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“Very well, Gretchen.” Swinging the passenger door open, he sank with a sigh onto the soft leather seat. Inhaling a heady breath of new-car aroma, he said, “Take me away from all my troubles.”
“My pleasure.”
When she started the engine and began backing down the driveway, he glanced over at her. “Don’t you need your glasses to drive?”
“Lasik surgery,” she explained. “You are now looking at an emancipated woman. Twenty-twenty vision, both eyes.”
She was emancipated all right, he thought, eyeing her body in that tight dress. Any more emancipated, and he might not be able to contain himself.
“Must feel good,” he said, mentally adding the cost of the lasik surgery to the growing column of cash outlays she had made in recent weeks.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she replied fervently. “To have the weight of glasses off my nose is heavenly. And the exhilaration of waking up in the morning and being able to see—”
She broke off, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you with all the details.”
Bore him? How could she bore him, when the light of pleasure gleaming in her eyes had his pulse rate accelerating like mad? How could she bore him, when all he could think of was how exhilarating it would be to wake up in the morning and see her lying next to him? He, Marco Garibaldi, who made love to women but who avoided sleeping with them.
He forced his gaze out the window and shoved his inappropriate thoughts to the back of his mind. “Trust me, I’m not at all bored.”
Ten minutes later they were out on the open highway.
“Let’s see what this baby can really do, shall we?” she said.
Marco felt the rhythm of the engine change as she shifted gears and the vehicle picked up speed. In fascination, and not a little trepidation, he watched the speedometer needle edge past sixty, to seventy, then eighty, until it finally rested at eighty-five.
Outside, the scenery rushed past, wildflowers and trees melding together in one big blur. Thank goodness they were on a flat stretch of road and there wasn’t another car in sight. Of course, that wouldn’t help them if a deer darted out from nowhere, or an unseen patch of oil sent the car into an unexpected skid.
Tossing her head back, Gretchen laughed. It was the delighted, triumphant laughter of an explorer discovering a new land.
“Quite a kick, isn’t it?” she said.
“Oh, it’s a kick all right,” he replied tensely. “A real boot to the backside.”
“I’ve never felt so exquisitely free in my entire life.”
And he’d never felt so exquisitely terrified.
“You do know that the posted speed limit is fifty-five, don’t you?” he felt compelled to say.
Her hair blew wildly around her face, and she raised one hand to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. “I know.”
“Just thought I’d mention it.” He watched carefully until she’d placed her hand back on the steering wheel.
“Consider it mentioned.” She glanced at him out of the corner of one eye. “Did you know that the top speed this car can reach is 189 miles per hour? That’s why the manufacturer doesn’t install anti-lock breaks. Without them, the driver can maximize the car’s acceleration potential.”
He hadn’t known that, could have lived a long and happy life without knowing it, and prayed fervently she wasn’t going to try to attain warp speed this outing.
“Let me guess. Part of the salesman’s pitch?”
“Uh-huh.”
Suddenly she turned to him again, and her eyes flashed with an emotion he could only describe as regret. There was a self-accusatory tone in her voice when she said, “Do you realize that I’m almost thirty years old, and I’ve never gotten so much as a traffic ticket? Worse, I’ve never even been stopped by a policeman. Isn’t that a crime?”
Swiftly, and to his relief, she faced forward again.
“Well, I’m thirty-four,” he said tautly, fingers clenched against the dashboard, “and I’ve never had a traffic ticket or been stopped, either. You ask me, a lot of people would envy your record. I’m sure your insurance company appreciates it. Of course, if you keep traveling at this speed, you’ll most likely discover the thrill of being stopped and ticketed. Any second now.” If they were lucky.
She flashed him a look of surprise. “Am I making you nervous?”
He didn’t know what scared him more: the speed at which they were traveling or Gretchen Montgomery herself. He’d never met another woman like her, one minute shy and quiet, almost reserved, the next vibrant and outgoing, and totally unpredictable. Talk about a paradox; he was looking straight at one.
“Terrified,” he admitted.
“I’m sorry.” She eased up on the accelerator. “I thought all men loved to go fast.”
“Only with women, and only when they feel like they’re in control,” he muttered, watching in relief as the speedometer nosed its way back to a sedate fifty-eight miles per hour.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t have to worry, you know. I’m an excellent driver.”
“I’m sure you are.”
It was just that he had a thing about excessive speed. He’d seen its tragic aftermath too often in the E.R. not to respect that there were some things best left to the professionals. Traveling at a high rate of speed in an automobile was one of them.
Several miles flew by without either of them speaking. Relaxing at last, Marco leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes and wallowed in the feel of the fresh air washing over his face.
“Long day at work?” she asked.
“Long week,” he said.
“You work at Bridgeton Hospital, right?”
“Yes. In the emergency department.”
“Been there long?”
“Three years as a resident. Three years now on staff.”
“You must find it very rewarding.”
“It has its moments. What about you, Gretchen? Do you enjoy your work?”
There was only a slight hesitation before she replied, “Very much. It’s quite challenging. If you’re like most people, though, you think accounting, and CPAs in particular, are deadly boring.”
Eyes still closed, he smiled. “I suppose I’ve fallen victim to that stereotype once or twice.”
“Who hasn’t? By the way, you wouldn’t happen to own a Harley, a leather jacket or have a tattoo, would you?”
He ranked Harleys up there with driving at a high speed: too dangerous. Leather jackets were okay—his brother Carlo practically lived in one—but tattoos were definitely out. Why subject himself to needless infection?
Bemused, he swiveled his head toward her and opened his eyes. “No. Why?”
She shrugged. “I just realized we’ve been next-door neighbors for more than two years now, and I really don’t know very much about you.”
His thoughts precisely. “What would you like to know?”
“For starters, why do you rent from me?”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
“Only that you’re a doctor. I assume you could afford a place of your own.”
He grimaced. “You haven’t seen the bill for my medical school loans.”
“I’m not the type of landlady who steams open her tenants’ mail,” she said lightly.
“For which I’m heartily grateful.” After a pause he added, “I suppose I could swing a house if I wanted to. I just don’t want to.”
“Would you mind my asking why not?”
“It’s simple, really. I have a job that demands a lot of my time. What little I have left over, I’d rather spend with my brothers and my sister, and not have to worry about the care and upkeep of a house.”
“Makes sense to me,” she said.
“Me, too. Anything else you want to know?”
She startled him by pulling to the side of the road. Car idling, she removed her hands from the steering wheel and placed them in her lap before turning in her seat to face him. She seemed oddly tentative.
“Are you involved with anyone?”
The unexpected question knocked him totally off balance. “Not at the moment,” he replied carefully.
She digested that for a minute before asking, “Do you find me…attractive?”
“I think the answer is obvious.”
“Is it?” She seemed to be holding her breath.
He ran his gaze hotly over her, paying particular attention to her legs and her cleavage. When he returned his attention to her face, he saw that her cheeks were red.
“Do you still doubt it?”
“No.” She licked her lips. “In that case, what do you think of the idea of us having a wild, crazy affair?”
His heart surged into his throat. “An affair?”
She nodded. “No strings attached.”
“And when it’s over?”
“We go our separate ways.”
“No hard feelings?”
“None.”
“Now?”
Her lips curved. “I was thinking of someplace a little more private.” She nodded at their surroundings. “Also, a little more romantic. And roomier.”
He didn’t smile back at her. He couldn’t. He knew he was stalling, asking questions to put off having to give her an answer. The real question was, Why?
Because he would have staked his reputation on the wager that she was not a woman who entered into an affair lightly. Considering that they’d spoken to each other more today than they had in the sum total of their conversations over the prior two years, he was at a loss to explain why she had made the offer.
“Well?” she repeated. “What do you think?”
What did he think? That it was the best idea he’d heard all week. That it had been a long time since a woman had made him so aware of his maleness and her femaleness. That he’d be a fool to say no.
The best thing about it was that she was offering what every man dreamed of: a no-strings-attached, fleeting affair. She was offering what he offered every woman he got involved with. So why was he hesitating? It wasn’t like him to be gallant.
Yes, she was his landlady, which offered up all sorts of potential complications. But there was more. Despite the come-on, he sensed a loneliness about her and an underlying tension. Something wasn’t right here. She wasn’t herself, and until he knew why, Marco couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. He had no choice but to say no.
“I think,” he said carefully, reluctantly, “that the timing isn’t right.”
She looked away from him, but not before he caught a flash of what he could swear was relief in her eyes. He had been right. Something was definitely going on here. If only he could figure out what it was.
“So you’re saying no,” she said flatly.
“Have you had an accident at work?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you fallen, hit your head? Perhaps a reaction to a new medication? You’re not acting at all like yourself today.”
Her body went rigid. “Oh? And just how should I be acting?”
“This isn’t you, Gretchen.”
Her gaze met his, her eyes defiant. If relief was what he’d glimpsed in them a minute ago, it was absent now.
“What isn’t me?”
“This.” He swept an arm out. “The car, the clothing, the come-on. Especially the come-on.”
She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. “So, what you’re saying is that I look ridiculous.”
