Drive Me Wild

by Julie Ortolon

  He wanted to shake her, to tell her she couldn’t save the whole world no matter how hard she tried. But he wouldn’t shake her, because if he put his hands on her, he’d pull her up against his aching groin, cover her mouth with his, and kiss her till they both went weak and breathless.

  Damn! He drained his glass of melted ice and whiskey.

  Just then someone burst through the front door, allowing in some much-needed night air. “Hey, JJ!” the newcomer called. Brent looked up to see Jimmy Joe’s lifelong sidekick, Bobby. “Wait’ll you get a load of what’s out in the parking lot.”

  “Do you mind?” Jimmy Joe growled. “I’m lining up a shot.”

  “Yeah, but you gotta see—” Bobby broke off when he caught sight of Brent. “Holy shit.” His boyish face split with a grin. At thirty-three years old, Bobby still looked like the runt of the litter with his curly brown hair and pug nose. “Hey’ya, Brent. Long time no see.”

  “Bobby.” Brent nodded in return as he jangled the ice cubes in his glass.

  “Jesus,” Jimmy Joe cursed. “You think y’all could talk a little louder?”

  “Yeah, sure, no problem,” Bobby said in a raised voice. He looked back at Brent and grinned. “I guess I ain’t gotta ask who she belongs to.” He nodded toward the parking lot, indicating the Porsche.

  “Guess not.” Brent smiled, feeling an admittedly juvenile but very satisfying thrill of ownership.

  “Shit!” Jimmy Joe said as he missed his shot. Straightening, he glared at Bobby. “You mind telling me what was so all-fired important for you to bust my concentration?”

  “Nothing.” Bobby sent Brent a wink. “Just some old junker I seen in the parking lot.”

  “Then do you mind shutting up while we play some pool?”

  “No, you go right ahead, Jimmy Joe.”

  “Hey, Bobby.” Darlene straightened on her bar stool in a way that called attention to her breasts.

  “Yeah, eh…” Bobby looked at everything in the room but Darlene. “Hi.”

  “Jimmy Joe was just asking me if I’d seen you earlier.” She leaned back with her arms along the bar as she swung her crossed legs. “While I was out, you know … getting some air.”

  “Oh?” Bobby shifted nervously, leaving little doubt as to who had been in the backseat of the car when Laura and Brent had arrived. “What’d you tell him?”

  “What d’ya think I told him?”

  Bobby’s eyes darted from Jimmy Joe to Brent to the pool table. “Hey, I get to play the winner.”

  Shaking his head, Brent turned his concentration back to the game. As long as his winning streak held, he wouldn’t have to sit next to Laura. If he didn’t sit by her, or talk to her, or look at her too often, he might convince his hormones to cool off.

  —

  Laura realized Brent had been right; the place had been empty when they arrived because it was early. As the evening progressed, the tables around the dance floor began to fill. Smoke thickened the air as a lazy, mournful tune whined from the jukebox. Most of the patrons were men of various ages who’d apparently come to drink beer and gripe about their wives. Still, an occasional couple wandered in. Some of them even ventured onto the dance floor.

  She watched longingly as a couple swayed back and forth to a Garth Brooks tune. She’d hoped to dance with Brent tonight and probably would have if they’d stayed at the country club. Then she could have danced and talked with him all evening.

  Instead they’d come here.

  And Brent had played pool.

  She shouldn’t have felt resentful—since coming to Snake’s had been her idea, but Brent had ignored her all evening. No, he’d more than ignored her; he’d avoided her. She wanted to ask if he was angry but couldn’t get his attention long enough to do even that.

  “Hey, honey,” Snake called to her, “you want another whiskey?”

  Laura glanced at the lonely ice cubes in her glass. With nothing to do but sit on a bar stool and chat with Darlene, who talked of nothing but getting drunk and boffing boys, or visit with Roy, who didn’t talk at all, Laura feared she may have had a few too many whiskey and sevens already.

  “No, thanks,” she said. “I think I’ll take a little trip to the ladies room.”

  As she climbed down from her bar stool, the floor shifted beneath her feet, and she decided she’d definitely had a bit too much to drink. With careful tread, she made her way to the rest room, where she removed the cameo at her throat and unfastened a few buttons of her blouse. Feeling stuffy and warm, she pressed a damp paper towel to her throat and studied her reflection in the mirror. No wonder Brent was ignoring her. Next to Darlene, she was practically invisible.

  Digging through her purse, she came up with some blush and a darker shade of lipstick. She combed her hair but decided that created the opposite effect from what she wanted. So she bent forward to brush it upside down. Flinging her head back as she straightened up made the room spin, and she grabbed the sink, laughing as she steadied herself. A glance in the mirror told her she’d gotten rid of the paleness, even if she was a little dizzy. For good measure, she rolled up her sleeves, undid one more button to show a hint of cleavage, and headed back to the bar.

  One way or another, she would get Brent’s attention.

  “Hey there, pretty lady.”

  “Oh!” She jumped when Jimmy Joe stepped in front of her. “You scared me.”

  “Well, that’s the last thing I’d want to do to a pretty thing like you.” Leaning one arm against the wall of the narrow passage, he let his gaze sweep over her. “Yes indeed, the last thing I’d want to do to you.”

  His sheer arrogance made her smile. “If you’re looking for Darlene, she’s over at the bar.”

  “Now why would I be looking for some little girl when I’ve got me a fine-looking woman standing right here?” He leaned forward to curl a hand about her waist. The earthy smell of dirt and sweat filled her nostrils. “What’d’ya say we rub bellies on the dance floor? Why, my belt buckle is just begging to be shined.”

  If anyone else had asked her to dance in so crude a fashion, she’d have given them a cool stare and walked away. But Jimmy Joe had a way of smiling right into a woman’s eyes that made the proposal seem more like a compliment. For one split second, she considered dancing with him, then laughed. “No, I better not.”

  “Now why would you go and break my heart like that?”

  “Because, Mr. Dean, for all your charm, I get the distinct impression that Brent doesn’t like you very much.”

  “Actually,” Jimmy Joe flashed a grin, “Brent hates my ever-loving guts. Which is exactly why you should dance with me.”

  “That,” she said, “makes absolutely no sense.”

  “Sure it does, considering that he’s practically making it with my sweet Darlene on that pool table over there.”

  Laura looked past Jimmy Joe to the pool table, and everything inside her went cold.

  —

  Brent braced one hand on the pool table and planted the other firmly in the middle of Darlene’s back as she jerked him forward. All the while he prayed that if the twit lost her balance she’d have the sense to unclamp her teeth from his lower lip. He had to admit, she was quicker than she looked. And stronger, he added, as she wrapped her legs about his waist.

  “Mmm,” she purred, and slowly released his lip. Her head fell back as she sat upright on the edge of the pool table. “That was really wow.”

  “Look, sweetheart—” He tried to untangle her arms from around his neck. “I’m flattered, really, but—”

  “What’s the matter?” She pouted as she locked her ankles at the small of his back and ground her crotch against his. “Don’t you like to do it?”

  “I love to do it, just not with little girls who are barely out of diapers.”

  “I’m old enough,” she insisted as her nimble fingers attacked the buttons of his shirt. “Old enough to know all kinds of things. Care to find out?”

  “Actually, no
.” He grabbed her wrists and held them firmly away from his chest. She reeked of stale smoke and beer. “In case you haven’t noticed, I already have a date. So why don’t you run along and practice your tricks on someone who’ll appreciate them? Like Jimmy Joe.”

  “Cain’t.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “Jimmy Joe gets real ornery if I bother him while he’s busy. And right now, he looks real busy … dancing with your girlfriend.”

  Brent jerked his head toward the dance floor and froze. Laura was locked in the arms of Jimmy Joe, the most disreputable lowlife ever to darken Snake’s door. Their bodies rubbed together from shoulder to knee as they swayed to the immortal sounds of Patsy Cline. Laura wiggled, at first, he thought, to get some respectable distance. Then the couple turned so Laura faced him. For a fraction of a second, she went still. He thought she’d seen his warning look, but he must have been mistaken. The next thing he knew, she molded herself against Jimmy Joe as if she’d taken lessons from Darlene.

  Jimmy Joe’s hand wandered downward to cup her bottom. Brent knew the instant the man felt the garter belt beneath Laura’s skirt. Jimmy Joe’s hand went still, his head lifted, and a big smile blossomed on his face.

  Fury exploded inside Brent’s head, blinding him in a red haze as he charged toward the dance floor.

  Laura screamed as Brent slammed into Jimmy Joe, knocking him into the jukebox. The music ended with a ragged screech and Jimmy Joe slid to the floor, shaking his head to clear the stars.

  She stared in shock at Brent, who stood over Jimmy Joe with clenched fists. “Brent! What are you doing?”

  “Get up,” Brent growled at the downed man.

  “No,” Laura cried, rushing to Jimmy Joe’s side. “Stay still till we know if you’re hurt.”

  “Settle down, sugar,” Jimmy Joe said to her, though his eyes never left Brent. “Us boys are just gonna have ourselves a little de-scussion about squatter’s rights. Ain’t that right, ol’ buddy?”

  “Not in my place you ain’t!” Snake hollered from behind the bar. Laura felt a surge of relief that someone the size of Snake was there to stop this nonsense. Then to her disbelief, the bar owner gestured toward the door. “You boys wanna bash each other’s brains out, you take it outside.”

  Laura gaped as Brent kicked Jimmy Joe’s boots. “You gonna lay there all night, lover boy? Or you gonna get up and let me kick your ass?”

  “Just gathering my strength.” Jimmy Joe rolled slowly to a crouch as if barely able to rise. Then he lunged without warning, swinging for Brent’s face.

  Brent ducked and caught his rival with a solid blow to the gut. Jimmy Joe staggered forward, catching Brent in the side with an elbow. Grunting with pain, Brent landed a double-fisted blow in the center of Jimmy Joe’s back, sending the man face-first into the dance floor.

  “Stop!” Laura screamed when Jimmy Joe scrambled to his feet. Snake came toward them with a baseball bat, and everyone in the bar leapt to their feet. Half of the men looked ready to join the fight, and the women looked eager to cheer them on. Laura stepped between the two combatants. “I will not stand by and watch you two behave in this adolescent manner.”

  Brent stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “If you didn’t want me to beat him to a pulp, why the hell’d you start this?”

  “Why did I start it?” She gaped at him.

  “Shit, Brent.” Jimmy Joe laughed. “Don’t these city women know nothing?”

  “You!” She pointed a finger in Jimmy Joe’s face. “Stay out of this.”

  “Sure thing, sugar. But if you don’t wanna see a fight, you got to stick with the guy what brung ya.”

  “What’s that, some redneck credo?” she snapped. “Besides, I didn’t see you throwing a fit when your date locked lips with Brent.”

  “Hell, Darlene ain’t my date. And even if she was, I cain’t very well get riled every time she gets horny. Why, everybody in the county knows she’ll spread her legs for anyone.”

  For one moment Laura just stared at him, not quite believing he’d said that. How could she have thought this ignorant jerk was cute? She turned to Brent and stepped out of the way. “Hit him.”

  Brent pulled back his fist.

  “I said—” Snake stepped between the two men “—take it outside.”

  “I got a better idea,” Bobby piped up. When all eyes turned to him, he grinned. “Why don’t we settle this down at Hangman’s Hollow?”

  Brent glanced at Jimmy Joe, and a light came into his eyes. “Fine by me. If you’re game.”

  “Are you serious?” Jimmy Joe looked as if he’d just been granted his fondest dream. When Brent nodded, JJ rubbed his hands together. “Well, shit, boys, let’s go.”

  Laura stood in confusion as everyone in the bar started filing out the door.

  “Get your purse,” Brent said as he too started to leave.

  “Wait a second.” She grabbed his arm. “Why are we going to Hangman’s Hollow? What are you two planning to do?”

  “Why, settle our grievance in a manly and time-honored tradition, of course.”

  “Which is?”

  “Street race.”

  Chapter 8

  “Okay, Laura, this is where you get out,” Brent said as he pulled to a stop in the middle of the road.

  “What?” Laura turned to stare at him.

  “We’re here.” He gestured to the darkness around them, and she realized they’d arrived at Hangman’s Hollow. To either side of the road, the convoy that had followed them from the bar pulled up their trucks—the noise of their engines and the smell of exhaust broke the stillness of the night, while their headlights illuminated the charred remains of the Hanging Tree.

  “Laura,” Brent said, touching her arm, “did you hear me? I want you to wait here until the race is over.”

  She stared at his face, garishly lit by the headlights, and a sick feeling settled in her stomach. If she let him out of her sight for one second, he’d crash and die. Where that notion came from, she had no idea, but she believed it to the marrow of her bones. “I’m staying.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” He laughed. “This is not some Sunday drive we’re going on. Things could get dangerous.”

  “Exactly,” she said, swallowing down her fear. If she stayed with Brent, he’d be more careful. And if he wasn’t, she’d be there to help him. “I’m staying.”

  “Hey!” Jimmy Joe shouted as he pulled up beside them in a vintage red Mustang Mach I. Beside him, Darlene jumped up and down, making the Mustang rock like a racehorse waiting to shoot from the starting gate. “You ready to get your butt kicked?”

  “Anytime you and that worn-out piece of junk are ready to try,” Brent hollered back.

  As the two men discussed the course, Laura stared into the darkness straight ahead. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. They’d all probably die—yet no force on earth could have pulled her from Brent’s side. After exchanging a few more taunts with Jimmy Joe, Brent turned back to her. “You sure about this?”

  “Positive.” Her fingers tightened on the armrest.

  “All right,” he sighed. “Just make sure your seat belt’s tight.”

  She watched as he tightened his own seat belt, then braced himself with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift. She’d never seen him look so intent, so dangerous. So utterly arousing.

  Bobby, who’d ridden with Jimmy Joe, stepped into the center of the road and raised both his arms. Behind him lay a narrow bridge known as Whispering Bridge, for the ghosts of the hanged dead that supposedly dwelled beneath it. Concrete pilings stood like sentinels to either side, preventing more than one car from crossing the bridge at a time. Whoever took the early lead would hold it until he reached the other side. But what would happen if both cars reached the bridge at the same time? The shouts from the sidelines grew to a roar. Oh, my God. Laura gripped the armrest. We’re all going to die.

  Bobby dropped his hands. Laura’s head snapped back as the Porsche leapt forwar
d, taking the lead. They shot over the bridge and were swallowed by darkness. The road rose and fell, twisted and turned, slinging her from side to side. She glanced behind them, into the headlights of the Mustang.

  “How far are we going?” she shouted over the noise.

  “Around the Simmons farm, then back to the Hanging Tree. Whoever crosses back over the bridge first wins.” He glanced in the rearview mirror as Jimmy Joe’s headlights illuminated his eyes. “Just try to pass me, you son of a bitch.” He jerked the wheel to cut the other car off.

  Laura screamed as she fell against Brent.

  “You all right?” he called, letting go of the gearshift long enough to steady her.

  She stared up at him and saw the gleam in his eyes as he focused once again on the road. “You’re enjoying this,” she shouted over the wind that whipped her hair into her face.

  “Hell yeah, I’m enjoying it! You have any idea how often I dreamed of beating that bragging jackass in a street race? Not that I ever had a chance in that beat-up Nova I used to drive.”

  He jerked the wheel again to cut off the Mustang. Then the road straightened out, and Jimmy Joe swung onto the gravel shoulder. Dust and rocks flew up from the tires as the Mustang pulled even. To Laura’s stunned horror, Darlene leaned out the window, flailing her arms and laughing as she shouted obscene taunts at Brent.

  Laura glanced up ahead, where the road narrowed into another series of turns. “Oh, my God, he’s going to cut you off.”

  “Like hell he is.” Brent pressed the accelerator closer to the floor, pushing the Porsche to the fine line between speed and loss of control. Seeing the determined set of his jaw, something inside Laura stirred to life: a competitive spirit she never knew she had. As stupid and childish as a street race might be, Brent wanted desperately to win, and right then she wanted it for him just as badly. Just once she wanted the misfit kid to trounce the reigning champ.

  But wanting alone couldn’t make it happen. Jimmy Joe jerked his car sideways, and Brent braked rather than let his car be sideswiped. In a cloud of gravel and dirt, the Mustang took the lead. Brent moved from side to side until he found an opening and charged ahead on the curve that would take them around the Simmons farm and back toward the Whispering Bridge. On a straight downhill grade, the Mustang barreled back into the lead. As they jockeyed back and forth, Laura realized the Porsche handled better in the turns, but the heavier car had the advantage on the straightways.