come on. We’re out in the middle of nowhere.” She spread her arms wide. “It’s a nice, straight road. What could happen?”

He stifled a yawn.

“See, you are tired!” She took a step toward him. He started to back up and bumped into the car. “I’m the only one who’s ever driven this car and I think it should stay that way.” He put his hand on the side panel, a protective gesture.

“I get it now. You’re worried I’ll hurt your precious car.”

He looked uncomfortable, but she saw she’d scored a bull’s-eye. What was it with men and their cars, anyway? “Look, if you’re tired, don’t you think the chances are greater that you’ll have an accident? Whereas I’ve already had a nap and I’m fresh and alert.” She leaned closer, almost but not quite touching him. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to your precious car.”

Confronted by her in such close quarters, he apparently decided to relent. “Okay, okay. You can drive. But only for a little while.” He held out the keys. “And no speeding. Be careful.”

She traced an X over her heart. “I promise. I’ll take it nice and easy. And you can get some rest.”

They got in the car and he pushed the seat back and reclined it slightly. She slipped on her sandals then started the engine. “See, this was a good idea,” she said.

He nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I mean, how much trouble could anybody get into way out here?”

MARLEE GRIPPED the steering wheel so tightly her fingers were practically fused to the leather. She gnawed her lower lip and tried to think calming thoughts. Deep breaths, she reminded herself. Take deep breaths. There’s no need to panic.

Except that she didn’t have a clue where she was, or even if she was headed in the right direction. She glanced over at Craig. Head back, mouth open, he snored softly. Thank God he wasn’t awake to see her predicament. Though if he was, he might be able to get them out of this mess.

She’d done fine for the first hour or so, cruising along at a nice safe speed, humming in harmony with Bonnie Rait on the stereo, enjoying the beautiful spring day.

Then one of those nasty orange signs had popped up on the side of the road. One that said Road Construction Ahead. And then an even nastier sign had appeared. Detour.

She’d sat up a little straighter in the seat and told herself she could handle it. All she had to do was follow the signs and she’d end up back on the highway, traveling in the same direction. No problem.

Except she must have missed one of the signs, or maybe they’d forgotten to put one out. She made two or three turns and by that time she was so confused, she couldn’t have said which way was the right way to go.

So she guessed. A dangerous proposition, but the only other alternative was to wake Craig and ask for help. What self-respecting woman wanted to do that? Especially one who had made such a big deal about driving?

She shifted in the seat, trying to get more comfortable, and stared down the road, hoping for a road sign or a billboard or anything to tell her where she was and where she needed to go. But all she saw were empty fields and distant trees. No houses, no people and no signs.

Keep driving, she told herself. You’re bound to come to a town eventually. That’s what roads do. They connect towns.

She glanced at Craig again. His hair was ruffled and dark beard stubble showed along his jaw. She imagined he’d look like this first thing in the morning.

Her imagination quickly stripped him of his shirt, and painted a picture of him reaching for her across the rumpled sheets….

Stop that! She jerked her gaze back to the road, and tried to ignore the very different kind of heat scorching through her body. This was insane. She didn’t usually behave this way with the men she dated. And she had to travel three thousand miles with Craig. She couldn’t keep looking at him like a dieter contemplating the dessert of the day. She was an adult. She ought to be able to control these…these urges, and relate to Craig like another adult. A friend. A very sexy, very male friend.

She stifled a groan and clutched the steering wheel even more tightly. Why couldn’t they have met back in Washington? Gotten to know each other over a few weeks? Then they could fall into bed guilt-free. But not on a cross-country trip when they were still practically strangers.

What did it matter? He obviously wasn’t interested. Oh, his body was, but you couldn’t trust a man’s physical reactions. They could get turned on by pictures in magazines or random hints of certain perfumes. So when she’d come on to Craig back there by the creek, she would have been amazed if he hadn’t responded.

His mind wasn’t interested, though. He’d made that clear up front. He didn’t want any “complications.” Which she figured was a polite way of saying he didn’t want her. Mr. Strictly Business wasn’t interested in Ms. Anything Goes. What else was new?

She passed a house, and then another. A small billboard urged her to shop at Dave’s Auto Parts in Downieville. Half a mile farther a green sign announced that she was entering Downieville, population thirteen hundred. And three. Relief flooded her. She’d stop at a gas station or grocery store in Downieville and ask for directions. She checked Craig. He still slept soundly. With any luck, she could find out what she needed to know and head back in the right direction before he ever realized what was going on.

As she guided the car down the two-lane through the center of town, nostalgia overwhelmed her. Downieville reminded her of Dimmitt, with its mom-and-pop stores, signs in the windows celebrating the accomplishments of the local school teams and flower boxes along the sidewalks. It looked like the kind of place that would be fun to poke around in, if they had more time.

The town was small, but busy for a Saturday afternoon. People filled the sidewalks in front of the neat rows of shops, and traffic was heavy. Cars, trucks, even a fire engine clogged the street up ahead. Had there been an accident? Or maybe there was a big game.

She followed the stream of cars, inching past sidewalks lined with people. Some had even brought lawn chairs and sat down to watch. Some of them waved to her, and she waved back. She rolled down a window, intending to ask a passerby what was going on. Just then, a band started up, trumpets and a big bass drum loud in her ears.

She looked behind her and indeed, a high-school band, complete with a trio of twirlers in leotards, marched in formation behind her car. Beyond them, she could see a truck pulling a trailer decorated with crêpe-paper flowers. Facing forward again, she saw two clowns skipping ahead of her, bunches of balloons in their hands.

The band let out another loud fanfare. “Huh? Wha—?” Craig sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked around, blinking. “Where are we? What’s going on?”

She watched one of the clowns hand a balloon to a giggling toddler. “I think we’re in a parade.” Ahead of them in the traffic, she could make out a red convertible, with a tiara-clad young woman perched on the back seat. She tossed out candy, and the children scrambled for it.

“A parade! Are you crazy?”

“Look in my tote and get that bag of hard candy, will you?”

“What?”