Dangerous Lover (5 page)

“Caroline?” he said again. “I don’t mind driving in the snow.”

She was tempted. Oh God, was she tempted. Just dump this terrible trip into those large, capable-looking hands. He’d do a better job of it than she, Caroline was sure.

But this was her car, and it was her responsibility to take her new boarder home. Life had taught her the hard way to face up to her problems herself, without help.

“No, that’s okay.” Bringing the seat forward, she put the car in first and pressed on the accelerator. The wheels spun, then bit. So far, so good. “I’m fine,” she lied, and eased slowly out into the street. Into what she hoped was the street.

Good thing she knew the way home blindfolded, because that’s the way she was driving. Great white sheets of snow came hurling out of the sky, sometimes driven horizontal by the howling wind, driving the flakes into wild circular flurries. Sometimes it looked as if it were snowing
up
.

Caroline punched the radio on, an old habit when driving in bad weather. She spent most of her time alone in the car, and the radio made her feel connected to the rest of the human race.

“—biggest blizzard since 1957, our weather service is telling us, even worse than the one in 2001 and I, for one, don’t have any trouble believing it.”

Caroline smiled as she heard Roger Stott’s beautifully modulated baritone on the air. He could make even horrific weather sound sexy. She’d dated him for a couple of weeks on the basis of his voice alone, before the problems with Toby drove him away.

Just one more man in a long line of potential suitors who couldn’t face what she had to deal with.

“And now for some international news. UN peacekeeping forces in Sierra Leone have reported that a group of U.S. mercenaries massacred a village of women and children and made off with a fortune in blood diamonds. The head of the group is in a UN prison awaiting extradition. UN spokeswoman Elfriede Breitweiser said that the men worked for a U.S. security
contracting company based in North Carolina called—”

The radio clicked off. Caroline looked over in surprise at her passenger. His dark eyes met hers. “Weather’s too severe for bad news.”

And how. Caroline was battling the wind buffeting her small car, trying desperately to hold the car to the road without sliding. She clutched the steering wheel with white knuckles, bending forward to peer through the windshield. She could barely see the edge of the road and was driving more by instinct and memory than by sight.

This was awful. She was crawling along at ten miles an hour. At this speed, they wouldn’t get home for an hour. Caroline pressed her foot down on the accelerator.

It happened all at once.

Too late, Caroline felt the deadly absence of grip in the road. An instant later, a sharp sound shot above the noise of the howling wind. Instantly the car careened wildly as Caroline lost control, spinning dangerously to the left. Panicked, she braked hard, and the car spun horribly, completely out of control.

A dark shape suddenly loomed, two glowing lights visible high up off the ground like the eyes of a giant predator. A desperate squeal of brakes and a blast of horn as deep and as loud as a foghorn…

It took Caroline a full second to realize that she was about to ram head-on into a massive truck. “Oh my God!” she screamed, as they slid on the black ice, right into the path of the dark, massive oncoming shape.

“Let go of the wheel and brace yourself,” a deep, calm voice
said. Two strong brown hands gripped the wheel, turning the car into the slide, and Jack’s left leg reached over hers as he gently tapped the brakes in a slow, regular cadence, shifting down the gears.

The slide slowed, became controlled, not that awful, sickening spinning horror. The car made a complete 360-degree turn. Jack kept it moving left until they came to a stop an inch from a lamppost on the left shoulder of the road. A second later, the massive truck barreled by, horn blaring angrily. The small car rocked with the wind displacement.

It happened so quickly. One second she was battling the wind and snow and the next they were in free fall. The adrenaline shock of a near accident raced burning through her system. If Jack hadn’t taken the wheel, they’d have died in a crush of steel, in a mangle of broken bones and blood.

They’d been a second from dying.

She had her hands to her mouth, covering a scream that wanted to break out. The tickle of bitter bile trickled up her throat, and she swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t vomit.

Caroline was shaking so hard she felt she would fall apart, the vision of the front of the truck bearing down on them still fresh in her eyes. She was gulping in air frantically, throat tight with panic.

Her seat belt was unlatched, massive arms pulled her to a broad chest.

Oh God, strength and safety.

She dived into him, huddling, trembling, arms tightly wound around his neck, breathing in panicked spurts, until the worst of the shaking died down.

A big hand held the back of her head, almost covering it. Caroline’s face was buried in his neck, the stubble along his jawbone scratching her forehead. Her nose was right against the pulse in his neck, beating steadily and slowly, like a metronome, in contrast to her own trip-hammering one.

There was the minty scent of snow, a pleasant musky odor that must have been him and, oddly, the smell of leather. His long black hair had come loose in the wind and flowed around her face, surprisingly soft.

There was nothing soft about the body she was held against, though. It was like embracing steel. He’d pulled her tightly against himself as if he could absorb her wild trembling.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. She could feel the vibrations of his deep voice. “Nothing happened, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, not by a long shot.

This was exactly how her parents had died—a bad snowstorm, black ice, a truck plowing into their car. A mangle of flesh and steel so horrendous it had taken the highway patrol six hours with the Jaws of Life to get their bodies out. There had barely been enough of her father to bury.

Caroline had woken up more nights than she could count in a sweat, imagining her parents’ last seconds of life. The terror as they saw the truck looming suddenly out of the snow, the heart-sickening realization that it was too late. Her father had been impaled on the steering wheel, his legs sheared off at the thighs. Her mother had lived for two weeks, in a coma.

And Toby, poor Toby. Sweet, gentle Toby. Condemned to live the next six years of his life in a wheelchair, in constant
pain, only to die before he reached his twentieth birthday.

She saw that in her dreams, lived it, night after night after night. And in her nightmares was the constant presence of Death, coming to take her, too, as it had taken the rest of her family. She couldn’t hope to cheat him forever.

This had the dark, metallic taste of her nightmares, only it was real. Caroline dug deep for control, found it, eased away from him.

“What was that?” Her voice was high-pitched and breathless. She looked up into Jack’s face, dark and intent. The only sign of stress was white lines of tension pinching his nostrils. He was being brave, so should she. She drew in a shuddering breath and tried to keep her voice level. “What happened to the car?”

“Tire blew,” he answered grimly. “Front left.”

Oh God,
no
. Her tires were old and bald. Caroline had been putting off buying new tires, hoping to hang on for at least another month, knowing it was foolish and knowing she had no choice.

She’d nearly killed them because she couldn’t afford new tires. And now one of them was flat.

It was just too much. Changing a tire in this weather. How on earth did you change a tire in a
blizzard
?

“Do you have a spare and a jack?” he asked.

“Yes.” The spare was as old as the other tires, but she did have one, and a jack. Considering the condition of everything else in her life, it was probably rusted and would snap in two in the cold.

It was so tempting just to put her forehead down on the
steering wheel and weep out her rage and frustration, but as emotionally satisfying as it would be, it wouldn’t get them home.

A vicious blast of wind rocked the car, and Caroline clutched Jack’s jacket for balance. Dear God, they couldn’t stay here while she dithered—they’d freeze to death. Caroline turned in her seat and put her hand on the door handle, hoping her hands would stop shaking soon.

“What do you think you’re doing?” That deep voice was harsh. Caroline looked over her shoulder in surprise. His brow was furrowed, and he was frowning at her, the skin stretched tautly over his high cheekbones.

“Ah…” What did he think? They couldn’t stay here a moment longer than necessary. “Getting out to change the tire. We need to get home soon before the weather gets even worse. In a little while we won’t be able to drive in the streets.”

Night had fallen. The glow from the streetlights couldn’t penetrate the snow, and it was almost completely dark in the car. All she could see of him was the whites of his eyes and his white teeth. He touched her arm, briefly.

“Pop the trunk and stay in here. Don’t open your door, not even for a second.”

There wasn’t time to protest. The passenger-side door opened briefly, and he slipped out. In that one second that the door was open, a gust of wind blew a snow flurry into the car, sucking out the heat. Caroline opened the trunk and heard metal clanging in the back.

A second later, he was at her front left fender, jacking the car up, working almost blind. Every once in a while, the
fierce wind would part the curtain of snow, and she could see him, large and dark and intent, kneeling by the fender. She switched on the overhead light, hoping it could help in some small degree, though she doubted it. It probably comforted her more than helped him.

Sooner than she could have imagined possible, he was knocking at her window.

He bent to put his mouth close to the glass. “Do you want me to drive?” he shouted, his deep voice carrying above the howl of the wind.

Oh, God, yes! Yes, yes
yes!

The hell with politically correct. The hell with duty. The thought of driving in this weather over black ice with her bald tires made her break out in a sweat. It was another accident just waiting to happen.

Caroline met his eyes through the glass and nodded.

“Scoot over and buckle up.” His hands were cupped around his mouth, but even so, his words barely carried.

He wasn’t going to make her get out and circle the car. Bless him. Caroline managed to make it over to the passenger seat without breaking her hip on the stick shift. Jack waited until she was in the seat and pulling the seat belt over her chest before opening the door.

He could barely fit his legs in the footwell and had to ratchet the seat back to its fullest extent, bringing it even with hers. He started the engine, letting it warm up.

Caroline turned to him, a large dark shadow in the dark. “That was quick. It would have taken me an hour in this weather, if I’d even be able to manage it at all.”

He looked over at her. One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, just a quick flash of white teeth. “I’ve changed a lot of tires under enemy fire. You learn to be fast.”

“I’ll just bet you do. Listen—” Caroline breathed deeply. She owed him an apology. “I want to thank you for changing the tire. That was my responsibility and—oh, goodness, you’re hurt!” Something dark and liquid gleamed on his right hand. “Heavens, first you change my tire for me, then my car bites the hand that feeds it. I’m so sorry.” She fumbled in the glove compartment and came out with tissues, which she held against his hand. The tissue turned immediately dark red. He’d gashed his hand badly. She changed tissues. “Hold that against your hand for about five minutes until the bleeding stops. You might need stitches, that’s a nasty cut. We can stop at the emergency room of the hospital on the way.”

“No.” The deep voice was gentle as he covered her hand with his. She’d taken her gloves off to drive and felt a jolt as his large, rough hand covered hers. His hand was hot, radiating heat not only to her hand but to the rest of her body.

It was electric, the feel of his skin against hers. In the darkness, his hot hand seemed to anchor her. His grip on her hand was light, but the effect of it was enormous. Heat zinged through her, a sharp contrast to the cold, to the panic she’d felt.

She’d been frozen with panic, and his touch sent strength and heat through her system.

He squeezed lightly, then lifted his hand away. “I heal fast, don’t worry about it. We need to get going now, or we won’t get home at all.”

“But your hand—”

“Is fine.” He switched off the overhead light, put the car in gear and stepped on the accelerator. In a moment, they had crossed back over to the right side of the road. “Don’t worry about my hand. Just direct me to your house. We need to get there as quickly as possible. Where do I turn?”

He did heal quickly. The deep gash had almost stopped bleeding.

Caroline peered out the window uncertainly, though visibility was nearly zero. It was impossible to tell where the intersections were. The only way to find out would be by crashing into a car.

“Keep on straight down this road for three-quarters of a mile, then turn right. I’ll try to navigate for you.”

“Okay,” he said calmly. He was driving much faster than she had dared to. She would have said something—fast driving scared her—but he was clearly in total command of the car, and the more quickly they got home, the happier she’d be.

She peered out the window, trying to discern landmarks. It was haphazard at best. At times, a ferocious gust of wind lifted the snow curtain for just a second. She saw the benches outside the railing along Grayson Park, then the big Christmas tree at the corner of Center Street and Fife, then—“Here,” she said suddenly, relieved. “Turn right here.”

He took the corner so smoothly, they might have been driving on a balmy summer evening. Caroline counted off lampposts and started to relax. Another five minutes, ten tops, and they’d be home. “The first left, the second right and it’s the fourth driveway on the right.”