by Helen Conrad
“No kidding?” The image she created of her brothers was not one he relished. He hoped they weren’t going to show up for the shotgun wedding. Or better yet, that he wasn’t. “Sort of a hard liner, is he?”
“Airborne.”
“Ah yes, the Airborne one.”
“The others are Rangers.”
“So you said.”
“Except for the one who’s at the Colorado School of Mines. He’s a geologist. He couldn’t make it home for the wedding.”
“Oh.”
“But they all think it’s a darn shame the way you’ve been stringing poor little Carrie Ann along all these months.”
He got the picture, unpleasant as it was. He was stuck, unless he figured a way out. She didn’t say anymore and he forced himself to relax. Though she wasn’t giving away the destination at this point, he had a feeling they were in for a lot more driving. He was going to have time to think up some way to get out of this, some plan, preferably before the mythically proportioned brothers became a factor. It had to be a better thought out plan than the last attempt. A good, clean, plan. And then he was going to have to execute it. It looked like a long, tense night ahead of them.
One nice thing about this situation, Jackie thought as the hum of the engine and the rhythm of the wheels on the road was all that filled the air between them, was that she had an excuse to sit here and stare at him instead of into the black night. She had to admit, he was pretty good looking—for a lying, cheating, philanderer.
That was the frustrating thing about men. From what she’d seen, it wasn’t easy to tame them. Her brothers had gone through their wild phases too, and each had to be snapped out of it by some pretty firm measures, some of which she’d had a hand in applying herself. She’d seen enough to know a woman took her chances when she gave her heart away. Luckily, she hadn’t found herself in that situation. In all her twenty-four years, she’d never even been tempted.
Of course, the run of men they usually got in Jathra County was not much to brag about. Her brothers were pretty much the cream of the crop. She had gone away to college, but she’d been on scholarship and working and had been so busy trying to get through in two thirds the usual time that she hadn’t had any energy left over for romance.
Years earlier, she’d had an ideal man in mind. She liked to call him “the lumberjack with a heart of gold.” He was kind of a variation on the old Paul Bunyon myth. A legend who brought you candy.
But time had chugged on by and no one fitting the description had shown up on her doorstep. Little by little she’d stopped thinking about it and now, the dream was pretty much gone. She had a full, happy life. She didn’t need Paul Bunyon, with or without his blue ox.
The man driving her car at the moment was no Paul Bunyon. The men in her family were huge, beefy guys, with massive biceps and necks like bridge pilings. This man was not like that. He was tall, over six feet, and built long and wiry rather than thick and meaty. He seemed strong enough. But he wasn’t used to physical challenges. She’d had no real trouble holding him off back at the apartment, mostly because she knew how to maneuver to counter his male strength. She’d had a lot of practice fighting off angry brothers in her younger days when teasing prepubescent males was her main hobby. Still, he seemed like a quick learner and certainly seemed smart enough to become a problem in time. It was a good thing they only had an hour or so more to go.
The weapon felt heavy in her lap and she shifted, putting it in a new position. She’d grown up with guns and had no real fear of them—though she did have a healthy respect. And she’d been telling the truth about winning shooting contests. She knew how to handle firearms and could be quite convincing.
But what would happen if he ever realized the thing wasn’t loaded? She was determined to get him home to marry Carrie Ann, but she wasn’t an idiot—and she certainly didn’t want to risk a life over it. Still, as long as he believed she might, she would be okay.
“Is there anything out there?” he muttered, staring into the blackness of the night. “No towns? No nothing?”
“Not through here,” she said. “It’s all desert.”
It had been a while since they’d even seen another car on the highway. They were miles from anyone and anything.
Alone. Scary word.
She twisted away from it and looked at him again. All in all, he’d turned out to be pretty nice. A lot nicer than she’d expected, after hearing Carrie Ann moan and groan about him for the last six months or so. She wondered how a man like this ever got tangled up with a girl like Carrie Ann. They didn’t seem like much of a match, and he hardly seemed the type to get a girl pregnant and then skip out on her.
Still, you never knew about men. They came in all types.
A huge bug went splat on the windshield and she said, “Ugh! Now I’ll have to wash the car tomorrow.” She threw him a teasing glance. “After the wedding, I guess.”
He grimaced and she liked the way it deepened the grooves alongside his mouth. He had a strong, handsome face, like a fireman or a doctor—not slick and tricky like a casino dealer usually seemed to her. His blue eyes had a nice flash to them and his dark, wavy hair needed a haircut, but looked right for him. She could tell he was reacting to her, but she didn’t think much of it. He had a reputation as a womanizer. She would have been surprised if he hadn’t found her attractive. She found him attractive, too. But it hardly mattered what she thought. He was going to be married to Carrie Ann in a few hours.
“The wedding,” he was saying sarcastically. “I suppose that’s my wedding you’re talking about?”
“Yours and Carrie Ann’s.”
She watched his reaction. It was so obvious he was trying to think of a way to escape. And what man wouldn’t be, at this point? He was bound to do something eventually. She just had to hang tough and be ready for anything.
“So tell me,” he said after another pause. “What’s this Carrie Ann like?” Glancing over, he met her gaze for a second. “If she’s appealing enough, maybe I’ll marry her just for the hell of it.”
She frowned to discourage sarcastic humor. This was a serious situation. There was a baby involved. “You know very well what she’s like.”
“Indulge me. Pretend you believe I’m really not Jason.”
It seemed silly, but she was willing enough. “Carrie Ann is pretty and redheaded and short. Just your type, obviously. Or you wouldn’t have dated her for this long and then made a baby with her.”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, staring out into the darkness. “Short, huh? I find I’m growing rather partial to long legs, myself.”
She knew right away he was referring to hers, and she found heat filling her face. She wasn’t sure why. Other men complimented her now and then. But there was something about the way he said it, and the way he kept glancing over at her, letting his blue-eyed gaze slide down the length of her legs every time….
“How about some music?” she suggested quickly, to break the mood she felt developing between them. This was Carrie Ann’s man and she wasn’t going to let herself forget it.
“Sure. Why not?” He watched her lean forward to turn on the radio and wondered if she was a little bit country, crazy ‘bout her rock and roll, or an easy listening gal. He was betting on country when she switched on the radio and the preset station came on. Beethoven’s Seventh filled the car, startling him.
“Oh, I love this,” she cried, a look of pure joy on her face. Then she turned to him. “Do you mind classical music? I know it bugs some people.”
“Not at all. Good old Beethoven’s my main man,” he quipped, stealing a look at her pretty face with its wild frame of blond hair.
“This time of night there’s not much else on,” she said apologetically. “There’s a talk show out of Del Rio Texas, but they talk mostly about flying saucers and stuff I’m not really interested in.”
“Classical is fine.”
“I love it.” She glanced at him, looking as though
she knew an explanation was needed. “I used to take piano when I was young and that introduced me to so much.” She listened for a moment, then reached out and turned the knob clock-wise. “I love this part. It’s best really loud, so that it just pours over you.”
The music poured all right, and splashed and flooded, booming throughout the car, and he stole a few more glances at her. She was transfixed by the power of it. If she closed her eyes, even for a moment, he was ready to strike.
But it didn’t happen, and his mind suddenly veered off course and brought him the image of Julia again. She loved Classical, too. She was always dragging him to concerts that put him to sleep. But wait. Julia didn’t really love Classical. She loved being thought to love Classical. Somehow he had a feeling that the love coming from Jackie was a little more genuine.
And kind of a surprise, for a country girl.
“Anyway,” he said to her as the strings subsided and a softer melody prevailed, “You shouldn’t be asking me things like whether or not I like your music selection. You’re the kidnapper, remember? You’re supposed to be mean and nasty.”
“Why should I be mean and nasty? I’m never mean and nasty.” She shrugged, frowning. She didn’t like the picture he was painting. “I’m tough. But not mean and nasty.” She glanced back at him and made a face. “Anyway, I’m not a kidnapper.”
“You’re not?” He grunted and shook his head. Here he thought he’d been kidnapped. He’d sort of been getting used to the idea. “Then what exactly would you call what is happening here?”
She put her head to the side, considering. “Just think of me as your guilty conscience. I’m just using a little persuasion to get you to do what you know, deep down, that you should be doing anyway.”
If he were Jason. But he wasn’t.
“So you think of yourself as an enforcer.”
She sighed. That wasn’t quite as bad as a kidnapper, but still….
Before she could counter with another idea, she noticed the bright, jarring neon of the truck stop ahead, an island of light in a desert sea of darkness.
“Oh, we’re at Dinah’s already. Pull in. We might as well get gas while we’re at it.”
He’d seen that the needle was almost on empty and he’d wondered what she would do if they ran out, but now that was going to be a moot point. He turned the Camaro into the brightly lit station and went right up to the pump. Then his blood began to tingle with adrenaline, because he knew this was going to be another opportunity to turn the tables on her. It was getting late in the game. It had to be done. All he needed was an opening.
CHAPTER THREE
Switching off the engine, Michael turned in his seat so that he could look at Jackie. She was looking better and better to him. Right now her wispy blond hair was falling over her eyes, giving her a slightly sleepy look, and her full lower lip was wet, as though she’d just licked it, and he felt a surge of desire for her that was going to become too obvious if he wasn’t careful.
But when he glanced down at the gun, he saw something else. A large, purple winged insect had come in through the newly opened window and landed on her thigh.
“Hold still,” he told her, forgetting about the gun. He reached out quickly, grabbed the thing and flung it out the window. “There,” he said. “You okay?” His fingers were on her inner thigh again, checking for bites, and she shivered, but she didn’t answer. He raised his gaze and met hers, his fingers still trailing across her skin. Shock sizzled between them and held. For a long, long moment, neither one could look away. She wanted to say something, to push his hand away, anything, but she felt hypnotized, like a cobra being serenaded into a trance by the snake charmer.
She’d pulled the gun to her hip when he’d first reached for the insect, but by now, she’d forgotten all about it. His eyes were so deep, so blue. All she could see were the stars in his mysterious eyes, all she could feel was the heat of his hand on her cool skin. Something was trembling deep inside her, making her feel very strange.
Finally she drew on all her strength and moved, pulling her leg away from his hand, murmuring something he couldn’t quite hear, looking out the window as though some help might be lurking in the shadows of the station. But she shivered again, and he saw it. It made his heart thump a little harder.
He turned away, too, and took a deep breath. This was no way to plan an escape. If he didn’t watch out, he was going to find he liked it in captivity. Steeling himself, he turned back, ready for business.
“Are you going to pump the gas or am I?” he asked her, knowing holding a gun on him was going to be awkward for her, either way.
She hesitated, and then her face cleared. “Neither,” she said with a quick grin and a wave toward someone behind him. “We’re in luck. My brothers are already here to help us.”
He turned his head quickly and saw two huge men, one blond and one with dark hair, each with a chest that you could set dinner on, coming toward the car. He braced himself, and the adrenaline went into warp speed. If he couldn’t even take on their sister, what was he going to do with these two?
“Hey Craig!” the dark haired one called to the other as he came within talking distance. “Lookit’ what Jackie’s got.”
“I see him, Troy,” the blonde responded, coming around the side of the car and leaning in at Jackie’s window to take a look. “That him?” he asked her, gesturing toward Michael with his head.
“That’s him,” she told them, looking smug.
“Weasel!” Troy ejected.
“Skunk!” Craig chimed in from the other window.
Michael jumped reflexively and drew back, tensing, ready to defend himself, but then he realized they weren’t looking at him. They weren’t even talking to him. To his utter amazement, their disgust was directed at their sister. They were both glaring at her.
“You doctored the directions, didn’t you?” Troy demanded. “You cheated. You knew where he was and you sent us on a wild goose chase.”
She smiled with the happy, satisfied smile a sister has when she knows she’s outsmarted her siblings.
“I can’t help it if you two just aren’t as savvy a trapper as I am, now can I? I found him fair and square. He’s all mine.”
Michael looked at her hopefully. “I thought I was Carrie Ann’s,” he mused softly out of the side of his mouth.
“Later,” she told him, giving him a quelling look before turning back to her brothers. “Listen, pump us some gas, will you? I’m going to take him on up to the house. You two go into town and get Carrie Ann. And don’t forget the preacher.”
“Okay.” Troy hesitated at the window while Craig started filling her tank for her. “You going to need any help with this guy?” he asked his sister, giving Michael barely a glance. “I could take him if you’re tired of him.”
Michael waited, watching her face. She met his gaze for a fraction of a second, then shook her head coolly. “No, I’ll take him. I’m fine with him.”
“Okay.” He started to go, then leaned back. “Hey,” he asked her. “Have you seen Jeremy? He wasn’t at the meeting point.”
She shook her head but didn’t look concerned. “He’ll show up.”
“Yea.” Troy frowned as he noticed something and leaned further in the window. “Hey, what happened to your shirt?”
“Hmm?” She pulled it closer together. “Nothing.”
Craig left off pumping gas and came to take a look as well. He looked at Jackie, then looked at Michael and grimaced. “You weren’t trying to get amorous with Jackie, were you?” he asked menacingly, his blue eyes suddenly steel hard and cold.
Troy nodded knowingly. “I’ll bet he was. You know what his reputation is like. You’ve heard the things Carrie Ann says about him.”
They stood staring coldly at Michael who was trying to think of something pleasant to say, something to turn them from attack dogs back into friendly hounds. He gave them a feeble smile.
“It was nothing like that,” he said. “I was ju
st trying to get away. You can’t blame me for that, can you?”
From their grim faces, it looked like maybe they could.
Troy leaned in to give him a closer inspection. “I don’t know. I don’t see any wounds on him.” He frowned, looking Michael over carefully. “No teeth marks or blood,” he murmured.
“I was gentle,” Jackie said placidly, a sparkle of laughter lighting her eyes.
Michael’s smile wavered. “Wounds?” he repeated, looking from one brother to the other. “What are you talking about?”
Troy looked him in the eye and seemed to decide to deal with this, man to man. “Well, you see, our little sister here has never been one for romance. There was a time when we had young bucks sniffing around after her all season long. My brothers and me, we would give them friendly little warnings, you know. Tell ‘em Jackie was still in her tomboy stage and didn’t want a boyfriend. But they would never believe us.”
Craig nodded. “Naw. And too bad, too. They should have learned to take our advice. Because when they didn’t, they ended up dealing with her.” He jerked a thumb in his sister’s direction. “She’s tougher than most men,” he told Michael as though in confidence. “And when a guy tries to get fresh with her, she has her own ways of dealing with it.”
“Remember old Donner Williams?” Troy said, nodding. “He tried to get into her pants at the Steamer Picnic last year. She bit his ear off.”
Michael twitched and looked nervously at Troy. “She bit his ear off?”
“Sure,” he said. He grinned as though relishing the memory. “And he deserved it.”
Jackie rolled her eyes and gave a heavy sigh. “Oh, don’t listen to them. It wasn’t that bad.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “The ear wasn’t bit all the way off. It was still hanging there, last time I saw it.”
“Still hanging there,” Michael repeated hollowly, feeling a little green around the gills. “Gee, lucky guy.”