She was about to be rescued by some kindly traveler. The car was pulling to a stop behind her.
Olivia sat up straight in the seat and raked her hair back with both hands. She felt marginally better, now that help had arrived. She might have made a mess of everything, but at least she wouldn't be stuck here alone in the freezing rain all night.
In fact, now that she thought about it, it was probably rude of her to just sit here and let her rescuer get all wet. If anyone got drenched it should be her, a girl who didn't even have enough sense to put gas in her car before leaving the main highway in a thunderstorm.
Olivia shoved open her door and stepped out into the driving, icy rain. She was soaked to the skin in ten seconds, the time it took her to close her door and turn with a grateful, if somewhat forced, smile for her deliverer.
But the smile froze into a sneer.
Because her rescuer was Jack.
* * *
Chapter 8
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Jack emerged from his car, which he'd left running, and came straight for her.
Olivia watched him approach, his tall, broad-shouldered body silhouetted in the beams from his headlights. The rain pelted her, plastering her hair to her head, gluing her silly pink outfit to her body. She felt only minimal satisfaction in noting that he was getting just as wet as she was.
"What's the problem?" he asked, when he was close enough that she could hear him without his having to shout. His breath came out as freezing mist.
She clenched her fists at her sides to keep them from scratching his eyes out. "I told you not to follow me."
"I suppose you're out of gas."
"I told you to leave me alone."
"Pop the trunk. I'll get your things."
"I don't want your help."
"Olivia, it's damn wet out here." He reached for the door latch.
She slid to the side and blocked him with her body. The rain truly was very cold. She was starting to shiver. She wrapped her arms around herself. "I won't take your help."
Lightning forked across the sky. Thunder boomed.
Jack spoke with great patience. "You don't have any choice." Water ran off his hawklike nose and over the beard stubble on his cheeks.
He hadn't shaved that morning, she realized. He must have been in a big hurry to chase after her. Her father must really be paying him a lot.
"Come on, Olivia." He sounded tired. "Get in my car and turn up the heater. I'll get your things."
"No." She shivered harder, hunching her shoulders to hoard her body's warmth, pressing herself back against the door.
He shrugged. And before she could yell at him to get his hands off her, he took her by the shoulders and moved her out of his way.
Then he pulled open her door. She watched as he yanked the keys from the ignition, popped the trunk latch and scooped up her purse, all in one fluid movement. He was very efficient, she decided. But then, her father only hired the best.
He slammed the door. "Get in my car. Now."
"No."
They looked at each other through the thick veil of the rain. Even with water running down his nose, she thought, he was the best looking, most purely masculine man she'd ever seen.
She hated him.
But hatred wasn't all of it.
Her traitorous body yearned for him.
Last night he had taught her what she was capable of feeling. It was a lesson that would be engraved on her nerve endings for the rest of her life. And right now it was fresh as a new wound.
She tore her gaze away from his, but it did no good. She only ended up slowly perusing the rest of him. His black knit shirt was stuck to the hard muscles of his torso. His jeans were shiny, slick with the rain, clinging to the strong shape of his legs. He looked good in denim, she decided. More dangerous, more elemental, even more rawly masculine than he did in his suits or his sports clothes.
"Olivia." His voice was rough and husky. It seemed to ignite her already-taut nerves. She realized what she was doing, looking him over with blatant sensual intent. Her head snapped up.
And she was staring right into his eyes again. She read the message in those eyes. She saw that he was thinking exactly what she was thinking.
About last night. About the two of them. About their separate bodies joined and moving as one.
Another javelin of lightning blazed across the sky. The thunder that came after was like giant sheets snapping in a gale-force wind.
"Jack." She barely mouthed his name. She was captured, held by his eyes. All she wanted right then was to throw herself against him, feel his arms close around her and lift her mouth for his kiss.
Her own desire shocked her. She wanted him. Right now. Here, in this wild, unknown place in the driving rain. Even after what he had done, after the way he had betrayed her. Next to the physical need she was feeling, his deception suddenly seemed a paltry thing.
"No." Her voice was low and husky, not convincing at all.
"Olivia."
"No." With a sharp cry she broke the seductive hold of his gaze. She spun on her heel and began walking away, down the narrow road between the tall rows of evergreens, not caring that there was really nowhere to go, only knowing that if she stayed near him for one second longer, she would be begging for his kiss.
Behind her she heard him swear. She waited for him to catch up to her, to dare to touch her. Because she was going to fight him. She was going to kick and scratch and bite to get away from him. He had no right to touch her now. And she would show him that was so.
But he didn't follow. Instead, after a moment or two, she heard her trunk slam. She kept walking, fast as she could, head down, clutching her middle, trying to press her teeth together hard enough that they would stop chattering. Her pink flats were full of water. They squished disgustingly with every step.
But she doggedly put one foot in front of the other, even after she realized that Jack had climbed back in his car and pulled out onto the road again. At first she thought he was going to leave her there, do exactly what she'd ordered him to do. And right at that moment she was glad he was going, even though she had no idea what she would do once his car had disappeared around the next bend.
But she never had to confront that problem. She saw soon enough that he wasn't going anywhere. He only eased in alongside her and drove at a snail's pace to keep even with her.
She walked faster, shivering so hard she almost felt nauseous. But walking faster was a silly and ineffectual gesture, of course. Because he only sped up from three miles an hour to four and stayed with her.
The road took an uphill turn. Head into the wind, she began climbing. The rain beat at her unmercifully. She slogged along.
In ten minutes or so she reached the top of that grade. Ahead of her, by the light of Jack's high beams, she could see that the road twisted down and then vanished around a bend into the trees.
She bent her head again, which kept the worst of the rain off her face, and started down.
She got about five steps before the futility of it all came crashing in on her. She stopped there, on the side of the road, next to a yellow sign with a picture of a leaping deer on it.
Jack, riding slowly and patiently at her side, stopped as well. He leaned across the seat and pushed the passenger door open. With a sigh of resignation she slid into the seat.
She pulled the door closed, her body immediately grateful for the warmth of the heater that was blasting around her freezing bare ankles.
"Here." Jack reached over the seat. "Wrap this around you." It was a thick plaid blanket. She took it from him without comment, wrapping herself in its heavy folds and then huddling against the door.
She closed her eyes as Jack backed the car onto the shoulder and skillfully turned it around. Once they were pointed back the way they'd come, he smoothly depressed the accelerator, and the car picked up speed.
She stayed hugging the door in grim dread. She was sure that once they were really moving, he would star
t talking. Lecturing her for being a fool. Or perhaps taunting her for the way he knew she felt about him. But he didn't. He was a cipher behind the wheel.
And she was grateful. She wasn't in the mood to listen to a single word from him.
She wasn't in the mood for anything but wallowing in her own despondency. She'd thought she'd hit rock bottom back in Las Vegas. But this was a new low altogether.
Slowly her spasmodic shivers faded. Her hair was still sopping wet, and her clothes clung, damp and uncomfortable, to her body. Her pink shoes felt like wet cardboard against her toes, and she seemed to be enveloped in a musty, humid smell, like wet wool. But at least she didn't feel like she was going to throw up from being so cold.
They reached Highway 80 again in less than twenty minutes. Olivia's depression deepened when she saw how ridiculously close she had been to civilization all the time. She had been driving in circles.
And Jack, who had been following her, knew that she'd managed to get herself lost just a few miles from the freeway. It was one more humiliation on top of all the others.
She was leaning against the passenger door pondering this most recent disgrace when Jack spoke. "We'll stop there and get a room." She glanced his way in time to see the sign he was gesturing at.
Gas Food Lodging
TRUCK PLAZA
NEXT RIGHT
"You need to get out of those wet clothes," he added, sounding defensive. "And I want to change, too. And a good night's sleep wouldn't hurt either of us."
She didn't answer, only looked out the windshield at the pounding sheets of slushy rain.
"Olivia, you'll feel better in the morning. Then you can decide what you want to do next."
She leaned against the door again and closed her eyes. She knew very well what would happen in the morning. He would inform her that now that she was rested, she was ready to go back to Daddy where she belonged.
"Olivia." He swore, low and feelingly. "Okay, I'll take your silence for agreement." He turned the wheel toward the off ramp.
When he pulled to a stop, she sat up and looked around. They were parked before the lobby doors of the Highway Haven Motel. Out the windshield she could see the coffee shop and truck stop, which branched off the motel in an L. Out her side window she spied a few cars and pickups, looking small and lost in the pouring rain. Beyond the cars and pickups loomed a row of big rigs.
"I'll be able to see you from inside the lobby," Jack said.
She let out a tired breath of air. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means if you get any more crazy ideas about running off, I'll see you go."
She leaned her elbow on the door and rested her head on her hand. "Jack, this may come as a shock to you, but I'm a grown adult. And this is the United States of America. You have no right to stop me from going anywhere I want to go."
"I didn't say I'd stop you. I won't stop you. But I won't let you wander off alone, either."
"You mean you'd follow me."
"You got it. So stay here."
She shook her head.
"What does that mean?" he demanded.
She slanted him a look. "It means I'm too tired to fight with you right now."
"You'll stay here, then?"
She made a low noise of disgust. "Sure."
"Do I have your word?"
She made the same noise again. "Sure." She gave him a direct look. "I promise I'll stay here."
He stared at her for a moment. Then he seemed to decide her word was something he could trust.
"Good," he said. "I'll be right back." He got out of the car and went in through the glass doors. He glanced at her once before turning his back to her and enlisting the night clerk to check him into a room.
Olivia watched him, sitting very still. After thirty seconds it was clear that he'd decided she was too beaten and dejected to try any more crazy stunts tonight.
Good, she thought grimly. Because she wasn't quite as beaten as she'd led Jack to believe. And right then he should have known that her word could not be trusted.
She knew she didn't have much time. A minute or two at the most, before he either turned around again or finished at the check-in desk.
She looked around for her purse, but it wasn't on the front seat. He'd either put it in the back seat or tossed it in his trunk.
Well, too bad. She'd do without it. This was a point of honor as far as Olivia was concerned. She had to get away before Jack returned her to her father as if she were some naughty, runaway little girl with no power at all over her own destiny.
Olivia tossed the blanket off her shoulders, leaned on her door and swung her feet to the pavement. Hunched over, not daring the slightest glance back, she shoved the door closed and made a beeline through the rain for the row of huge trucks that stood so tall and proud at the edge of the lot.
She slipped between them. Then she crouched against the nearest one, the rain pelting her. She was listening for Jack's pursuit. But what she heard instead was the sound of a truck's powerful engine starting up. It wasn't the one she crouched against, but the one right next to it, a shiny maroon affair with a huge picture of a pretty blond woman painted on the trailer. She was just staring into the wide brown eyes of the bigger-than-life-size blonde when she saw and heard the driver's door of the maroon rig swing open.
Her own swiftness astounded her. She was around the back of the maroon rig before its driver jumped to the pavement. She bent down and watched the man's booted feet under the truck as they went the way she had come. As he moved toward the back, she inched forward, past another giant-size rendering of the same pretty blonde that adorned the other side of the trailer. She found herself at the front of the truck just as its driver reached the back. She heard him fool with something back there, probably checking to see that the big doors were firmly shut.
The driver's door was still open, the engine still running at a low, smooth idle. Not daring a glance at the motel, where Jack was probably discovering right now that she wasn't where she was supposed to be, Olivia darted past the nose of the truck and reached the driver's side. With a low grunt she hoisted herself up and into the cab. Then she saw the curtains behind the seat and knew they must lead to that little area behind the cab where the truck driver could sleep during long-distance rides.
Praying the driver wouldn't notice the extra water in his truck, since he himself was probably pretty wet by now, she slithered up over the seat and through the curtains.
She found herself on a bed that was surprisingly comfortable. Swiftly she scooted around to make sure the curtains were in place. Then she froze, hardly daring to breathe, as she heard the driver climb back into the cab.
The cab door slammed. The driver turned on the radio, and country music played. She heard the massive gears shifting. And the truck was moving.
She couldn't believe it. They were driving away. She had actually escaped from Jack.
She closed her eyes, feeling a lovely surge of self-righteous triumph. And then the triumph faded.
Now what was she going to do with herself?
And, now that she had a minute to think about it, what about Jack? Leaving him in his room at a Las Vegas hotel had been one thing. But escaping him here, at a truck stop on Highway 80 after dark, was something else altogether.
He would be worried sick. Even if he'd made love to her under false pretenses, she knew he still felt responsible for her. And her disappearing like this would not be easy for him to take.
Olivia rolled over on the bed and contemplated the nearby ceiling. Oh, what was the matter with her? That Jack Roper might experience a little emotional distress when he found she was gone was the least of her problems right now.
And, anyway, what else could she have done? She wasn't about to return to her father. Never again. Not until she was a grown woman in more than just years.
Olivia realized she was shivering again. Now that the adrenaline rush of running from Jack had passed, her whole body ached and shook with c
old. Luckily the bed had blankets.
In fact, now that her eyes were adjusted to the dimness, she could see that this cozy sleeping place was quite nicely appointed. There was a little square of floor, a narrow door that would allow exit without going over the seat of the cab, some cupboards and even a microwave. She gave a little sigh and knew she could have done much worse than having to spend a few hours in this snug portable room.
If she was lucky, she might even manage to slip out when the truck stopped, without the driver even knowing she'd been there. It would be one less embarrassing moment that she'd have to live through.
Gently she slid off her soggy flats and set them in the corner by the pillow, against the cab, where they wouldn't fall off onto the tiny floor and alert the driver that he wasn't traveling alone. She slipped under the blankets and pulled them gratefully up around her chin.
The bed was comfortable, really comfortable, she decided. Her eyes drooped closed.
Sleep came like stepping off a cliff, a quick drop into the waiting arms of oblivion.
"All right, Mr. Roper, we've got the description. We can keep an eye out for her."
"In case she turns up dead in a ditch, you mean," Jack supplied grimly.
The deputy gave him a wounded look. "There's only so much we can do. You gotta know that. Without signs of a struggle or any evidence of foul play, all we've got is an adult female who decided she didn't want to stay where she was."
Jack knew the deputy was right. He stood. "Fine. Well, you have the description. I'll be at the Highway Haven Motel until morning. And I'll call here before I move on."
"Sounds good. Sorry we can't do more."
"Yeah, I know. Thanks, anyway." Jack turned with a wave and left the sheriff's small station.
Outside, the rain was still coming down heavily. He stood in the shelter of the overhanging portico and stared out at the darkness and the storm.
He'd been a damned idiot, just as he'd always been when it came to the beer baron's daughter. He'd been sure she was finished, too worn-out to try any more funny stuff. And he'd taken her word that she would stay where he'd left her. He'd turned his back on her for two full minutes. And she'd used that time to get away.
A HOME FOR THE HUNTER Page 9
