Mystery Bride. B.J. DanielsЧитать онлайн книгу.
tracked her down to ask her for a date! Her luck with men definitely wasn’t improving.
When he’d first gotten into the Firebird, she’d been so sure it was about her busting the commissioner at his sister’s party. Obviously he still didn’t realize what she’d been doing there. But when he did—
She glanced over at him. What would he do? She’d thought she had him all figured out. Until he climbed into her car and refused to get out. From what she’d learned about the man, that was so far out of character that it wasn’t even in his solar system anymore.
She eyed him, wondering what had caused such impetuous behavior.
Hello? Remember the way you kissed him at the party?
Come on, one little kiss?
She narrowed her gaze at him. Did she have reason to be concerned about what he’d do next? No, she didn’t think she could expect any more surprises out of him. What you saw was what you got: a successful businessman in control of his normal everyday life and happy about it. Except, he didn’t look all that happy right now.
She grimaced at the thought, as the Firebird left the pavement and barreled up the narrow dirt road toward the mountains. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will’s brow shoot up. She ignored his pointed look.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not taking me to the next town where I can get out?”
“We can’t go there just yet,” she said. “But trust me, I’m as anxious to let you out of this car as you are to get out.”
“I highly doubt that.”
She groaned inwardly, wishing they could have met under other circumstances— Who was she kidding? It wouldn’t have made any difference. Eventually he’d find out the truth about her, and a man like Will Sheridan wasn’t going to take that well.
No reason to think about might-have-beens. She had to deal with now, and that was going to be challenging enough.
WILL LOOKED UP the empty road, at the sun setting behind distant low mountains, the day fading into the horizon. This was all his fault. What kind of fool spotted a woman at a party and followed her out to the patio with two full glasses of champagne, thinking to himself, This is the woman I’m going to marry?
He didn’t even want to consider what kind of fool would get into her car and refuse to get out.
Just a fool who knew what he wanted and went after it, the consequences be damned. He’d planned his life since before kindergarten, from when to become skilled at the alphabet to what point he should move on to the multiplication tables.
In high school he’d decided he wanted to construct buildings and eventually start his own construction company. He wasn’t like his college friends who changed majors four times. Or who, unbelievably, started college not even knowing what they wanted to be.
He couldn’t imagine letting life toss him around like a fallen leaf, blowing wherever the breeze took him. He had a plan—from the clothing he wore to the food he ate to the woman he wanted to marry.
So what was he doing handcuffed to the dash of this woman’s Firebird? This had definitely not been in his plan.
Worse yet, he’d never been so aware of a woman. Or less happy about it: the faint smell of her perfume, the soft sound of each breath, the warm pulsing air around her.
Not that she was making it easy to ignore her. Especially the way she was dressed. What little her sparse clothing did leave to the imagination, he had no trouble supplying.
But she was all wrong for his bride. That much was obvious. He wanted a woman with a career that at least complemented his. A woman who wanted to bear his children. Not steal someone else’s. A woman who didn’t carry a gun. Or beat up strange men in broad daylight in front of rest homes. Was he asking too much?
God, I’ll bet she hasn’t even started a 401K, he thought miserably.
He watched as she drove up a narrow dirt road as if she knew where she was going. He didn’t doubt she did.
The road ended high on a mountainside at the bottom of a rock cliff. Through a stand of dark green ponderosa pines, he spotted a house set back against the cliff.
He stared at the small wood-frame house with the two-car attached garage. The place appeared empty, the curtains drawn, no lights glowing behind them in the growing dusk.
Samantha pulled up to the garage door on the left and reached under her seat. He half expected her to come out with a weapon again. Or a crowbar to break into the place. Nothing would have surprised him at that point.
Except a garage-door opener. She hit the button, and the door groaned open, the light coming on inside to reveal a single empty bay separated from the other half of the garage by a wall with a door.
“You live here?” he asked in shock.
She shook her head as she pulled the Firebird into the space and shut off the engine. “It’s my cousin’s place.” She put an arm around Zack. “I would imagine you’re hungry.”
The boy nodded, unhooked his seat belt and stood again to look out the rear window as if he feared they’d been followed.
“You’re safe here, Zack,” she said. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” he said.
Well, I am, Will thought.
“Come on,” she said, opening her car door. “There should be food in the house.” She started to climb out.
The rattle of handcuffs seemed to stop her. Will felt her gaze finally slide to his. Her look said she didn’t know what to do with him.
He jangled the cuffs and glared at her, more angry with himself than with her. He was the one who’d foolhardily gotten into her car, the one who’d been determined to get a date with her at any cost. Little had he known.
“Sorry.” She dug into the glove box, came up with the key and handed it to him. Why hadn’t he thought to look in there? Because he’d been too engrossed in this woman’s outlandish activities. Awkwardly, he unlocked the cuffs, not looking at her.
“I hate to tell you, but we need to stay here for the night,” she said. “In the morning, I’ll take you to town and rent you a car. I’m afraid that’s the best I can do. I have my reasons.”
He was sure she did. And he didn’t want to know them. Under normal circumstances, he’d have called a taxi. Or demanded she take him now to the nearest town.
But he doubted it was as simple as demanding she take him anywhere. Or calling a taxi. He wasn’t even sure where they were or how far it was to the next town.
And he had gotten himself into this.
“Fine,” he said. “But I can rent my own car.” He handed her the cuffs and key, and she and the boy got out. What was one night? But as she opened the Firebird’s trunk and took out her overnight bag, he reminded himself to watch her more closely should she ever kiss him again.
She put an arm around the boy as she opened the door to the house and ushered him in.
Will followed, not surprised to find the house compact, the decor simple, practical and very male. The air inside was cold and a little musty, as if whoever lived here hadn’t been around for a while.
“Would you mind building a fire while I change, and then I’ll scare us up some food?” she asked as she headed for what appeared to be the smaller of the bedrooms. “There’re split logs out back. I’m sure Zack will help you.”
SAMANTHA DIDN’T WAIT for an answer, just hurried off to get into less revealing clothing. From her bag, she took out jeans and a cable-knit Irish wool sweater. She caught her reflection in the mirror on the back wall and froze. Most of her hair had come out of the ponytail and now hung around her face in curls. She pulled out the scrunchie