Drive Me Wild

by Julie Ortolon

  To his surprise, she smiled—an impish little grin that made her look incredibly young and unbelievably sexy. “I guess we’re lucky the Guardian Angel of Foolish Boys was on duty last night.”

  “And that his jurisdiction includes idiot men on occasion.” Idly, he ran a thumb over her jaw and felt her shiver. “Anyway, what would you say to driving the Porsche to Houston when it’s fixed?”

  “Me?” Her eyes went wide. “Drive your sports car?”

  “Sure.” He pulled her into a light embrace. “You can drive up on Sunday, stay through Monday, to um,” he nuzzled her neck, “look through the want ads for a job. And I can,” he nibbled her earlobe, “drive you home,” he traced his tongue along the shell of her ear, “Tuesday morning … or so.”

  “Won’t…” He heard her sigh as he kissed the pulse point in her neck. “…Won’t you be working?”

  “Laura,” he chuckled, trailing his lips along her jaw. “I’m an evening anchor. I work two to midnight.”

  “Oh.” She swayed against him as he covered her mouth with his. She tasted of some elusive, salty-sweet flavor he couldn’t quite place, but he gladly would have stood there for hours sampling that soft, luscious mouth.

  Cursing their lack of privacy, he lifted his head and smiled at the sublime expression on her face.

  “Mmm…” She blinked. “I guess I could do that.” He watched as her eyes focused and her mind began to function once more. “That way I could stay with Melody, to see if rooming with her would work out. Sort of like a trial run.”

  “Actually, I was thinking—” He stopped himself short of inviting her to stay with him. No sense in moving ahead too quickly on this dating thing. He loosened his arms, to give his body some space to cool off. “Your, eh, idea sounds perfect. A trial run is always a good idea.”

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind me driving your car. She looked up at him with those heart-stopping blue eyes.”

  “Of course not.” He took another step back. “I mean, you do know how to drive a stick shift, don’t you? No major wrecks, rollovers, or fender benders on your record?”

  “Not even a speeding ticket.” She gave him a knowing smile.

  “Just checking,” he said. “But you will be careful, right?”

  “Of course. All you have to do is give me a call when the car is ready. Although I’ll need a few days’ notice to get everything settled with my dad and all.”

  “Here, let me give you my home address and phone number.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet and scribbled his unlisted number on the back. “The garage has the keys. I’ll call you with directions when the car’s fixed.”

  As he handed her the card, his fingers clamped down on it. Even as she tugged, he couldn’t seem to let go. “You will be careful with my car, right? The gears are very sensitive, and don’t hit the brakes too hard or you’ll go right through the windshield.”

  “I’m sure I can handle it.”

  “Maybe you should drive it around town a few times before you get on the highway, just until you get used to the European steering—”

  “Brent.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll be careful.” She plucked the card out of his hand and gave his lips a quick kiss. When she pulled back, excitement shone in her eyes. “So I guess I’ll see you in a week or two.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  She stood for a moment, long enough for him to think about kissing her again, but something held him back.

  “Well then,” she said, “if that’s it, I’d better get back to helping the others in the clubhouse.”

  He watched her move away, momentarily distracted by the sway of her hips. With a final smile over her shoulder, she disappeared around the corner of the building—and a wave of terror gripped his chest. He wasn’t sure whether it came from the thought of Laura driving his car, or the thought of her moving to Houston.

  Taking slow, steady breaths, he reminded himself she was moving to Houston to get a job, not to chase him down or trap him in a relationship. Besides, he had two weeks to get used to the idea or back out completely.

  Staring in the direction she’d gone, though, he knew he wouldn’t back out. Not yet, anyway. He’d get through this moment of panic the way he got through his first live news report: by concentrating on the present and blocking the future out of his mind.

  Not that he and Laura had a future. At least, not a long-term one. Surely she knew that, though, or she wouldn’t have assured him so strongly of her motive for moving. He had nothing to worry about. They were both adults. Everything would be just fine.

  —

  Two weeks later, Laura came down the stairs with a garment bag and overnight case. Her father stepped into the foyer as she set down her luggage to rifle through her purse for the keys to Brent’s car.

  “So,” her father said, “you’re really going through with this. You actually mean to leave.”

  She glanced up, surprised to hear his voice after so many days of silence. Greg’s stunned reaction to her leaving had been uncomfortable enough, but her father’s disapproval hurt far worse. Since he learned of her plans, they’d hardly spoken a word.

  Resigned to his disapproval, she returned to searching for the keys. “I have several days’ meals labeled in the refrigerator. Instructions for heating are taped to the lids. Your medicine is in your daily pill-minder on the kitchen counter. Although if you’d like,” she hesitated, “I could call you in the evening to remind you.”

  “I can take care of myself, Laura Elizabeth.” He straightened with the aid of his cane. “Just don’t expect me to lie for you while you’re gone.”

  “Lie for me?” She frowned, “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t think anyone actually believes you’re going to Houston to look for a job, do you?” His arm shook as he leaned on his cane. “Everyone knows you’re running off to spend the weekend in the city with that Zartlich boy.”

  “I’m twenty-eight years old, Dad,” she reminded him with strained patience. “What I do is nobody’s business but mine.”

  “What about me?” He thumped his chest. “I’m the one who’ll have to stay behind and listen to all the whispers behind my back. This whole town will say you’re no better than your mother.”

  “Stop it, Dad. Just stop it!” Anger surged up hot and fast. She took a breath to hold it in. “If I’m like my mother, well, fine. For all her faults, I can think of a lot worse people to be compared to than her.”

  “That’s only because you never knew what she was really like. I shielded you from that, thank God.”

  “Thank God? Thank God!” She gaped at him, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “I can barely remember my own mother because her name has been taboo in this house since the day you brought her body back from Galveston, and for that you’re thankful?”

  “You’re better off not remembering what she was like.”

  She stared at him, seeing the hurt behind the bitter words. “I remember she was kind and giving and the most loving mother any girl could hope for. I also remember the way she cried as often as she laughed. I remember how desperately you two loved each other, even as I remember lying awake at night listening to the two of you fight. That’s all I know of my mother. All I’ll ever know.”

  ”Then maybe it’s time you knew why your mother and I fought so often. Maybe it’s time you knew the truth about all those ‘shopping trips’ she made into Houston.”

  “Dad…” Her shoulders sagged under the weight of regret. “Please. I don’t want to go into this, not now when you’re upset. Maybe when I get back—”

  ”As if there’s ever a good time to tell a child her mother was a tramp.”

  “I said stop it! I—” She bit her lip to keep it from shaking. “I know there were … other men, all right? I overheard enough shouting matches to know that much.”

  “They weren’t just ‘other men,’ Laura Beth. They were total strangers she picked up in ba
rs. Is that the kind of woman you want people comparing you to? The kind of woman you want to be like?”

  “This isn’t like that!”

  “And how is it different? Do you deny you’re going off to see Brent Zartlich?”

  “I’m going to meet Brent, yes—a man I’ve known most of my life. A man I hope to have a relationship with.”

  “A relationship.” He sneered at the word. “You can dress it up with platitudes, child, hut you can’t change the truth. Sex outside of marriage is still a sin.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is a sin. But I’ve spent my whole life being good, and what has it gotten me?”

  “It’s gotten you a decent home, food and clothes, and the respect of this town, that’s what it’s gotten you.”

  “It isn’t enough. Can’t you understand, I need—”

  “What? What do you need that you can’t get right here in Beason’s Ferry?”

  “More! All right?” Her body trembled with frustration. “I need more.”

  “And that, young lady, is exactly why you are just like your mother.” He closed his eyes. “Why do women always chase the very things that will destroy them in the end?”

  She started to defend herself, but her throat closed up. “Dad, I’m sorry,” she finally said, gathering her bags. “But I have to go. Please…” Her voice broke. “Try to understand.”

  “Laura Beth,” he called as she reached for the door. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the worry and pain that lined his face. “He’ll break your heart—you know that, don’t you?”

  “You’re probably right. But I’d rather go after what I want and have a broken heart than stay here and have nothing.”

  Her father drew up to his full height, his face contorting as he fought back his own tears. “Fine then. Go. Give yourself to some white trash bum who’ll destroy everything I’ve ever given you. But I’m warning you, Laura Elizabeth, if you walk out that door, don’t ever come back. I’d rather think of you as dead than sit here worrying over you night and day. Do you understand that?”

  Her throat closed. “Good-bye, Daddy,” she managed to whisper before she crossed the threshold and shut the door behind her.

  —

  Swiping at her cheeks, Laura steered Brent’s car onto First Street and headed out of town. Her watery vision made the Porsche’s tight steering and touchy brakes that much harder to deal with. Damn Brent’s car for needing to be babied. Why did men have to have cars as sensitive as their egos? Damn all men, and damn her father, too.

  Well, no, not damn her father. Damn her for letting him get to her. She’d known he’d make a scene before she left. She just hadn’t expected him to bring up her mother. That had been a low blow.

  Reaching the highway, she eased the car into a nice steady pace. A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed she’d smeared her mascara. She muttered a few more curses as she dabbed at the runny mess. This was supposed to be her big day: her emancipation. And instead of celebrating, she was crying off her makeup.

  To heck with that, she decided. Her father could only ruin her day if she let him. Adjusting herself more comfortably in the contour seat, she absorbed the feel of the road through the steering wheel.

  She rather liked this image of herself dashing off to Houston in a Porsche to meet a handsome man. As for the day, she couldn’t have picked a better one: the sun blazed in a cloudless sky, and a profusion of wildflowers bloomed along the side of the highway. All she needed now was the right music.

  Keeping one eye on the road, she rifled through Brent’s eclectic selection of CDs, which ranged from rhythm and blues to good old rock ‘n’ roll. Passing up the lighter fare, she picked something to set the mood she wanted: ZZ Top.

  As she struggled to get the disc out of the case, a car whizzed by in the fast lane as if she were standing still. She jumped at the sound and glanced down at her speedometer. The indicator read seventy miles an hour, exactly the speed limit. One would think that was plenty fast enough for anyone. Yet as she popped the CD in the player, a pickup truck came up behind her so fast, she feared he’d hit her before he whipped into the other lane and flew by.

  Dang! She pressed a hand to her pounding heart, then laughed at herself for being so skittish. If this was how fast life moved outside of Beason’s Ferry, then she’d just have to get used to it.

  Digging through her purse, she found her sunglasses, put them on, and slid lower in the seat. As Billy Gibbons’s gravelly voice belted out the opening line to ‘Gimme All Your Lovin’, she hit the accelerator.

  She was tired of being the slowest driver on the road.

  Chapter 12

  Laura’s eyes widened with interest when she turned onto the street that led to Brent’s house. One block off Westheimer, between the prestigious addresses along Kirby and Shepherd, was a world she’d never believed existed. Even though she’d grown up listening to people talk about Houston’s “charming old neighborhoods,” she’d never seen them. When she’d come to the city before, she’d driven straight to the Galleria, or some other destination along the main roads, and then gone home. But here on this side street in one of the city’s trendiest neighborhoods, she discovered the romantic heart of Old Houston.

  Easing the car along the shade-dappled street, she admired the green blankets of lawn, the colorful flower beds, and the stately two-story homes. Behind brick walls, she caught glimpses of garage apartments and the blue reflections of swimming pools.

  She spotted the address Brent had given her as she turned the corner at the end of the street. It was a smaller house than the others—more of a cottage, really—nestled between a newly built row of town houses and the imposing wall of a mansion. A rather large cottage, she realized as she cleared the gnarled magnolia tree that shaded the front yard and partially hid the three-gabled roof.

  Pulling into the drive, she checked her directions to be sure she had the right house. Somehow she hadn’t pictured Brent owning a home that could have graced the pages of Southern Living. An apartment in a glass-and-steel high-rise, yes. A country cottage, no.

  Yet as she looked up, Brent stepped onto the front porch, and she’d never seen anyone look more at home. In tan slacks and a navy-blue polo shirt, he had the casual look of old money, as if he’d been born on this very street among the quiet wealth and blooming azaleas.

  “You found it,” he called as she stepped out of the car. His welcoming smile banished any lingering doubts she had about coming to Houston.

  “Of course.” She took a deep breath to calm the frantic rhythm of her heart. “You give excellent directions.”

  Reaching the car, he hesitated, as if he wanted to touch her but wasn’t sure if he should. He cast a sideways glance at the Porsche. “Any problems with the car?”

  “None whatsoever.” A mischievous impulse made her add, “Well, except for that speeding ticket I got flying through Katy.”

  “Speeding ticket?” he said absently, still searching his car for evidence of damage.

  “I told the officer to send the ticket to you, since it is your car.”

  He glanced up, looking confused, then his brow cleared. “Why, you little liar,” he laughed. “You didn’t get a ticket.”

  “No.” She grinned. But I should have.

  Cupping her face, he gave her a quick kiss and started to pull away but came back for a second brush of her lips, followed by a third and a fourth, each progressively longer. By the time he lifted his head, she felt weak in the knees.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said in a quiet, husky voice.

  “Mmm.” A warm glow stole through her as she opened her eyes. “Me, too.”

  “I have to admit, though, I’m a little surprised.”

  “Surprised?”

  He shrugged. “I half expected your father to pull some stunt at the last minute. You know, some life-threatening emergency to keep you from leaving.”

  “No.” The inner glow dimmed. “Nothing life threatening.”


  He narrowed his eyes at her. “What did he pull?”

  “Nothing,” she insisted.

  “Laura…?”

  “Nothing I want to talk about. All right?” For a moment, he looked ready to argue but apparently changed his mind. “All right.” His mood lightened as he gestured toward the house, “So how do you like it?”

  She looked past him to the red brick house with white trim and black shutters. “I love it.”

  “Really?” Boyish glee lit his face. “Me, too. It still needs a lot of work, though.”

  “Old houses always do.”

  “How about I give you the grand tour before we decide what we want to do tonight?”

  “Sounds great.” Warmth tingled in her belly as he led her up the brick path toward the porch. To her surprise, she felt even more jittery now than she had on their first “date.” But then, that had been prearranged. Tonight she was with Brent because he’d invited her of his own accord.

  “So, eh, what time is Melody expecting you?” he asked as they climbed the front steps. She glanced at him sideways. Was he anywhere near as nervous as she was?

  She forced a casual note into her voice, “She said not to hurry.”

  “Good,” His smile, and the subtle meaning behind that single word, sent heat spreading through her even as she preceded him into the cool interior of his home.

  “Oh, my,” she breathed, captivated by the masculine beauty and understated elegance of the décor.

  Recessed lights cast pools of warmth onto the hardwood floors, soft taupe walls, and white molding. In both the sitting room off to the right and the formal dining room to the left, Oriental rugs added splashes of color to offset the dark antiques.

  “There are a couple of bedrooms upstairs,” he explained as he gestured toward the stairwell. “I use one for an office, the other for a weight room.”

  Her eyes couldn’t help but notice the results of those weights as he led her through the dining room. Her mouth watered at the sight of his tapered back, trim buttocks, and muscular thighs as they moved beneath his clothes.