So she drove. But it was Sara, not Gabriel, who rode with her that summer. Gabriel had packed a bag, told the women goodbye, and rushed out without another word.
“Where is he going?” Michelle had asked Sara.
The other woman smiled gently. “We’re not allowed to know. Some of what he does is classified. And you must never mention it to anyone. Okay?”
“Of course not,” Michelle replied. She bit her lip. “What he does—it’s just office stuff, right? I mean he advises. That’s talking to people, instructing, right?”
Sara hesitated only a beat before she replied, “Of course.”
* * *
Michelle put it out of her mind. Gabriel didn’t phone home. He’d been gone several weeks. During that time, Michelle began to perfect her driving skills, with Sara’s help. She got her driver’s license, passing the test easily, and now she drove alternately to work with Carlie.
“This is just so great,” Carlie enthused on the way to work. “They bought you a Jaguar! I can’t believe it!” She sighed, smoothing her hand over the soft leather seat. “I wish somebody would buy me a Jaguar.”
Michelle chuckled. “It was a shock to me, too, let me tell you. I tried to give it back, but they wouldn’t hear of it. They said I needed something safe. Like a big Ford truck wouldn’t be safe?” she mused.
“I’d love a big brand-new Ford truck,” Carlie sighed. “One of those F-Series ones. Or a Dodge Ram. Or a Chevy Silverado. I’ve never met a truck I didn’t love.”
“I like cars better,” Michelle said. “Just a personal preference.” She glanced at her friend. “I’m going to miss riding with you when I go to college.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” Carlie glanced out the window. “Just having company keeps me from brooding.”
“Carson is still giving you fits, I gather?” Michelle asked gently.
Carlie looked down at her hands. “I don’t understand why he hates me so much,” she said. “I haven’t done anything to him. Well, except make a few sarcastic comments, but he starts it,” she added with a scowl.
“Maybe he likes you,” Michelle ventured. “And he doesn’t want to.”
“Oh, sure, that’s the reason.” She shook her head. “No. That isn’t it. He’d throw me to the wolves without a second thought.”
“He spends a lot of time in Cash Grier’s office.”
“They’re working on something. I’m not allowed to know what, and the chief makes sure I can’t overhear him when he talks on the phone.” She frowned. “My father’s in there a lot, too. I can’t imagine why. Carson isn’t the praying sort,” she added coldly, alluding to her father’s profession. He was, after all, a minister.
“I wouldn’t think the chief is the praying sort, either,” Michelle replied. “Maybe it’s something to do about that man who attacked your father.”
“I’ve wondered about that,” her companion replied. “Dad won’t tell me anything. He just clams up if I mention it.”
“You could ask the chief.”
Carlie burst out laughing. “You try it,” she replied with a grin. “He changes the subject, picks up the phone, drags someone passing by into the office to chat—he’s a master at evasion.”
“You might try asking Carson,” she added.
The smile faded. “Carson would walk all over me.”
“You never know.”
“I know, all right.” Carlie flushed a little, and stared out the window again.
“Sorry,” Michelle said gently. “You don’t want to talk about him. I understand.”
“It’s okay.” She turned her head. “Is Gabriel coming back soon?”
“We don’t know. We don’t even know where he is,” Michelle said sadly. “Some foreign country, I gather, but he didn’t say.” She shook her head. “He’s so mysterious.”
“Most men are.” Carlie laughed.
“At least what he does is just business stuff,” came the reply. “So we don’t have to worry about him so much.”
“A blessing,” Carlie agreed.
* * *
Michelle did a story about the local fire department and its new fire engine. She learned a lot from the fire chief about how fires were started and how they were fought. She put it all into a nice article, with photos of the firemen. Minette ran it on the front page.
“Favoritism,” Cash Grier muttered when she stopped by to get Carlie for the drive home that Friday afternoon.
“Excuse me?” Michelle asked him.
“A story about the fire department, on the front page,” he muttered. He glared at her. “You haven’t even done one about us, and we just solved a major crime!”
“A major crime.” Michelle hadn’t heard of it.
“Yes. Someone captured old man Jones’s chicken, put it in a doll dress, and tied it to his front porch.” He grinned. “We captured the perp.”
“And?” Michelle prompted. Carlie was listening, too.
“It was Ben Harris’s granddaughter.” He chuckled. “Her grandmother punished her for overfilling the bathtub by taking away her favorite dolly. So there was this nice red hen right next door. She took the chicken inside, dressed it up, and had fun playing with it while her grandparents were at the store. Then she realized how much more trouble she was going to be in when they noticed what the chicken did, since it wasn’t wearing a diaper.”
Both women were laughing.
“So she took the chicken back to Jones’ house, but she was afraid it might run off, so she tied it to the porch rail.” He shook his head. “The doll’s clothes were a dead giveaway. She’s just not cut out for a life of crime.”
“What did Mr. Jones do?” Michelle asked.
“Oh, he took pictures,” he replied. “Want one? They’re pretty cool. I’m thinking of having one blown up for my office. To put on my solved-crime wall.” He grinned.
They were laughing so hard, tears were rolling down their cheeks.
“And the little girl?” Michelle persisted.
“She’s assigned to menial chores for the next few days. At least, until all the chicken poop has been cleaned off the floors and furniture. They did give her back the doll, however,” he added, tongue in cheek. “To prevent any future lapses. Sad thing, though.”
“What is?”
“The doll is naked. If she brings it out of the house, as much as I hate it, I’ll have to cite it for indecent exposure...”
The laughter could be heard outside the door now. The tall man with jet-black hair hanging down to his waist wasn’t laughing.
He stopped, staring at the chief and his audience.
“Something?” Cash asked, suddenly all business.
“Something.” Carson’s black eyes slid to Carlie’s face and narrowed coldly. “If you can spare the time.”
“Sure. Come on in.”
“If you don’t need me, I’ll go home,” Carlie said at once, flushed, as she avoided Carson’s gaze.
“I don’t need you.” Carson said it with pure venom.
She lifted her chin pugnaciously. “Thank God,” she said through her teeth.
He opened his mouth, but Cash intervened. “Go on home, Carlie,” he said, as he grabbed Carson by the arm and steered him into the office.
* * *
“So that’s Carson,” Michelle said as she drove toward Carlie’s house.
“That’s Carson.”
Michelle drew in a breath. “A thoroughly unpleasant person.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“He really has it in for you.”
Carlie nodded. “Told you so.”
There really didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Michelle gave her a sympathetic smile and kept her silence until they pulled up in front
of the Victorian house she shared with her father.
“Thanks for the ride,” Carlie said. “My turn to drive tomorrow.”
“And my turn to buy gas.” She chuckled.
“You don’t hear me arguing, do you?” Carlie sighed, smiling. “Gas is outrageously high.”
“So is most everything else. Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure. Thanks again.”
* * *
Michelle parked her car in front of the house, noted that she really needed to take it through the car wash, and started toward the front door. Sara’s car was missing. She hadn’t mentioned being away. Not a problem, however, since Michelle had a key.
She started to put it into the lock, just as it opened on its own. And there was Gabriel, tanned and handsome and smiling.
“Gabriel!” She threw herself into his arms, to be lifted, and hugged, and swung around once, twice, three times, in an embrace so hungry that she never wanted to be free again.
“When did you get home?” she asked at his ear.
“About ten minutes ago,” he murmured into her neck. “You smell of roses.”
“New perfume. Sara bought it for me.” She drew back just enough to see his face, her arms still around his neck, his arms still holding her close. She searched his eyes at point-blank range and felt her heart go into overdrive. She could barely breathe. He felt like heaven in her arms. She looked at his mouth, chiseled, perfect, and wondered, wondered so hard, how it would feel if she moved just a little, if she touched her lips to it...
His hand caught in her long hair and pulled. “No,” he said through his teeth.
She met his eyes. She saw there, or thought she saw, the same burning hunger that was beginning to tauten her young body, to kindle needs she’d never known she had.
Her lips parted on a shaky breath. She stared at him. He stared back. There seemed to be no sound in the world, nothing except the soft rasp of her breathing and the increasing heaviness of his own. Against her flattened breasts, she could feel the warm hardness of his chest, the thunder of his heartbeat.
One of his hands slid up and down her spine. His black eyes dropped to her mouth and lingered there until she almost felt the imprint of them, like a hard, rough kiss. Her nails bit into him where her hands clung.
She wanted him. He could feel it. She wanted his mouth, his hands, his body. Her breath was coming in tiny gasps. He could feel her heartbeat behind the soft, warm little breasts pressed so hard to his chest. Her mouth was parted, moist, inviting. He could grind his own down into it and make her moan, make her want him, make her open her arms to him on the long, soft sofa that was only a few steps away....
She was eighteen. She’d never lived. There hadn’t been a serious romance in her young life. He could rob her of her innocence, make her a toy, leave her broken and hurting and old.
“No,” he whispered. He forced himself to put her down. He held her arms, tightly, until he could force himself to let go and step back.
She was shaky. She felt his hunger. He wasn’t impervious to her. But he was cautious. He didn’t want to start anything. He was thinking about her age. She knew it.
“I won’t...always be eighteen,” she managed.
He nodded, very slowly. “One day,” he promised. “Perhaps.”
She brightened. It was like the sun coming out. “I’ll read lots of books.”
His eyebrows arched.
“You know. On how to do...stuff. And I’ll buy a hope chest and fill it up with frothy little black things.”
The eyebrows arched even more.
“Well, it’s a hope chest. As in, I hope I’ll need it one day when you think I’m old enough.” She pursed her lips and her gray eyes twinkled. “I could fake my ID....”
“Give it up.” He chuckled.
She shrugged. “I’ll grow up as fast as I can,” she promised. She glowered at him. “I won’t like it if I hear about you having orgies with strange women.”
“Most women are strange,” he pointed out.
She hit his chest. “Not nice.”
“How’s the driving?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I haven’t hit a tree, run off the road or approached a ditch since you left,” she said smugly. “I haven’t even dinged the paint.”
“Good girl,” he said, chuckling. “I’m proud of you. How’s the job coming along?’
“It’s great! I’m working on this huge story! It may have international implications!”
Odd, how worried he looked for a few seconds. “What story?”
“It involves a kidnapping,” she continued.
He frowned.
“A chicken was involved,” she added, and watched his face clear and become amused. “A little girl whose doll was taken away for punishment stole a chicken and dressed it in doll’s clothes. I understand she’ll be cleaning the house for days to come.”
He laughed heartily. “The joys of small-town reporting,” he mused.
“They never end. How was your trip?”
“Long,” he said. “And I’m starving.”
“Sara made a lovely casserole. I’ll heat you up some.”
He sat down at the kitchen table and watched her work. She made coffee and put a mug of it, black, at his place while she dealt with reheating the chicken casserole.
She warmed up a piece of French bread with butter to go with it. Then she sat down and watched him eat while she sipped her own coffee.
“It sure beats fried snake,” he murmured.
She blinked. “What?”
“Well, we eat what we can find. Usually, it’s a snake. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, a big bird or some fish.”
“In an office building?” she exclaimed.
He glanced at her with amusement. “It’s not always in an office building. Sometimes we have to go out and look at...projects, wherever they might be. This time, it was in a jungle.”
“Wow.” She was worried now. “Poisonous snakes?”
“Mostly. It doesn’t really affect the taste,” he added.
“You could get bitten,” she persisted.
“I’ve been bitten, half a dozen times,” he replied easily. “We always carry antivenin with us.”
“I thought you were someplace safe.”
He studied her worried face and felt a twinge of guilt. “It was just this once,” he lied, and he smiled. “What I do is rarely dangerous.” Another lie. A bigger one. “Nothing to concern you. Honest.”
She propped her face in her hands, her elbows on the table, and watched him finish his meal and his coffee.
“Stop that,” he teased. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for twenty-odd years.”
She grimaced. “Okay. Just checking.”
“I promise not to get killed.”
“If you do, I’m coming after you. Boy, will you be sorry, too.”
He laughed. “I hear you.”
“Want dessert? We have a cherry pie.”
He shook his head. “Maybe later. Where’s Sara?”
“I have no idea. She didn’t even leave a note.”
He pulled out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial. He got up and poured more coffee into his cup while he waited.
“Where are you?” he asked after a minute.
There was a reply. He glanced at Michelle, his lips pursed, his eyes twinkling. “Yes, she’s right here.”
Another silence. He sat back down. He was nodding.
“No, I think it’s a very good idea. But you might have asked for my input first....No, I agree, you have exquisite taste....Yes, that’s true, returns are possible. I won’t tell her. How long?...Okay. See you then.” He smiled. “Me, too. Thanks.”
He hung up.
“Where is she?” she asked.
“On her way home. With a little surprise.”
“Something for me?” she asked, and her face brightened.
“I’d say so.”
“But you guys have already given me so much,” she began, protesting.
“You can take that up with my sister,” he pointed out. “Not that it will do you much good. She’s very stubborn.”
She laughed. “I noticed.” She paused. “What is it?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
* * *
Sara pulled up into the driveway and got out of her car. She popped the truck and dragged out several big shopping bags. She handed some to Gabriel and one to Michelle. She was grinning from ear to ear.
“What in the world...?” Michelle exclaimed.
“Just a few little odds and ends that you’re going to need to start college. Come on inside and I’ll show you. Gabriel, get your nose out of that bag, it’s private!”
He laughed and led the way into the house.
* * *
Michelle was speechless. Sara had exquisite taste in clothing, and it showed in the items she’d purchased for their houseguest. There was everything from jeans and sweats to dresses and handbags and underwear, gossamer gowns and an evening gown that brought tears to Michelle’s eyes because it was the loveliest thing she’d ever seen.
“You like them?” Sara asked, a little worried.
“I’ve never had things like this,” she stammered. “Daddy was so sick that he never thought of shopping with me. And when Roberta took me, it was just for bras and panties, never for nice clothes.” She hugged Sara impulsively. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”
“You might try on that gown. I wasn’t sure about the size, but we can exchange it if it doesn’t fit. I’ll go have coffee with Gabriel while you check the fit.” She smiled, and left Michelle with the bags.
* * *
They were sipping coffee in the kitchen when Michelle came nervously to the doorway. She’d fixed her hair, put on shoes and she was wearing the long, creamy evening gown with its tight fit and cap sleeves, revealing soft cleavage. There was faint embroidery on the bodice and around the hem. The off-white brought out the highlights in Michelle’s long, pale blond hair, and accentuated her peaches-and-cream complexion. In her softly powdered face, her gray eyes were exquisite.
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