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hands on my rifle."
The truck driver sighed with pure relief. "Damn, lady, you can sure handle yourself," he said
with admiration. "If you'd lost your nerve and thrown up your hands, you'd be dead and I'd be a mental
patient."
"I'm sorry." Shelby wept, her nerve broken from the combination of the near miss and the
exquisite ardor of Justin's hard mouth. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even see you coming!"
The truck driver, a young man with red hair, just shook his head, barely able to get his breath.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, forcing a trembling smile. "Thank you for stopping. It wasn't your fault."
"That wouldn't have made me feel any better," she was told. "Well, if you're sure, I'll be on my
way." He looked at Justin, and almost offered to help, but the glitter in those black eyes wasn't
encouraging.
"As my wife said, thanks for stopping," Justin said.
The younger man nodded, smiled and walked away with patent relief, wondering why a woman
that pretty would many such a desperado. He was glad she wasn't hurt. He wouldn't have relished
having to face that wild-eyed husband unarmed.
Justin didn't say another word. He turned, carrying Shelby to the Thunderbird. He balanced her
on his knee, opened the passenger door and put her inside very gently.
"What about my car?" she asked.
His black eyes met hers. "Damn your car," he said huskily. He slammed the door and went
around to get in under the wheel. But he didn't start the car. He sat with his hands, white-knuckled,
gripping the steering wheel for a long moment while Shelby waited for the explosion that she knew
was about to come. Justin had been badly shaken and somebody was going to pay for it. Now that he
was sure she was all right, she could imagine that he was loading both verbal barrels.
"Go ahead, give me hell," she said tearfully, searching in the glove compartment for a tissue. "I
was driving too fast, and I wasn't watching. I deserve every lecture I get." She blew her nose. "How did
you get here so fast?"
He still didn't speak. After a minute, he sat back in the bucket seat and fumbled a cigarette out
of his pocket. He lit it with still-trembling hands, staring straight ahead.
"I followed you," he said curtly. "When I heard you gun the car out of the driveway, I was
afraid you might try to take out your temper on the highway, so I tagged along." His head turned and
his black eyes flashed at her. "My God, I paid for sins I haven't even committed when I saw you spin
out."
She could imagine how it had been for him, having to watch. Even though he didn't love her, it
would have been terrible.
"I'm sorry," she said inadequately, folding her arms across her breasts shakily.
His chest rose and fell with a huge, angry breath. "Are you, really?" he said. He was back in
control now, and the cool smile on his face infuriated her. "Well, you can say goodbye to that damned
sports car. Tomorrow, I'll go downtown with you and steer you toward something safe."
"What did you have in mind, a Sherman tank?" she asked with ice in her tone.
"A bicycle, if you keep this up," he corrected angrily. "I told you once before, Shelby, your
reckless days are over."
"You're not going to order me around!" she shot at him through trembling lips and clenched
teeth. "I'm not your ward!"
"No," he agreed with a mocking smile. "You're my wife, aren't you? My saintly, untouched wife
who can bear anyone's hands except mine."
It was too much. She burst into tears again, turning her face to the window, burying her eyes in
the soggy tissue.
"Don't," he groaned. "For God's sake, stop it I can't stand tears!"
"Then don't look, damn you," she whispered, stomping her foot.
He swore roughly, digging into his pocket for his freshly laundered linen handkerchief. He
thrust it into her trembling hands, feeling as if someone had kicked him.
"You'll make yourself sick. Stop it You're all right. A miss is as good as a mile, isn't it?" he
asked, his voice softer now, deeper. He touched her hair hesitantly. It was all coming back into focus,
little by little. He frowned, because now he remembered something that panic had knocked out of his
mind. She'd touched his face and whispered something, and she'd put her mouth against his to comfort
him. What had she said...?
"You called me darling," he said aloud.
She moved jerkily. "Did I? I must have been out of my mind, mustn't I?" She sniffed and
mopped herself up. "Can we go home, Justin? I need something to drink."
"I could use a neat whiskey myself," he said heavily. His eyes searched over her wan, sad little
face. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm tough," she murmured.
"Tough," he agreed. "And reckless, stupid, impulsive " "You stop that!" she protested. Her
pale green eyes glared at him, red-rimmed. "You kissed me."
She went from white to rose red and averted her eyes. "You were upset."
"I've been upset before, but you never kissed me, Shelby." His dark eyes narrowed as he
reached for the ignition switch. "Come to think of it, in all the years we've known each other, that's the
very first move toward me you've ever made."
She leaned back against the seat, her arms folded. "Justin, my purse is still in the car," she
murmured evasively.
He reached down to the floor, picked it up and put it in her lap. "You grabbed it before I lifted
you clear," he said. "It came along for the ride." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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