by Geeta Kakade
"Well," Matt cast a sidelong glance at Margaret as he said, "at times she has a certain keep-your-distance look that reminds me of Royalty."
Margaret stared at him. He'd never mentioned her Princess look before.
"How about Snow White?" Lone Wolf suggested. Margaret laughed. Matt took the hand piece from her and said, "She's got the most beautiful red hair. Snow White won't do."
Beautiful? thought Margaret. Her hair?
"How about Rose Red, then? Just read my three year old grandson that story last night. Keep hiding the book, but he keeps finding it. Damned, if I can figure out why the li'l tyke wants to hear that same story every single night."
"Rose Red is fine," said Matt handing the piece back to Margaret.
"Welcome to the family, Rose Red," said Lone Wolf.
"The family?" asked Margaret.
"That's what we truckers are," Lone Wolf said. "One big family. I won't say happy, mind you, because we're not that all the time, but out on the road when we're all alone, the other voices are all we've got. Driving eight to ten hours each day can get pretty lonesome for us long distance drivers. Some of us don't have anyone waiting for us at home, and our only real connections are our trucking buddies."
"How long have you been a trucker?" asked Margaret.
"Forty years. Started when I was twenty and never wanted to do anythin' else. My wife left me for another man because I was never home, but my daughter understands, and I stay with her and her family between trips. This truck means more to me than anything else in the world. Hope I die in it."
Daddy had felt like that about his work too. She had heard him say once, "A man's got to work at what he enjoys to give it his best."
"What kind of work do you do, Rose Red?"
Matt listened to Margaret describe her job. Her voice flowed in and around him, wrapping him in its gentleness. He had made it clear to the women he had known in the past that he was not in the running for a long term relationship. With Margaret, he wanted to build castles in the air. But dreams, Matt knew, could not stay up by themselves. They needed good solid foundations under them to give them substance. What he didn't know was whether he had what it took to work on those foundations.
"Got to leave you now, Lone Wolf," Matt said. I'm going to get off the 5 here, and head for the ocean on side roads."
"I know a good place," said Lone Wolf. "When you get to 101, instead of crossing it, head south on it for a mile and a half. Park in the rest area there, and go down the slope behind it. When you get to the beach, veer to your right and you'll see a sheltered cove like they have in the movies. Haven't told anyone else about the spot, but a princess deserves a beautiful setting."
"Thanks, Lone Wolf," said Matt.
"Goodbye, Lone Wolf," Margaret added. "And," she hesitated for a second and then said, "Happy Trucking."
"You and Rose Red have a good time, Bedouin Two," Lone Wolf ordered. "Youth doesn't come around twice."
Lone Wolf's directions led them straight to the secluded cove. Aqua waves foamed over each other in their rush to get to shore. The continuously washed sand was very soft and Margaret felt her feet sink it. In her arms, the puppy wriggled. Nearby, gulls tilted their head inquisitively to gauge the food possibilities of the intruders.
"Set him down," Mat suggested. "He won't get lost here."
The puppy floundered in the sand as he tried to keep up with them. His efforts made Margaret smile. "Have you thought of a name for him?"
"What do you think of Sandy?" Matt asked.
They both laughed as the puppy sat down abruptly, and head tilted to one side, tried to figure out the stuff beneath his feet. Sandy seemed like a perfect name for the puppy.
The cove was hemmed in by huge rocks and the position of the sun made it possible for them to sit in the shade cast by the rocks. Margaret watched in surprise as Matt spread a cotton rug over the sand and then began to unpack the picnic basket. Aunt Jan's whole wheat rolls and chicken salad, a salad, a thermos of iced tea, homemade cookies, and a bag of potato chips.
"Are we ever going back?" Margaret joked.
Matt looked up at her seriously. As their gazes locked, Margaret's heart skipped a beat. The shrill scolding of a gull gave her an excuse to look away. The bird was actually chasing Sandy.
"Shoo!" Running forward Margaret scooped up the whimpering pup. "Did that mean old bird frighten you," she asked gently as she cuddled with the little dog. Looking up she found Matt grinning at her.
"What's so funny?" Margaret demanded.
"Do you realize that's exactly the same tone you use with Mikki?"
"What tone?" she asked bewildered.
"Soft, cuddly, I-think-you're-special tone," said Matt, pouring milk from a small carton into a plastic dish for Sandy. "I don't know if our godchild will approve or disapprove. Mikela Margaret Wade is under the impression that only she inspires that kind of affection."
Margaret laughed, sitting down on the rug.
“Are you sure the puppy can have milk?” she asked.
Matt nodded. “I checked with the vet yesterday. He said as Sandy’s less than three weeks old, he needs milk and in a week we can introduce him to puppy food.”
“We?” thought Margaret.
She looked at Sandy’s dish and then at Matt's face. "Matt, when did you really get the puppy?"
He noticed her gaze on the milk carton in his hand. For him to have brought along milk and a dish for the puppy, finding Sandy couldn't have been a last minute thing. "Yesterday morning."
"Then why did you bring him along?"
"I thought it might take your mind off the trauma of riding in a truck again," he said slowly. "I wanted to provide a distraction."
Aunt Janet's call had made him think twice about what he was doing. Seeing the puppy scampering about his office, he had thought bringing it along might help distract Margaret.
"Thank you, Matt." Margaret put her hand against his cheek.
Matt turned his head so his warm lips rested against her soft palm. When he looked at her, Margaret's heart shied away from the fire that burned in his gaze.
The puppy, meal finished, climbed on to Margaret's lap. Margaret patted Sandy. Though another old prejudice had been peeled away she still hadn't come to grips with the fear of what Timmy's involvement in trucking would lead to.
"What's the matter, Margaret?'
She had eaten very little and Matt noticed the way she had become increasingly quiet.
"It's Timmy. He's barely talking to me. I keep telling myself if I don't change my attitude I'm going to lose him, but I still don't want him to have anything to do with trucking."
Matt sighed. "I was hoping today might change your mind."
"It did, but only about one aspect. I discovered I enjoy riding in a truck. Timmy must have memories like I do buried in his subconscious and he's determined to make up his own mind. I can't seem to let go of my fears or bridge the gap between us."
She felt Matt's hand cup her shoulder, his thumb massage her collarbone. "Letting go is never easy. A few years back I was exactly in the same spot you were in."
"Tell me about it."
"Susan decided she wanted to join the Peace Corps when she graduated from college and I was against it, till I realized I was behaving just like my father. It took real effort to remember Susan was entitled to the same personal freedom I had longed for all my life. I told Susan I would support her no matter what. She went off to Africa for two years and was perfectly happy there. All my fears that something terrible would happen to her were unfounded."
"All these years no one said anything to me about letting go of Timmy," Margaret's voice held one part sadness, two parts anger directed at herself. "Aunt Jan, Timmy, Joe...they all felt sorry for me, let me continue the way I was."
"They love you too much to ever do anything to hurt you, Margaret."
She shook her head. "What you did was take a risk, because you're not personally involved."
Matt star
ed at her. Something told him that he was more involved than he planned to be. He hadn't yet analyzed the way he felt about Margaret...all he knew was she attracted him like no other woman ever had.
"I've been talking to Timmy about college, and he's agreed to take the SAT exams," Matt said quietly. Unless he could recognize what he felt for Margaret without a doubt, he didn't want to discuss it. The mental tug-of-war would take a while to resolve. "I can't promise he'll be an engineer, but I've told him how much my degree helped me in my career."
"Thanks, Matt."
Margaret felt a little better. By the time Timmy got his degree he might change his mind about trucking.
"Timmy's been asking if he can go on one of the overnight trips," Matt said quietly.
Her heart immediately did a tiny flip-flop in protest but Margaret forced herself to say calmly. "I think he'll enjoy that." Learning a new behavior pattern didn't happen instantaneously. It took conscious effort and time.
"I've promised Tim a regular summer job with Bedouin Trucking when he's in college," Matt said. "He might decide trucking is not for him after all, but the fact it's his decision will make all the difference to him."
"I know," said Margaret.
After they repacked all the litter and gave the eager gulls the scraps, Matt removed his shoes, stood, and held a hand out to Margaret.
"Let's go for a walk," he suggested. Sandy was curled into a ball by the picnic basket, fast asleep. "He'll be fine," Matt said pulling Margaret to her feet and linking his fingers through hers.
They walked by the edge of the water, the waves washing their feet with an occasional icy offering. After a while, Matt let go off her hand and pulled Margaret into his side.
A light breeze whipped the curls out of Margaret's ponytail and ruffled Matt's thick dark hair. Above them a gull wheeled and called to its mate. The heat of the sun, the smell of the ocean, the feel of Matt next to her, combined to create a sense of peace within Margaret. It seemed natural to put an arm around Matt's waist, to let her hand cup his side. He felt warm and wonderful.
"Want to go in for a swim?" Matt asked.
"I didn't bring a swimsuit," said Margaret. "Anyway, I can swim barely enough to keep myself afloat."
They heard Sandy yowling, and Margaret said, "Race you back to the cove." She was off and running before she had finished her challenge, but Matt still beat her. Flinging herself down on the rug, Margaret panted, "That's not fair. You have longer legs." Lying on her back, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and grumbled, "Aunt Jan's been feeding me too much."
The shadow above her made her lift her hand away, her heart picking up its pace as she saw Matt leaning over her. An arm on either side of her body imprisoned her to the spot.
"Don't be a sore loser, Margaret. It’s time to ante up."
She met his smiling gaze and her own shifted to his mouth. It wasn't hard to imagine what he wanted for his prize. Entering into the spirit of the moment Margaret lifted her hands. Placing them on Matt's shoulders she said mock solemnly, "The Brownings of Inchwater always honor their debts."
There was passion in Matt's eyes as he looked at her. Lifting one hand from his shoulder, Margaret pressed one finger into the cleft in his chin. His eyes deepened into the color of malachite as he bent his head.
The kiss was an explosion of the feelings that had been building all morning. They lingered over it, pausing only to draw breath and then returning for more. Margaret's hands roamed over Matt's back urging him forward. Urging him closer.
His mouth left hers to trail kisses over her eyelids, her nose, and her forehead. Margaret dragged him back to her mouth with a mew of protest. A little later, Matt's lips blazed a new trail down her neck and then across her chest, following the neckline of her camisole top.
Margaret moaned deep in her throat as sensation after pulsating sensation crashed on the shores of her mind. Drawing Matt close to her, she wrapped her arms around him and held him, her actions clearly conveying she wanted more.
One second she felt him warm against her, the next he was turning away.
"Matt?" She sat up confused, wondering if she had dreamed the last few moments.
"It's getting cold out here. We had better leave." She stared in disbelief as he stood up, picked up the hamper and Sandy, and walked off. He couldn't have moved faster if she had been a skunk with her tail lifted.
Margaret got to her feet and folded the blanket. On legs that shook, she walked after him, wishing she could burrow into one of the tiny shells in the sand and never have to face Matthew Magnum again.
What on earth had made her come across so strong? I want you Matt. Margaret's face burned at the memory. His rejection stung all the more because she had never let herself go so far with anyone.. Just because Matt’s kisses made her feel like a femme fatale, didn't mean she was one. How could she have broken her personal rule of never coming on to a man?
Margaret scrambled up the slope, ignoring the hand Matt stretched out to help her and clambered on to the truck. In her seat, Margaret leaned back and closed her eyes. Shame wasn't a good medium to fry in.
Matt stared at the road ahead, his brows drawn together. He had wanted one kiss, but her response had made him hurl caution to the winds and take more than he meant to. Under different circumstances, with someone else, he would have made love on the beach without a second thought. Only Margaret was entitled to more than a few moments of stolen pleasure and he didn’t want to plunge into an affair with her. He threw her a quick glance. Eyes shut, head tilted back against the seat, she looked lost and lonely.
CHAPTER NINE
"Margaret, I'm sorry."
She kept her eyes closed. The words were a figment of her imagination, the same way she had imagined that he wanted to make love to her.
"Margaret, we have to talk."
She remained stubbornly silent. A second helping of humiliation would be too much to handle.
"Maggie, I want you as much as you want me."
Margaret opened her eyes and looked at Matt as he said, "Have you changed your mind about being personally involved with trucking?"
"I don't know," Margaret said slowly.
She hadn't been thinking back then, simply concentrating on the feelings Matt aroused in her.
"I'm a trucker at heart, Margaret. Lately I've been busy at the truck stop, but when things settle down and I hire more staff, I intend to go back to driving one of my trucks from time to time. It's what I like best. For our relationship to be a success, you will have to accept me as I am...seventy five percent trucker, twenty five percent a society figure."
Margaret didn't say anything, and Matt went on,
"It would be easy to take what we want now and think later, but I can't do it. All through my childhood I saw what happened when my father did just that. You're not the type to come through an affair unscathed, or go into one just for the temporary pleasure it would bring you and I'm not ready to make a permanent commitment, yet. We both have personal conflicts to resolve before we can go on."
She shouldn't resent his clear way of analyzing the situation. The lessons branded on Matt's mind as a child made him the way he was. Unusual, different, special.
"I don't want a permanent commitment either." The minute the words were out, Margaret swallowed. She had wanted to make it clear she wasn't trying to trap him into marriage, but now it sounded as if all she did want was an affair with no strings attached.
Margaret closed her eyes. Should she tell Matt her deepest fear was that of losing the ones she loved. Avoiding love was her only guarantee against pain. As long as her emotions were carefully locked away, as long as she didn't depend on anyone for her happiness, she would be safe.
Margaret wondered how Matt would react if she shared her thoughts with him, but stubbornness kept her quiet. This was one problem she was going to work through herself.
"Have you had any luck with catching the people who are stealing from you?"
Cleve
r, Margaret, really clever.
As a red herring, it wasn't the greatest, but Matt apparently sensed her need to veer away from the personal.
"I have a hunch it's happening at one particular truck stop near Vegas," Matt said checking his huge side mirror before changing lanes. "My drivers are watching the spot, but so far no one has been caught. Last week, a box of computer disks was missing from our delivery. Our insurance covers the losses, so the companies we deliver to have no complaints, but it still bothers me that it's happening."
Margaret wondered what Matt planned to do after he caught the thieves. Would he return to L.A? The summer was half over and soon she would have to think of returning to Washington. Confused and tired, Margaret closed her eyes.
Matt leaned forward and flicked on the CB. As they sped along, Margaret listened to voices over the air, discussing last night's basketball game. Suddenly, a new voice cut in. "Breaker. Breaker. There's a trucker in trouble on Brown Road, just off the 101 Freeway, south of San Luis Obispo. He just reported a 1033. Driver's young and scared. Says not to call Smokey. Anyone in the area?"
Margaret's gaze flew to Matt as he reached forward and picked up the hand piece. She knew a 1033 was a dire emergency. Smokey was trucker’s slang for the authorities. "This is Bedouin Two. I'm ten minutes away and heading there right now."
He drove in silence, concentrating on the road. Five minutes later, they saw the truck. Matt pulled up behind it and let out a long whistle. The flatbed's load was tilted at a dangerous angle. The driver was lucky the rig hadn't overturned.
"Stay here," Matt told Margaret, getting down.
Margaret checked the puppy, and then opened the door on her side. Maybe there was something she could do to help.
Matt approached the driver and held his hand out, "Magnum," he said in brief introduction. "How did this happen?"
As the driver mumbled an explanation, Margaret glanced at the woman, and the child sitting on the side of the road. Their dark eyes watched her, identical expressions of worry in them, but they didn't return her smile.
"Are you all right?" Margaret asked softly.
They continued to stare at her, and she realized they didn't speak English. Margaret's Spanish was limited. She glanced over her shoulder to where Matt and the driver examined the ropes that bound the load to the flatbed.
