The Great Escape: A Vintage Contemporary Romance

by Thea Harrison

  After their simple meal, she made coffee and they sat on her bed and watched the movie. It was very good and so funny that she sometimes had to hold her sides from laughing so much. Once her merry blue eyes travelled to Mike’s large frame beside her, and she caught him watching her instead of the television, his gaze cloudy and troubled. Her smile died as she was shocked into the awareness of the situation, amazed at how she tended to forget. She shrank back, and the rest of the movie was spent in unsmiling silence.

  As she was putting away the dishes after they had drained dry, much later, she opened and closed the few cupboards that she had over the stove, shuffling things around. It was a real effort to get everything to fit into the small space she had for storage, and the cupboards not only held all of her dishware, but her canned goods and spices, along with everything that should have gone in the medicine cabinet, if she had had one. She impatiently thrust aside the aspirin and a small pill bottle that held only a few more pills, as she put away the salt and pepper shaker—then she stopped dead, heart thumping madly and throat constricting, staring at that little, nearly empty medicine bottle.

  Then her gaze swivelled to the closed bathroom door where Mike was washing up, her eyes wide and horrified at the audacity of the thought that had struck her. The bottle held prescription sleeping pills, left over from several months ago when the vivid, horrifying nightmare of her parents’ deaths had resurfaced because of the stress she had been under to find a job and a place to live before her money ran out. She hadn’t wanted to throw away the leftover pills in case the nightmare returned. She stared at that little white bottle, her blue eyes narrowed and catlike, then her eyes flew to the closed bathroom door again, from which she could hear water running and the sounds of him moving around. It would be a terrible thing to do, but she was going to try.

  She wondered if she could pull it off.

  When Mike emerged a few minutes later, he found her spooning in fresh coffee grounds into a paper liner in her coffee-maker. He came and peered over her shoulder for a moment, and she said briefly, “Getting it ready for breakfast in the morning,” and held her breath. Her hands were steady, though, as she slid the container into place on the machine, and since he had said nothing, she turned to face him.

  And she received a shock. The actual reality of him sleeping in the same room with her had not really surfaced into her busy thoughts until then, and she stared at him with wide eyes. He had on a light pair of cotton pyjama bottoms and absolutely nothing else, his brown smooth muscled chest bare, as were his feet. Her eyes bounced down him and then away. His were trained on her face and he murmured amusedly, “Be thankful I’ve made the concession of wearing the bottoms. I usually wear nothing.”

  Dee didn’t say anything. What was there to say? With an effort, she tore her gaze away from that bare, surprisingly attractive chest and walked determinedly over to her closet, drawing out two blankets and throwing them at him. He caught them deftly. “That’s all I have,” she said quickly. “You’ll have to make do with those.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He squatted dawn and began to lay them out, and for the life of her she couldn’t keep from staring at the smooth, graceful lines of his body clearly revealed. The line of his powerful back curved down to the leanness of his slim hips, and both legs looked underneath the thin cloth to be well shaped, muscular. She knew from experience how powerful those legs were. If he had been anywhere near her, she knew she would never have had a prayer of outrunning him, let alone getting as far as she did. He was so very quick, and that was a lot of motive power, moving such bulk so swiftly. She turned again, jerkily, and grabbed her own night clothes from her nearby dresser, heading for the bathroom with a muffled, “Excuse me.” He had to stand to let her past.

  In the privacy of the bathroom, she viciously brushed her small teeth as she mentally cursed her wide eyes and nervous thumping heart. Sure, she had no experience with living closely with a man, and she had been sheltered during her upbringing and had rarely made friends with the opposite sex, but that didn’t account for the wild pounding of her heart and the acute awareness that she was feeling for this man. He was obviously a mature, fully grown male, and an attractive one at that, and that was all. She could control herself better, she knew she could. There was nothing special about this man. There was nothing special at all.

  Except for the fact that he was the most intelligent, intuitive, capable man she had ever met. There were few people that Dee actually felt intimidated by, but he was one of them, for he could out-think her, and he could outwit her if she wasn’t careful. She was beginning to see that it was a compliment to her own intelligence that it had taken him as long as nine months to find her, not a compliment to his that he found her in only that amount of time.

  She slid her long nightshirt over her slim shoulders and frowned ferociously into the slightly distorted mirror on the wall. Well, all that meant was that she was going to have to think harder, dig way down and really use her brains for the first time in a long time. The only reason why he had found her in the first place was because she had underestimated him and relaxed her guard. She had slipped up.

  And she wasn’t going to slip up again.

  The bathroom door opened slowly, and she stuck her head around it hesitantly. There he was, reclining on the floor with his bare arms flexed back and hands linked behind his dark head. He was resting on one of the huge throw pillows that she used on her bed in the daytime, and her bedcovers were pulled down for her. The late news was on the television, but he was watching her instead, unwaveringly. A fresh wave of nervousness hit her in the region of her stomach and it showed. Her big blue eyes were nearly black, they were dilated so, and her thin face was very pale. She came out of the bathroom slowly, looking as if she might bolt at the first sudden movement.

  Mike Carridine said calmly, running his unfathomable gaze down her slim body, “I was beginning to get worried for a minute. I don’t trust you in that bathroom for any length of time and I would hate to have to chase you in my pyjamas.”

  Dee had to smile at that, reluctantly, and felt comfortable enough to walk closer. The room was so small that he had to lay down his blankets by necessity right beside her bed, and she climbed on her bed from the bottom end to avoid stepping over him. Then she settled gingerly under the covers, eyeing him with that wary, distrustful gaze.

  His face softened a little, and the change in his expression from that was so noticeable that she had to stare. Those features were really hard, with a firm, uncompromising jaw and harsh cheekbones and brow bone, and she’d only seen him with a determined look in those bright green eyes. That gentler expression made him look younger, and she found herself revising her impression of his age. He would be in his late twenties, perhaps, or thirty. “You don’t have anything to feel nervous about, child,” he said quietly. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Her eyes widened at that, and she felt supremely startled. She was touched by what he had said, but then her facial expression sharpened and she snapped, “I don’t believe that, and I don’t trust you. You’re hurting me now, damn you, and there’s nothing I can do about it!”

  His eyes changed and they stared at each other for a minute before Dee deliberately rolled over and pulled her covers to her neck. There was a moment or two of tense silence and then something rustled. She stiffened, but all that happened was that the light was abruptly doused and they were plunged into darkness. The last thing said between them was when Mike said implacably, “We leave in the morning, early.” And the words fell on her heart like a heavy stone.

  Dee didn’t sleep well at all, what with nervousness cramping in her stomach and apprehension holding her in its grip. She could hear Mike’s quiet breathing, even and soft in the darkness, and the sound was strangely intimate and soothing. Even so, she had the impression of a coiled, dangerous animal crouching at her feet and she dared not move for fear she might wake the beast.

  When the first golden rays began to dispel the preda
wn’s greyness, she quietly crept out of her covers and went to her tiny kitchen to start the coffee. When she turned around and glanced at Mike, she found him watching her calmly, alertly, though he still looked relaxed. He also looked rested, which was more than she could say for herself. She put a self-conscious hand to her rumpled hair, blinking sleepily.

  “I must look like a mess,” she mumbled, sliding her eyes away from his. In actuality she looked like a sleepy rumpled kitten, with those clear blue eyes peering out from under the yellow gold of her curling hair. The nightshirt was too large and merely served to emphasise the slight delicate lines of her bone structure, and drew attention to her legs.

  “Mm,” was his only comment, but when Dee glanced up and caught his gaze, she saw appreciation flicker in them as he swept her over with an encompassing look. That made her more self-conscious than before, and she became aware of how much bare leg she was exposing. In comparison to her tiny bikini, it wasn’t much, but the context of it was what had her blushing furiously. A quick second glance at him found him looking slightly amused, and this only served to make her redden even more. “Who gets first dibs on the bathroom?”

  She seized on that gratefully. “I’ll get in first, so that I can be packing while you’re in.” And then, with a sudden forlorn look around, she added miserably, “What’s going to happen to all my things?” But she ducked her head without waiting for a reply, then turned to bring down a coffee mug from the cupboard, pouring some of the fresh hot liquid into it and handing it carefully to him, heart rattling madly away and mouth dry. She kept a stern hold on her expression, though, and her face was calm. Mike took it with a murmured thanks, and then glanced at her other empty hand curiously.

  “You’re not having any?” He sipped at the cup and winced at its heat.

  “No,” she replied offhandedly, “I want to take a shower first so that my hair can dry. Leave the burner on and I’ll have some when I get out.”

  He nodded, and she quickly escaped into the minuscule privacy of the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning against it, sagging. Then, shooting into frantic action, she jumped into the shower and was out again before the water had a chance to heat up. Towelling her hair dry and combing it with a ruthless disregard for the painful tangles, she was out again in about ten minutes. The drug was powerful and it would start to hit him soon. She found him partially dressed, with a pair of faded jeans on and a dark blue shirt, unbuttoned. He was sitting at the table and holding his head in one hand, and Dee felt a surge of guilt at what she had done. She advanced cautiously. “How are you feeling? Are you getting disorientated?”

  His head came up and he looked at her angrily. “You drugged me, didn’t you?” The words were angry, yet slurred, and she winced.

  She didn’t bother to lie. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry, but I had to.”

  She came over and put a hand on his arm, feeling the muscle bunch at her touch, so that she stepped back nervously. Would he get violent? He tried to stand and started to fall, and she ran to his side quickly, throwing her arms around his waist for support. She helped him to her bed and let him fall on it, stepping back pantingly. He was heavier than he looked. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at his face. It was strange, looking at him like this. He seemed so helpless, for all his smooth, latent muscled strength. He focused his eyes with difficulty on her face, one hand coming up to cup her cheek, only to fall lifelessly on to the bed again.

  Impulsively Dee reached out and smoothed hair away from his brow, and it was silky to the touch. “How long do I have?” he muttered, fighting to keep his eyes open.

  “Only a minute or so. They’re strong sleeping pills,” she answered softly. Strange, to feel regret. “You should be well rested by the time you wake up, in about five or six hours. I hope they don’t give you a headache, like they did me.”

  Mike sighed, resignedly, and incredibly his lips quirked into a fleeting smile. “You little shit, why’d you go and do a thing like this for?”

  “I’ll run until I die,” she said quietly. “No amount of coercion will change that. I will not be forced into something against my will. I tell you, I will not go back.”

  “I’m going to come after you, you know that,” he whispered, closing his eyes and opening them again to stare at her. Dee was amazed that the sleeping pills would take so long to affect him. He should have been out cold long ago.

  “Stubborn man!” she muttered, running her gaze over his face. He was a very handsome man, and she suddenly realised that she was resting one hand lightly against his bare chest.

  He muttered mockingly, “Stubborn child,” and his eyes fluttered shut for the last time.

  Dee watched him sleeping as peacefully as a baby, and she smiled a strange smile that she couldn’t explain even to herself. “Never underestimate your opponent, Mike Carridine. I’m no child.” And she touched his motionless lips with her own.

  Even though she knew she had time, she raced around like a mad thing, stuffing essentials into her knapsack and cleaning out the coffee-maker. Then she thoughtfully prepared Mike a nice salad for lunch and tucked him under the covers so that he would be comfortable. She didn’t know what appalled her the most, the fact that she had drugged him, or that she had actually kissed him, even if he was unconscious of that. She didn’t know what crazy impulse had prompted her. After stuffing her handbag into her knapsack, she wrote out a hasty note, giggling a little nervously at its smart message: Take your time. There’s lunch in the refrigerator. The rent’s paid until the end of the month. Dee.

  When she was ready to go, she stood for one last time and stared down into his face. The covers were pulled to his chest, but even so she could see a good expanse of brown skin. His head was turned to one side, and he was breathing deeply, evenly, peacefully. She had the suspicion that he wouldn’t be so peaceful when he woke up, and she suddenly felt a chill of apprehension when she thought of what he might do if he actually caught up with her again. But she shrugged that away, and bent to press her soft lips against his warm forehead. Then she quietly shut and locked the door behind her as she left.

  The lock on the door was an old one, the kind that you needed a key to unlock from either side. As she raced down the stairs, Dee wondered gleefully if he knew how to pick locks. If not, then he was going to have a hell of a time getting that door open, short of bursting through it. Once outside, she scampered nimbly over to his car and let out the air in all the tyres, leaving him a nicely detailed map, hastily drawn, showing him the route to the nearest gas station. She tucked that under a windshield wiper. Those delays might give her as much as an hour more, which was a nice chunk of time.

  After all that, she turned and loped on down the street. When she came to the major four-lane highway that ran roughly north and south/southwest, she began to stick out her thumb. A few cars passed her by and a third began to slow, but she didn’t like the look of the man in the driver’s seat, so she ducked her head and ran left for a block or so. He would have to turn around and get in the other lane to come back after her, and a quick glance back showed that he hadn’t bothered. Then a large truck was barrelling her way, and she stuck out her thumb in an effort to get the trucker’s attention. At first she thought he was going to whizz on by, but then she heard a screeching of brakes and saw it lurch to a stop several yards ahead. Sending up a hopeful prayer, she ran back and just reached the cab of the truck when the passenger door was thrust open and a grizzled head popped out to shout at her cheerfully, “Hey, little punkin, need a ride?”

  “Oh, please!” she shouted back, over the powerful engine’s roar. She was unaware of just how frightened she looked, with her blue eyes almost black and her cheeks flushed red from running. “I’m in a bit of a hurry!”

  “Well, sweet thing, climb on up and have a seat!” he roared, backing up so that she could haul herself in. She did so tremblingly, secretly amazed at how badly she was shaking. After all, what was there to be worried about? Everything was g
oing her way so far that day. The trucker yelled cheerfully, “I’m going way down south, and you’re welcome for as long as you care to ride!”

  Plopping down breathlessly on the wide seat, Dee took stock of her surroundings and her new friend, and found that she liked both very much. The cab was neatly kept and well dusted, which spoke well for the driver’s habits. The driver himself was around his fifties, with a powerful barrel chest and huge biceps. His face was clean-shaven and his faded blue eyes twinkled in a network of wrinkles from years of long-distance squinting. Dee was observant and quick in her character assessment, and when she saw the gold wedding band on his left hand, she breathed a sigh of relief. He seemed nice enough.

  The truck was lurching forward with a roar, and the driver told her conversationally, “My name’s Chuck, Chuck Greenway, what’s yours, punkin?”

  “Deirdre,” she said loudly, having to speak over the truck’s roar. “But my friends call me Dee.” They hit a hole in the road and she bounced totally off her seat, making Chuck laugh heartily.

  “Why, you ain’t any bigger than my little granddaughter, punkin!” he shouted gustily. “What’s a sweet thing like you doin’ hitch-hiking around? Don’t you know that’s a good way to get hurt?”

  “I’m running away!” she yelled blithely. “My boy-friend’s gotten a little rough with me lately, and I don’t like being hit about! I’m going to try and get home to my grandparents, in Missouri.” It was as good a story as any, she shrugged. Maybe she could make Mike Carridine out as being the cruel boy-friend. It was a satisfying contemplation.

  “That’s bad, that’s real bad! Why, I’d guess one good puff of wind would knock you down, sweet thing, let alone a good slap in the face!” said Chuck with a ready sympathy, shaking his grey head soberly. “You reckon he’s gonna come after you?”