Lust. She swallowed hard and steadied her hands as she got the shot of Barbara with her books. The last shot of the afternoon, she thought gratefully. Lust. Maybe that’s all it was. And maybe if she kept reminding herself of that she’d eventually believe it and snap out of it.
Lust. Meaningless, forgettable lust.
But why now? And why, of all the men on earth, did she have to feel it for this one?
Chapter Nine
“Next stop, Charleston,” Bolt announced as they approached the entrance to the freeway the following morning.
He seemed to be in a slightly better mood today, Cat observed. It was really a shame she had to ruin it.
“Uh, not exactly,” she said.
He shot her an impatient look. “What do you mean, not exactly? I have the list right here.” He pulled it from his jeans pocket and recited from it without looking at it. “Baltimore, Charlottesville, Charleston. Then Dixie Union, wherever in Hades that is, and home. Isn’t that the list you gave me?”
He pushed it at her. Cat gave it a perfunctory glance.
“Yes, it is. But there’s been a slight change in plans. An addition, so to speak.”
“Sorry,” he retorted. “We had a deal. No changes, no additions.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Cat replied, feeling her back stiffen as if for battle. “But I really have to insist on making this particular stop. It’s very important to me.”
“And getting home as fast as possible is very important to me.”
“It will only take one extra day.”
“No.”
“How can you say no without even knowing what it is?”
“Easy. No. In fact it’s easier if I don’t know what it is, so don’t tell me.”
“You’re unbelievable. How could the same man be so reasonable back in Vermont and so pigheaded now?”
He shrugged. “Change in altitude?”
“If you ask me, a change in attitude is more like it. Your attitude, to be specific.”
“Is there some hidden meaning in there? If so, you did such a good job of hiding it that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then let me spell it out for you. I think you’re being stubborn about this now for the same reason you’ve spent the past two days sulking...because I refused to go to bed with you.”
He glanced at her, his lips a narrow line. “That was a cheap shot. And I haven’t been sulking. Hell, I even told you I was sorry about what happened.”
“You never did.”
He looked surprised, then sheepish. “I didn’t? I meant to. It’s the truth—I am sorry.”
“Sorry about what happened or what didn’t?”
“Both, I guess,” he admitted with a grudging twist of his lips that was as close to a smile as she hoped to get. “Mostly I’m sorry because I never should have put you in that position. Not that it really matters. Being sorry doesn’t change the way I feel.”
“How do you feel?” she asked quietly, knowing she shouldn’t.
His grip tightened on the wheel as he shot her a sardonic look. “How do you think? I want you as much now as I did the other night. Maybe more. But I’m dealing with it, okay? And my way of dealing with it is to just pull back completely.”
“You don’t have to do that. There’s no reason we can’t—”
He cut her off. “Be friends? Buddies? Trust me, that’s not possible. This is my way of handling things, the only way I know, so leave it alone.” He almost smiled at her again. “Okay?”
“Okay.” She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “And I’m sorry I accused you of...you know, trying to get back at me for saying no.”
He nodded.
“But I was desperate.” She wet her lips. “Bolt, this stop I want to make is really important to me.”
Bolt sighed.
“I know it will mean arriving in Florida a day later than we planned and going a little out of our way, but—”
“How little out of our way?” he interrupted to ask.
“Just a couple of inches. I checked the map before we left.”
“In miles, Cat,” he said, sounding as if he was exasperated, but weakening. “Tell me how far in miles. Better yet, just tell me where it is you want to go this time.”
“Virginia Beach,” she said and held her breath waiting for his response.
It wasn’t long in coming, or much of a surprise.
“Virginia Beach,” he shouted. “Do you realize that’s all the way back on the coast?”
“Most beaches are,” she agreed, feeling a little less nervous now that he was shouting. Years of dealing with Uncle Hank told her that from this point it was simply a matter of holding on and riding out his temper, and she would be on her way to getting what she wanted. “Charleston is on the coast, too.”
“But at a different angle from where we are now.”
“It’s the same coast,” she reminded him, rolling her eyes.
“But miles apart. Literally. Take my word for it.” He pushed air from between his lips in a disgruntled rush. “Why couldn’t you have told me you wanted to go to Virginia Beach while we were in Baltimore...which is also on the east coast, in case you’ve forgotten?”
“Because I only decided I wanted to go there after we got to Charlottesville. Besides, if I had told you in Baltimore we still would have had to drive inland to get to Charlottesville. If you look at the map you’ll see it’s like traveling in a big triangle.”
“A triangle, huh? Then why do I feel like I’m going in circles all the time?” he demanded, his voice dripping sarcasm.
“I don’t know,” Cat retorted. “Maybe your equilibrium is off from lack of sleep.”
“I’m sleeping just fine,” he told her. “But thanks for your concern just the same.” He shook his head. “Virginia Beach.”
“Actually, it’s a small town south of Norfolk just before you reach Virginia Beach. I wrote out the directions and route numbers for you.”
She held out the paper she’d written them on.
Bolt slid his glance from the road to the paper, then to meet hers. Finally he took the paper from her hand. Cat sighed inwardly with relief. He was going to do it. She was on her way to Baxter, Virginia, a place she’d never thought she’d want to visit.
“So who’s in...Baxter, is it?” he asked, darting a glance at the directions in his hand.
“Right. Baxter.”
“Who’s in Baxter that we have to go out of our way to see?”
Taking a deep breath, Cat replied, “My parents.”
His head twisted in her direction, his expression one of astonishment. “But I thought—”
“I don’t mean we’re going to see my parents,” she explained hurriedly, before he had to ask any awkward questions. “I’m sure my uncle told you that they were killed in an accident when I was five.”
“The general told me they died when you were very young and that he raised you after that. That’s about it.” He slanted her a self-effacing smile. “I guess he doesn’t like to talk much about personal stuff any more than I do.”
“Don’t think it’s escaped me that the two of you have a number of personality defects in common,” Cat told him. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he was your role model.”
He shrugged. “I figured I could do worse.”
“You figured right,” Cat agreed, her tone softening as a small smile claimed her mouth. “We’ve had our ups and downs, but Uncle Hank is the best.”
“Don’t look now,” he advised, his deep voice becoming conspiratorial, “but I think we may have found something we agree on.”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
“Deal.”
Their laughter blended and was carried away on the breeze that cooled their faces and whipped Cat’s hair no matter how tightly she anchored it in a ponytail. The tangles were the price she paid for the joy of riding with the top down. All of a sudden the strain of the past couple of days seemed
to be gone, and she was a bit jolted by how relieved and happy that made her.
“So tell me what connection your parents had to the town of Baxter,” he said.
“The accident that killed them happened there,” Cat replied, swallowing hard on the lump of painful emotions that just the mention of her parents’ tragic death inevitably brought to her throat. “At a two-lane intersection outside of town. They were on their way to do a show in Virginia Beach when they evidently got lost on the back roads. It was late at night and raining and another car turned and hit them head-on. They both died instantly.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to go dredging up bad memories. I know how that feels.”
“It’s all right, really. If I’m going there to learn more about the accident, I have to expect to talk about it. And I can’t go choking up every time I do.”
“Sounds to me like you already know most of the crucial details. What more do you hope to learn by visiting Baxter?”
“I didn’t mean learn in that way. I do know all the facts and details about the accident itself. Uncle Hank has always been very up front and direct with me about anything concerning my parents. If I had questions, he answered them.” She smiled affectionately. “And boy, did I have questions.”
“That’s only natural. They were your parents. And you don’t have any brothers or sisters, right?”
“No.” An old familiar sadness touched her. “My mother was pregnant when she died, but I was their first and only up to that point. Uncle Hank is really all the family I have...and vice versa.”
“Like I said a few minutes ago, both of you could do a lot worse.”
“I suppose. When I was little, I would sometimes pretend that I had a sister somewhere who for some reason no one ever knew about, or else that the baby had miraculously survived the accident, but they could never get hold of Uncle Hank to tell him and that one day she would just show up on our doorstep.” She smiled. “Of course, she never did.”
“Funny,” Bolt said, his tone an ironic counterpoint to her wistfulness, “I sometimes used to pretend that someone showed up at my door to tell us that all my brothers and sisters really didn’t belong there and take them all away. Then I would get to have my own room, a bike that wasn’t second or third hand, my own dog, not to mention my folks’ undivided attention once in a while.”
“I had my own room and dog and bike and much too much of my uncle’s undivided attention for my taste.” She grinned, one eyebrow arched mischievously. “Is it too late to trade childhoods?”
“Much too late for one of us, Tiger,” he replied, a rueful note in his voice. “Hell, it’s been a long time since I thought about those days.”
“You may not have thought so at the time, but you were very lucky to be part of a big family that loved you.”
“I guess it’s the old ‘the grass is always greener’ scenario, huh?”
“Except that the grass really was greener at your house,” she insisted. “It’s always better to have two parents and brothers and sisters, people who care about you and share your memories. And your dreams.”
“I know. I joke about it, but I know you’re right. I remember going home every Christmas and how good it felt to be back in that narrow bed in my old room, with my brother snoring away in the next bed, his radio tuned to a station I hated.” He paused thoughtfully. “I spent a lot of time in a lot of ugly places, wondering if I was ever going to see that room again.”
“You said you remembered going back home for Christmas as if you don’t go any longer,” she remarked, curious.
“I don’t. I couldn’t make it home one Christmas a couple of years back. I was stuck in a hospital with a broken back, and since then I...I just don’t go, that’s all.”
“A broken back...” Cat winced. “That hurts just to think about. How—”
“An explosion,” he said before she finished the question. “I didn’t move quickly enough. That’s the whole story.”
She doubted that, but she’d learned enough about him not to press.
“So your back healed and you haven’t been home for Christmas since,” she said, taking an only a slightly less nosy approach to finding out more about him. “Is there some sort of trouble between you and your family?”
“Nope. The trouble’s all with me.”
He flashed a grin that said he knew he’d piqued her curiosity and had no intention of satisfying it. Cat resisted the impulse to stick her tongue out at him. She had a suspicion he considered her too young to be taken very seriously, and she refused to add to that impression. She wasn’t a child and she didn’t want Bolt to think of her as one.
“Now tell me what it was like growing up with old Lucifer in charge,” he urged.
“Like perpetual boot camp,” she retorted.
He laughed. “No surprises there.”
“Actually, he was wonderful to me. He still is...in spite of a tendency to be overprotective.”
“Just one of those little faults that add to his charm,” he suggested wryly.
“Yeah, right. At least I can laugh at it now. Let me tell you, at sixteen I found him a whole lot less charming. But then,” she continued with a philosophical shrug, “I suspect that’s true of all sixteen-year-old girls and their fathers. I may call him Uncle Hank, but for all practical purposes, he’s been my father for seventeen years.”
“It couldn’t have been easy for the general, either,” Bolt remarked. “Having to step into the role of father with no experience and no warning.”
“I know. And I can’t imagine anyone doing a better job. He took care of all my physical needs, of course, a home and schooling, but he also took care of the hundreds and hundreds of other little things that it usually takes a mother and father to handle. Things that someone else who had a bratty niece dumped on them might have ignored.” Her smile was rueful. “He may not have handled all of those little things the way I wished he would at the time, but then, I’m sure my parents wouldn’t have, either. Uncle Hank always made me feel loved and protected and wanted, and that’s what counts.”
The traffic was light and Bolt was able to take his eyes off the road long enough to give her a reassuring smile. “I don’t know how bratty you were to start with, but the finished product is a credit to you both. I think he deserves to be named father of the year.”
“Thanks,” she murmured.
She was blushing. Cat couldn’t believe it. Of all the dumb things to blush about, she thought, searching for something to say to ease the silence that followed his unexpected compliment.
“He wasn’t merely a great father,” she said. “He was a great substitute father, and I think sometimes that’s much tougher. He was great at it because he never forgot that he was a substitute and he never let me forget it either.
“Uncle Hank is the one who’s kept my parents’ memory alive for me all these years,” she continued. “He talked to me about them when everyone else was afraid to bring up the subject around me. He answered all my questions about the accident and he would tell me stories about my mother when she was a little girl. I liked his stories better than all the fairy tales in my books. He told me about how she always wanted to be a dancer and about how she met my father and joined his act, instead.”
“What sort of act?”
“Magic,” she said, the word alone capturing all the wonder and excitement of her memories. “He called himself the Inexplicable Bandini.”
“Catchy,” Bolt said without much enthusiasm.
Cat laughed. “What can I say? He was a child of the sixties and you know how that was.”
“Please, I’m not that old.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-five,” he said.
“Thirteen years older than me,” she countered after rapidly doing the calculation. “My father was twelve years older than my mother.”
“No kidding?” he said without expression.
“Anyway, my mother was a dancer at the
time they met, an aspiring dancer, that is. They met at an audition in New York and fell in love. She wanted to join his act and her parents put their foot down.” She pursed her lips, her head tipped to one side. “Feet down? Whatever. They were both teachers and, according to Uncle Hank, they thought having a dancer for a daughter was bad enough, they weren’t about to have one who earned her living by getting sawed in half nightly.”
“I can’t say as I blame them for that.”
“I can. When you’re as much in love as my parents were, nothing else matters.”
“So did your mother go ahead and join the act in spite of their opposition?”
“Of course,” she replied, puzzled that he even had to ask. “I told you, they were in love. They ran away and got married and the rest, as they say, is history.” Her exhilarated expression clouded.
“At least it should have been history,” she amended. “It would have been except for the accident. The job in Virginia Beach was their last road appearance before they started a big run in New York City. My father had told Uncle Hank just a few weeks before he died that their agent had almost closed a deal for them to appear at Radio City Music Hall. Can you imagine? My father, the Inexplicable Bandini, at Radio City Music Hall?”
She smiled, staring without seeing at the road ahead. “Uncle Hank says he was as good as Copperfield. Maybe better. If he had lived...” She faltered, blinking back the tears that were stinging her eyes. “You know what I wish most?” she asked softly.
“What?” Bolt countered, his voice low, almost rough.
“I wish they had used camcorders back then the way they do today. I wish I had a tape of them, of their act.” She grinned suddenly. “I’ve always had a hunch that Uncle Hank got it wrong, that any parents of mine would be closer to Penn and Teller than Copperfield.”
“That would help explain the inexplicable,” he said.
“Ooh,” she groaned. “Bad joke.”
“What can I say? Driving does that to me.”
“How about letting me take a turn?”
He shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m okay for now. I’ll tell you when I need a break.”
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