“Why doesn’t my car match me?”
“If anyone should own a Ferrari it should be you.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
Didn’t she look in a mirror? “You’re so, so . . .”
“What?”
The word was clipped, irritated. Dan wasn’t sure what he’d done now. “Beautiful, exotic, sleek, and lovely.”
He was proud he’d gotten those words out without stumbling over a few, and proud he’d complimented her without being asked. In his former world, women adored compliments. He’d never quite mastered the knack of giving them, though.
Grace’s face went still, all the animation of their silly conversation wiped free, and she glanced out the window away from him. Somehow he’d screwed up again. “How I look has nothing to do with who I am,” she murmured.
Hmm, Dan thought, a woman after my own heart. How many times had he felt just the same when judged upon his appearance?
He wanted to apologize, but apologizing seemed to be a bad idea with Grace. He wanted to reach across the distance and touch her, but in the close confines of the cab, touching her would be a bad idea, too. If he touched her, even a bit, he’d want to do a whole lot more.
Instead, he said softly, “You have a Ferrari inside, too, Grace. Top of the line.”
She turned and studied him for a long moment, as if she were seeing him for the very first time. “How would you know?”
How did he know? Like he was such a great judge of character when he spent most of his time with bottles and beakers? Today was the first day he’d ventured into Lake Illusion in months, and one of the reasons he did what he did was that he wasn’t very good with people Call it a curse—his parents certainly did.
Studying Grace’s intent face, Dan wondered why his second compliment seemed to matter more to her than the first. In his experience, having a Ferrari inside was not as important as having a Ferrari outside. Where he came from, having a Ferrari at all was the important thing.
“Dan?” She wasn’t going to give up. “How would you know anything about my inside, except in a medical chart sort of way?”
He shrugged, hesitated, then told a truth that surprised him. “I just know. Call it a feeling.”
A small smile lit her face. All was forgiven, just like that. He blinked at the sudden change. Every woman he’d ever known held on to a grudge and worked the thing for all it was worth. And they would never have let him off the hook with that “feeling” defense, even if it was the truth.
“I couldn’t afford a toy Ferrari,” she said, “let alone a real one.”
Dan put the key into the ignition. “In that we’re the same.”
“Really?” Her brow creased. “I pegged you for a wealthy guy.”
Dan’s heart did a slow roll, and his hand fell back to his knee. “Why would you think that?”
“You have the air of the raised rich.”
She was right, but he hated that she’d seen it. The environment in which he’d been raised was nothing to brag about. That was another reason he was a researcher, and also why his parents had disinherited him years ago. He was an embarrassment to them. He did, however, miss his little sister.
“You’ve seen a lot of the raised rich, have you?”
“Yes, I have. Look around you, Doctor. Lake Illusion is a tourist town—the playground of the wealthy who look for a place to pretend they’re in the woods.”
Dan peered into the dark of the trees surrounding them. “Looks like the woods to me.”
“Out here it is, but that’s only because Mrs. Cabilla has enough money to keep it that way. Back there . . .” She pointed at the distant lights of the city. “Nature is just an illusion.”
Dan didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded, then turned the key. Nothing happened. They both turned to look at each other with their mouths hanging open.
“Uh-oh,” Dan said.
“Yeah, uh-oh. A bit too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes.” Dan stared at the dark house, remembering how the electricity had gone off right before Perry’s car disappeared down the drive. What was the little weasel up to?
“Aren’t you going to check on the car?”
“Me?” He glanced at her wide-eyed.
“Maybe you can fix it.”
“Me?”
“You’re a guy, aren’t you?”
“Last I looked.”
“Last I looked, too.”
Dan’s face heated, and he thanked all that was holy that night had fallen so she could not see. He blushed like a schoolgirl, which was embarrassing when you were built like a linebacker.
Dan opened the car and got out. “Guess I could look under the hood.” For all the good it would do. He’d never looked under a hood in his life.
“Don’t you have to pop it open?”
“Okay.” Dan shrugged and reached back in to pull the hood release. The front popped up with a dull thump.
Once he had the hood open and secure, Dan stared into the engine. There was just enough light from the half moon to make the metal shine silver. Grace joined him, and they stared at it together.
“So what do you think?” she asked.
“That’s an engine all right.”
“You really have no idea, do you?”
“Not a one.”
“I thought you were some brilliant scientist.”
“Scientist, not mechanic.”
She grunted, unimpressed. “If you’re such a genius, you’d think you could fix a car.”
“You’d think.”
Dan refused to allow the feeling of inadequacy stealing over him to take root. Just because he was a klutz at life didn’t mean he had to hang his head. He was a genius—at medical science. Fat lot of good that did him right now.
“Got a cell phone?” She took a step toward the truck as if she expected him to answer in the affirmative.
“No.”
Grace stopped and turned toward him. “You don’t? What kind of doctor are you?”
“One who doesn’t have patients.”
“Good point. Don’t you ever have to call anyone?”
“Never had to make a call that couldn’t wait until I reached a phone. Until right this minute anyway. Don’t you have one?”
“There aren’t too many massage emergencies. Besides I’m against them on principle. My job is stress reduction. Phones going off at all hours, people running around with phones pressed to their ears at the supermarket, Little League, in the car . . .” She shuddered. “It’s like something out of a horror movie. Attack of the killer cell phones.”
He smiled at the image. He’d always thought the same thing.
After a moment of staring at each other, they sighed, and turned toward the house together. The dark windows stared back at them like mocking eyes. “No electric, no phone,” Dan observed.
“We could wait inside.”
“Until morning?”
“I guess. Perry will come back, won’t he?”
“If he left us here for nefarious reasons . . .” What those reasons could be Dan had no idea, but when he got his hands on weasel boy he would find out. “He isn’t coming back.”
Grace crossed the driveway and turned the front doorknob. Locked.
Dan joined her on the porch. “If we broke a window, would an alarm go off?”
“What alarm?”
“There isn’t an alarm”
“What for?”
“Protection? A theft deterrent?”
“Out here? Most people don’t even lock their doors.”
“I do.”
“You would. But you’re one of the few.”
“There are strangers all over the place.”
“Tourists. You think they spend their summer vacation robbing little old ladies?”
“Still . . .”
Grace shrugged. “I suggested an alarm to Mrs. Cabilla once and she refused. She said she didn’t want nature spoiled with
bells and whistles.”
“That’s crazy.”
“She’s in the Andes Mountains looking for sheep. Does that seem logical to you?”
The girl had a point. “So what do we do now?” he asked.
“Now” —Grace gazed up at the stars— “we walk to your place.”
Chapter Five
“My place?” Dan’s voice rose in surprise, and he squinted across the water at the pinprick of light amidst a great, big dark. “But my place is on the other side of the lake. Is there a boat?”
“Even if there is, rowing across is harder than walking around. And I don’t know anything about motorboats. Do you?”
“Sailboats,” he mumbled, as if sailing were a crime.
“That we definitely don’t have.” Grace stepped off the porch and started toward the twin dead cars.
“Wait a minute.” When she didn’t stop, he followed her. “You said we’d walk. How are we going to walk?”
“You’ve got feet.”
“This lake is ten miles around.”
Grace resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d been doing that so much lately she was going to roll them right out of her head.
Dan might live here, he might work here; he might even like it here; but Dan was a city boy from the tip of his bare, blond head to the toe of his brand-name sneakers. At least he could walk a mile—make that several—in those shoes, and the sun had gone down, so he wouldn’t get heat exhaustion or sunburn from walking around without a hat.
“Why don’t we go out to the road?” Warily he eyed the mountain-sized pine trees. “Maybe we can flag a ride.”
“The road is the long way. And no one’s out there at this time of night.”
“Why not? It’s a road, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, County Highway to nowhere. Listen, there’s nothing out this way but the lake, which is private, and a lot more trees than you would ever believe. All the tourist action is on the other side of town. The locals go to bed early so they can get up and fish, work, or serve the masses.”
Dan continued to contemplate the dark forest. “So you plan to go through there?”
“It’s the only way.”
Grace pulled her sneakers out of the car and tossed the sandals back inside. She grabbed the spare flashlight and tucked it into her belt. Standing on one foot, she braced her hand against the car and slipped into the well-worn shoes. When she turned around she bumped into Dan, which was like walking into a tall, cushy wall.
Her butt slammed against the door handle, and she hissed in both pain and annoyance at the thought of the lovely bruise she would have in a place the sun didn’t shine—or at least didn’t shine anymore. Sunbathing nude had lost its appeal the first time one of the low-flying gliders from the municipal airport had skimmed past her roof. She might be free-spirited, but an exhibitionist she was not.
“Sorry,” Dan said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. What are you doing?”
“Getting ready to walk a few miles.”
“You keep sneakers in the car?” He acted like she kept locoweed under the seat.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Grace started across the driveway at a brisk pace. Dan could keep up or be left behind.
“Not where I come from,” he muttered.
Grace had no doubt about that. Where he came from tennis shoes were used for tennis, and you didn’t keep them in the backseat of the limo.
The man came from money. Big money, most likely. Which only made his insistence that he needed the Cabilla Grant to cure para . . . pora . . . whatever it was, a line of hooey and made Grace feel a whole lot less guilty for planning to take the money from him. He could just use his trust fund, or trot home to Mummy and use hers.
Crunch, crunch went the loose stones at the side of the driveway.
Mumble, grumble went Dan’s voice beneath his breath. Shuffle, scuffle, shuffle and scuffle went his feet as he hurried to catch up with her.
Grace pulled out the flashlight and flicked her thumb over the button. A garish yellow beam invaded the soft silver path of moonlight, but she had little choice. Once beneath the dense cover of the forest, they would be unable to see. They didn’t want to run into a tree—or worse.
Entering the woods, Dan stepped right on a fallen branch. The resounding crack made an owl start up from a nearby tree. Small, furry things fled. Something heavy, but fleet, took off in another direction, smashing bushes and branches in its haste to get away from the klutz who had invaded their night.
Grace’s nimishoomis, her grandfather, had always said white men walked heavier than wounded buffaloes and made more noise than grizzlies on a rampage. Not that there were any grizzlies in Wisconsin, but the point was the same. At this rate, Grace wouldn’t have to worry about any animal of the woods catching them unaware. They’d all be on the other side of the lake, running away from Dan, the destructor.
“Is there a trail from one side of this lake to the other?” Dan interrupted her thoughts.
“No.”
Dan stopped. Grace kept going. He hurried to catch up again and slid on the wet grass where it grew thick, sleek, and long beneath the cover of the towering trees.
His arms flew up and he smacked one into a bush. Twigs flew every which way, showering Grace’s hair and raining down onto the ground. Dan stepped on those, too—snap, crackle, pop.
“Grace!” he shouted.
A raccoon chattered. Grace flashed the beam of light at the sound and pinned the animal in a golden circle where he scolded them from the crook of a tree. Dan leapt in front of Grace. He was really very sweet.
She put her free hand on his arm. “I don’t think he’s dangerous, just a little mad at you.”
The muscles beneath her fingers tensed, hardened. Grace resisted the urge to push on them, stroke and separate, soothe and smooth. Muscles, skin, and bone were her specialty and she rarely got to touch a specimen such as Dan.
He straightened and the damp rubber sole of his shoe made a squeaking, squishing sound against the grass. The raccoon growled and scrambled higher in the tree. “What’s he mad about?”
“You scared him.”
He looked sideways and the beam hit his eyes, making him squint and wince, just like the raccoon. Grace lowered the light to the ground. “How could I scare him when I didn’t even know he was there?”
The guy was clueless but still sweet. Imagine, jumping in front of her like a knight to protect her from Rocky Raccoon.
“You’re awfully loud, Dan.”
“Me?”
Definitely clueless.
He stepped back and swept out his hand in a gallant, though sarcastic, gesture. “Lead on. I’ll try to be more quiet.”
That would be like a Mack truck trying to sneak down a country gravel road, but Grace kept her opinion to herself and led on. Dan scrambled to stay at her side. The woods had gone silent. Every living thing must have scattered already.
“Raccoons, and squirrels, and bears—”
“Oh, my,” Grace muttered.
Dan laughed. Point for him. “Are there bears in these woods?”
“Sure.”
“Ever seen one?”
“Uh-huh.” Grace remembered the first time. The bear had scrambled up a tree almost as fast as she had run the other way.
“Think we’ll see one tonight?” Another branch broke beneath his feet.
“No way.”
“Hmm.” He sounded both disappointed and relieved. Grace had to smile. City folk were fascinated by bears. Guess you didn’t see too many from high- rise windows. “You’re sure you know where you’re going?” Dan said.
“I’m sure.”
“You walk these woods a lot?”
“Not these.”
But some just like them. As a child she’d spent time with her paternal grandparents, at her mother’s insistence. Even as her father gave his life for the rights of his people, he would have let his daughter grow up ignorant of all that was Ojibwe. He wanted her to be who she
was. He had never understood that part of who she was was just that.
Ignorance of the customs did not make her skin any lighter. Being half Irish did not make people stare at her any less. Knowing who she came from, and why that was important, was all that had made the tough times bearable. Her mother had understood that and sent her to her grandparents for part of every summer.
With them she learned to love the forest, and that love had never died. Tall buildings made her claustrophobic, flat places made her feel exposed, deserts were, well, deserted. Whenever she was away she ached for green rolling hills, sun on water, and snow heavy upon the pines. Bad memories had made her flee, but good memories brought her back.
Dan stopped. “Where are you from?”
Grace kept going. A breeze blew the hair back from her face, and she breathed deeply of the air, scenting rain, and a spark of electricity. No time to dawdle. She didn’t want to be in the woods when the coming storm broke.
“A place south and east of here.”
A place she had not been able to return to because all her bad memories lingered there.
Dan double-timed to catch up with her again. “You lived on the reservation?”
“No.” For some reason outsiders always figured every Indian in town had escaped from the reservation. She waited for him to ask why not, but for once he kept quiet.
The woods thickened and the going slowed. Their feet slid along the damp forest cover. Here, the ground remained wet well into August. The sun rarely reached past the blanket of trees to dry the ground from the winter snows and the spring rains. Purple flowers grew amidst the grass. The woodsy, wild scent of mushrooms and moss warred with the aroma of pine needles and sap.
Neither the moon nor the stars could be seen any longer. Grace reached into her pocket and pulled out a compass, flicking the beam across its face. She gave a sharp nod. She’d thought they were still headed in the right direction, but in the woods it paid to be certain.
“You’ve got a compass?” Dan sounded so amazed that Grace smiled.
“Doesn’t everyone?” She popped the circlet back into her pocket.
When You Wish (Contemporary Romance) Page 5