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“Well, duh.” She reached blindly for another chocolate and folded it into her closed fist, holding it like a talisman. “Look, do you have a CB or something in your truck? I tried using my phone to call for help, but it’s not working.”
He shook his head and snorted. “Honey, even if it were working, there’s no one to call. If you’re lookin’ for help tonight, I’m it.”
Her left shoulder and arm were getting soaked and she scooted farther to her right.
Muttering something unintelligible, he took a deep breath, blew it out again and said, “Come on. We’ll get your stuff and you can come with me.”
“Where to?” she asked, eyeing him warily.
He laughed shortly. “Does that really matter at this point?”
“I guess not,” she admitted, knowing full well and good this was her only option. She could refuse and sit here in her car waiting…hoping someone else would come along and stop. But what if no one did? What if his was the last car headed her way? What if she ended up right here, alone, in the middle of the hurricane?
Nope.
Even Sam Paretti was a better choice than that.
“Give me your keys,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’ll get your stuff from the trunk.”
Officious as always, she thought as she pulled them from the ignition and handed them to him. Then she turned to pick up her purse and thermos and sack of candy from the passenger seat. Rolling up the window again, she pulled the hood of her coat up over her head and stepped into the mouth of the building storm.
The wind snatched her hood off instantly, and in seconds her hair hung lankly on either side of her face. Trails of bathwater-warm rain slipped beneath the collar of her shirt and rolled along her spine. Her jeans felt heavy and clammy against her legs as the water soaked into the denim fabric, and her tennis shoes squished in the mud and water flowing across the road like a dirty river.
Here in the low country, it could take days for the water to run off the highway. Until then, every street became a lake, every highway a river and every field an ocean.
Carefully, she leaned into the wind and slanting rain to make her way to the back of the car. She was in time to hear Sam mutter, “Females. How in the hell can they possibly need so much stuff?”
“Pardon me for not being able to get along with nothing but a pocketknife and a snare,” she snapped.
“You’re not going on vacation,” he said as he lifted both bags out at once. “This is an evacuation.”
“So?” What did he expect? That she should uproot herself with nothing more than a paper sack containing a change of underwear?
“Never mind,” he grumbled, shaking his head.
He sloshed through the wet to his car and set her luggage in his trunk. Right behind him, Karen peered into the back of the huge SUV and stared at the pile of survival gear he’d brought with him.
“A tent?” she shouted, to be heard over the rising wind. “You’re planning on camping out? In this?”
“Not anymore, apparently,” he said, and stalked back toward her car. Lifting the cooler and a plastic grocery bag out of the trunk, he slammed the lid down and walked back toward where she waited in the red glow of his blinking hazard lights. “What have you got in here?” he asked as he shoved the cooler and the bag into the trunk and slammed the hatch closed.
“Food,” she told him. “Necessities.”
“Chocolate?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting. Her fingers tightened on the bag she still held. “That’s a necessity. Trust me.”
“Whatever. Just come on.” He took her elbow in a firm grip and guided her to the passenger side of the car. Opening the door, he all but picked her up and threw her inside. The door slammed shut right behind her and the sudden silence and absence of wind and rain was almost a shock to her system.
Sam climbed in a moment later, and then they were alone in the warm, confined space.
He turned his head to look at her, and when she stared into those eyes of his, Karen had to wonder which would have been more dangerous.
Being stranded in a hurricane by herself?
Or being alone with Sam Paretti.
Two
She looked like a drowned rat.
And still was more beautiful than any other woman he’d ever known. Damn it.
Sam just stared at her for a long minute, looking his fill, feeding the need that had been riding him for two long months. Damn. It felt as though it had been years since he’d seen her last. Not weeks.
His instincts had drawn him to the disabled car with its hazard lights blinking. With this kind of storm coming in, he hadn’t been able to just drive on past someone who might need help. It hadn’t been until the last minute, when he’d recognized her car, that he’d known he was about to pay a price for his chivalry.
The price being, he could look at her, but he couldn’t touch her.
And knowing that made him angry, giving his voice more bite than he’d intended when he swiped one hand across his face and asked, “What the hell are you still doing here? You should have evacuated hours ago.”
Finely arched blond eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “Hello, Pot?” she said. “This is Kettle. You’re black.”
“Very funny,” he said, acknowledging that he, too, should have long since left town. “But my situation’s a little different.”
“Really?” she asked, and ate a piece of chocolate. “How’s that?”
“Well for one thing,” he told her, with a glance out the windshield at her DOA car, “my car works.”
She frowned at him.
“I told you three months ago,” he said, “that car was on its last legs. It’s a rolling disaster.” He shook his head in disgust. “I told you not to count on that thing.”
She shifted in her seat, unwrapped another chocolate and popped it into her mouth before answering. Like it was some sort of magic confidence pill. But then, hadn’t she always reached for chocolate when she was nervous? Or upset. Or happy. As he recalled, chocolate was a major part of Karen Beckett’s personality.
“Yes, you did,” she said, “but it lasted three months longer than you thought it would, didn’t it?”
“Sure,” he said, nodding, “it lasted until you really needed it. Then it died.”
“Look, Sam…”
Most stubborn, hardheaded female he’d ever met. “For Pete’s sake, Karen,” he blurted, frustration boiling within him. “If I hadn’t come along, what would you have done? You’d have been stuck here. In the middle of nowhere, riding out a hurricane in that worthless piece of automotive engineering.”
She stiffened and got that “queen to peasant” look on her face. “I would have been fine.”
“Yeah, right.” He nodded again, feeling that old familiar flash of irritation sweep through him. Nobody, but nobody could get to him like Karen Beckett. “First thing I noticed when I pulled up to save your butt was how well you were doing.”
Giving him a glare that would have toasted a lesser man, Karen gathered up her purse and chocolates, then reached for the door handle. “Y’know what? If listening to another one of your lectures is the price of a ride…I’d rather walk.”
She threw the passenger door open and a sheet of rain sliced into the car. Instantly, Sam lunged across her lap, grabbed the armrest and yanked, slamming the car door shut again. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You did, too,” she countered, and pushed at him until he was back on his own side of the car. “Just now you said—”
“Okay, look,” Sam said loudly, and held up both hands in mock surrender. “This is nuts.”
She sighed heavily, folded her arms across her front and stared straight ahead.
He studied her profile for a long, silent minute, then said, “There’s no reason for us to fight, Karen. We’re not together anymore.” And just hearing those words spoken aloud was enough to tighten a twinge of regret around his heart.
“True,” she said quietly.
A rush of wind pushed at his car and rattled the windows. Rain clattered onto the hood and roof, sounding like a chorus line of Irish folk dancers. Outside, the world was wild and raw with Mother Nature shaking her fists at the people who sometimes forgot just who was in charge around here.
He shifted his gaze to the watery scene beyond the car and tried to remember what was important here. Not the fact that they’d broken up. Not the fact that his heart still ached for wanting her. But the very real threat charging down on them.
He wasn’t worried so much for himself, but now that he had Karen to look out for, he damn sure was going to see to it that she stayed safe.
Pulling in a deep breath, he swiveled his head to look at her. And in the dim, reflected light from the dashboard, she looked worried. Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip and her gaze was locked on the raging storm. He knew she was wishing she were anywhere but there. And a part of him didn’t blame her in the slightest. But a bigger part of him was glad she was with him. At least this way, he’d know that she was safe.
“So,” he said, just loud enough to be heard above the storm, “we call a temporary truce?”
She turned her head to look at him and seemed to be considering his offer. Finally though, she nodded. “A truce.” Then she held out her right hand to seal their bargain with a shake.
He took her hand in his and the instant their skin brushed together, he felt a blast of electricity shoot up the length of his arm and dazzle his brain. Sam released her quickly, but it wasn’t in time to keep that shock of desire from rocketing around inside his chest and squeezing his heart.
She must have felt it, too, he told himself as he watched her reach for another chocolate. Her fingers trembled as she peeled off the foil, and he knew that what had been between them was far from dead.
But that hardly mattered, did it? She’d made her feelings clear two months ago when she’d walked away from him without so much as a backward glance.
Clearing his throat, he buried old hurts and said instead, “You keep eating chocolate like you do and you’re gonna lose all your teeth before you’re forty.”
“It’ll be worth it,” she muttered.
“And when they’re all gone, how will you eat chocolate then?”
She glanced at him. “Chocolate malts. Through a straw.”
“Hardhead.”
“Bully.”
Sam grinned and watched a little smile tug at one corner of her mouth. Damned if he hadn’t missed their little…discussions. Almost as much as he’d missed…other things.
“Well,” he said, and fired up the engine, “what do you say we find a place to ride this storm out?”
“Ya-hoo, Tonto.”
“Hey,” he protested. “It’s my car, I get to be the Lone Ranger. You’re Kemosabe.”
When her cell phone rang twenty minutes later, Karen was so happy it was working again, she didn’t bother to wonder who might be calling her at 3:00 a.m.
She might have known.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, and threw a glance at Sam. His chuckle was enough to make her grit her teeth.
“Karen, honey—” Her mother’s voice came through despite the static. “Where are you? Someplace safe, I hope.”
“Of course I’m safe,” she replied. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, she wasn’t so sure. Being this close to Sam Paretti again wasn’t a good idea. The memories of their time together were too fresh. Too strong. Too tantalizing.
“How far inland are you?” her mother asked, splintering Karen’s thoughts and dragging her back to the present.
“Actually, I’m on my way.”
“On your way?” her mother asked. “You should have left town hours ago.”
“Traffic was too bad to leave earlier,” she said, telling both her mother and Sam.
“Martha…” Karen’s father, apparently on the extension, spoke up. “Now that we know she’s all right, why don’t we hang up and let her get where she’s going?”
“Thanks, Dad.” She could always count on her father to keep a sane head.
“None of this would have been happening if you hadn’t moved,” her mother pointed out. “You could be safe and sound here in California….”
“Waiting for the Big One with the rest of us,” her father interrupted.
“Mom, I’m perfectly safe—”
“Now,” Sam added his two cents.
“Who was that?” her mother asked.
Karen closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “Uh…” She tossed a glare at Sam, who didn’t seem the least bit affected. “I’m with a friend,” she finally said.
He laughed at the strained tone of her voice as she stumbled over the word friend.
Fine, they weren’t friends, she thought. But they weren’t lovers anymore, either. So what did that make them…friendly enemies?
“Which friend?” her mother asked.
“Martha…”
“Say hello for me,” Sam said, in a tone loud enough to carry.
She sighed, giving into the inevitable. “It’s Sam. He says hello.”
“Sam? You didn’t tell me you were seeing him again.”
