Three Brides, No Groom (5 page)

Soon they were back on the road again, breezing down the
highway, soaking up the sunshine and scenery. And she realized he was right. It
was
uncomfortable riding in wet jeans.

The sun was just beginning to set by the time they reached
Newport. Dozens of mammoth kites of various colors and designs battled the wind,
rising and plummeting on the fickle fancy of the currents. Campfires flickered
here and there along the beach, competing in color with the setting sun.

Gretchen was tired, more tired than she wanted to admit, even
to herself. They hadn’t traveled nearly as far as Josh had hoped they would, but
then, they’d gotten a late start and taken two hours out for a picnic lunch.

Josh parked the Harley and reached for her hand once they’d
stored the helmets. “Let’s get you a hotel room tonight.”

She didn’t miss the implication. While she was nestled up warm
in a bed, he would be sleeping on the beach. Alone and cold.

“Hey, I go where you go,” she said.

His eyebrows shot up. “Is that an invitation to your bed?”

She blushed. “No.”

“Pity.” He grinned at her.

Josh teasing? Josh joking? His brief smile went a long way
toward lightening her spirits. “You’re nothing but a big phony,” she
declared.

His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Beneath that he-man exterior, you’re a pussycat.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it, if I were you.”

“But I already am.”

Once again she found Josh grinning as he located a quiet spot
on the beach, one protected from the elements as well as the curious stares of
others. Soon they had a fire of their own blazing away. While he unpacked their
things, Gretchen smoothed an area of sand and spread the blanket over it.
Silently they worked together as a team, then sat down in front of the fire.

“Why’d you want to get me a hotel room?” she asked. They had a
wonderful spot on the beach, she realized. The weather was great, and she was as
comfortable here as she would be on any bed.

He didn’t answer, and Gretchen, puzzled, glanced at him. “You
assumed I need to be pampered, right?” It irked her that he would think that,
and her tone told him as much. People often assumed that, because her family was
wealthy, she’d been spoiled and coddled her whole life. Certainly she’d been
given opportunities that weren’t available to most people her age, but her
parents had never overindulged her.

Josh shook his head. “When I first met you, I assumed you’d be
another one of those spoiled rich kids, but you’ve proved otherwise.”

She was pleased. Pleased enough to forget her inhibitions, lean
over and kiss him. The action had been purely instinctive, without
forethought.

He leaned back in surprise. “What was that for?”

“To thank you for the compliment.”

“I complimented you?”

Willing to admit her weariness now, she let her body rest
against his, her head on his shoulder. After a time he put his arm around her,
and she smiled, utterly content.

“Tell me about your family,” she said lazily. If she hadn’t
been propped against him, she might not have felt the tension shoot through him.
His back went rigid, and his arms stiffened slightly. She’d done it again. Just
when it seemed they were comfortable with each other she’d said something to
upset the delicate balance. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten that his father
was in prison and he didn’t want to talk about it. “Josh, I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean to pry. It’s just that my own family is so much a part of me.”

He didn’t respond for what seemed like an eternity, and when he
did speak, his voice was gruff with emotion. “My mother died when I was
sixteen.” His hand stroked her upper arm, as if he needed the reassurance of
human contact.

Gretchen placed a hand over his. “I’m sorry,” she
whispered.

“It happens. My dad was never the same. It was as if he
couldn’t bear the agony of losing her, so he chose to self-destruct. He’s
serving time, as you know.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask. Instead,
she brought his hand to her face and gently laid her cheek against it.

“A lot of people wonder how I landed at Queen Anne,” he
continued, his voice close to her ear. “My grandfather left me money in the form
of a trust, the condition being that, if I wanted a college education, I attend
his alma mater.”

“Do you want a college education?”

His short laugh was without humor. “I went, didn’t I?”

All evidence she’d seen to this point said he wanted anything
but what Queen Anne had to offer. Josh constantly challenged authority. He
appeared to go out of his way to cause trouble. Why, only the day before he had
given Roger the incentive and opportunity to end his college career right as he
was about to graduate. And it would be just like Roger to make whatever trouble
he could for Josh and delight in it.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked, changing the subject. “Why’d you
slug Roger? He’ll go out of his way to use it against you.”

“Let him,” Josh answered. “I can deal with it.”

“But—”

“The bastard deserved it.”

That much Gretchen agreed with. It had been all she could do
not to cheer when she saw Roger’s bloody nose. Especially after he’d attempted
to sucker-punch Josh.

Before she allowed herself to think what she was doing, she
broke away from him, shifted position and knelt in front of him. His questioning
gaze met hers in the dim light afforded by the fire. Smiling, she placed a hand
on either side of his face and leaned forward to kiss him.

The surge of desire she experienced when their lips met was
enough to make her bold. She wrapped her arms around his neck as their mouths
worked together in a frenzy of tongues, lips and unmistakable desire. She
offered and he took, greedily.

Abruptly Josh jerked his mouth away from hers. He sat back,
panting, his shoulders heaving. “What was that for?” he demanded.

Gretchen’s eyes remained closed. “Don’t ask. Just kiss me like
that again.”

“No.”

“No?” Disappointed, she opened her eyes. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t have a clue what you’re doing.” He stood,
and she was pleased to note that he didn’t look very steady. She felt decidedly
off balance herself, but somehow it was a good feeling.

“Wipe that silly grin off your face,” he muttered.

If she hadn’t been so happy she would have been downright
insulted. He’d kissed her and it had been the most wonderful experience of her
life. Now he didn’t seem able to hold still. He circumnavigated the blanket
three times. She was getting dizzy watching him.

Suddenly it dawned on her, and it was all she could do to keep
from giggling. “Joshua Morrow, I tempt you, don’t I?”

He started to deny it and then appeared to think better of it.
“I’m getting you that hotel room, and I don’t want any arguments, understand?”
His voice was hard and unfriendly. “You’ll sleep alone, too.” She wasn’t sure if
he was saying that for her benefit or his.

Gretchen covered her mouth in an effort to contain a brewing
fit of laughter.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he demanded.

“Like what?”

“Like…that.” He shrugged as if at a complete loss for
words.

She had never seen Josh unnerved, had never suspected she would
be one to shatter his cool. It told her that their kisses had affected him as
much as they had her. She felt almost giddy with a sense of wonder and
power.

“Come on,” he ordered brusquely.

“Where are we going?”

“I told you. I’m getting you a motel room for the night.”

“Josh—”

“Don’t argue with me.” From the tight set of his mouth and his
combative stance, she wasn’t inclined to do so.

“Oh, all right, but you’re being ridiculous.”

She rolled her eyes, and then, feeling happier than she had all
day, she gathered up her personal items and obediently followed him to the bike.
They set off and didn’t find a vacancy until their third stop. Although she was
the one who registered, the man at the desk handed the room key to Josh. He
hesitated before accepting it; he obviously didn’t want the man to think he
would be spending the night with her. Finally his hand closed over the key, and
he escorted her outside.

The room was small, the furniture cheap, but overall the place
looked clean, despite the faint stale scent hanging in the air. Gretchen set the
tote bag holding her belongings on top of the bed.

Josh stood outside the room, his arms crossed in a defensive
way that defied her to even try to talk to him. She’d seen him assume that same
stance at college a hundred times. The hard-edged look that said he didn’t give
a rip about anything or anyone, so you had better keep your distance.

“This OK?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she assured him.

“Good. I’ll be going, then.”

“You won’t leave me, will you?” she blurted without pausing to
think he might take her question differently than she intended. “In the
morning,” she clarified. “You’ll still be here, won’t you?” The thought of not
seeing him again hit her with a pain she hadn’t anticipated.

His features softened fractionally before he spoke. “I’d never
do that. I said I’d deliver you to your family, and I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Out of gratitude, or perhaps relief, she walked across the room
and hugged him. He returned the gesture with what felt like reluctance. Once she
was in his embrace, she closed her eyes, savoring the closeness.

“Good night,” he whispered, and kissed the top of her head.

“Good night,” she returned, stopping herself from asking a
series of unnecessary questions, which she knew would only have been an excuse
to delay him. She didn’t want to think of him out there alone on the beach, but
she couldn’t stop him from going, either.

After what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, they
dropped their arms and stepped away from each other. “I’ll shower here in the
morning, if you don’t mind,” he said.

She nodded and clenched her hands, already missing him—and he
hadn’t even left.

He hesitated for a moment, then was gone.

Alone in her room, Gretchen was certain he’d wanted to tell her
something. She’d recognized the look in his eyes. But whatever it was he’d
decided to keep it to himself.

She showered, enjoying the glorious sensation of standing under
the spray and letting it splash over her face. She slipped into her pajamas and
used a sweater for extra warmth. Then, sitting on the bed, she watched TV and
brushed her hair, or what there was of it. She wondered how long it would take
her to get used to its being this short. Josh had worked miracles with the hack
job she’d done. She sighed. For two days they’d spent nearly every minute
together, and without him there to share these quiet moments, it felt as if a
part of her was missing.

The program ended, and she was about to turn off the television
and go to sleep when a loud knock sounded against her door.

She scrambled off the bed, wondering who on earth could be
coming to her room this late. “Who is it?” she called, making her voice sound
strong and confident.

No response.

“I’m not opening this door until I know who’s there.”

Another moment passed before the answer came.

“Josh.”

Chapter 4

“J
osh!” Gretchen undid the locks and threw
open the door. Why was he here, especially after acting as if he couldn’t be rid
of her fast enough?

“Hi.” He stood on the other side of the door, looking decidedly
uncomfortable, as though
he
wasn’t entirely sure
himself why he was there, either.

“Come in.” She stepped aside to let him pass, yet he made no
move to venture farther than the doorway.

“I can’t,” he muttered. He rubbed his hand down his face and
shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

“You wanted something?” she asked. She drew the sweater more
tightly about her and was glad she’d thought to wear socks. Frowning, she
thought she smelled beer on him.

He seemed to read her thoughts. “I figured it’d take a little
fortification to say what needs to be said.”

“It’s that bad?”

“It’s about what happened,” he said.

“What happened?” She wasn’t playing dumb. She honestly didn’t
know what he meant.

“Us, you know?”

“About us…kissing, you mean?”

“Yeah.” He buried his hands in his jeans pockets, and his gaze
stubbornly refused to meet hers.

Gretchen had never seen Josh look so self-conscious or tense.
She waited, deciding to let him speak without further coaxing from her. The
seconds ticked by, and still he remained silent.

At last he met her gaze and said, “Don’t put any stock in those
kisses, all right?” His words were stark and half-angry.

At first she didn’t respond, but then she couldn’t keep from
asking, “Why not?”

“Because,” he said forcefully, “girls like you don’t get
involved with guys like me, understand?”

“Josh—”

He raised a hand, stopping her. “Let me speak. You’ve had a
miserable couple of days, and—”

“But I haven’t, not really, I—” His gaze narrowed at her
interruption and she shut up.

“You’re no longer engaged to Junior Warbucks. You’re separated
from your family at a time when you need their love and support most. It’s only
natural for you to turn to me for comfort—natural, but not advisable.”

“You’re making me sound like a child.”

“Whatever,” he announced crisply. “Listen, Gretchen, don’t set
your sights on me. I’m not your type.”

She opened her mouth to argue that he was quite possibly
exactly
the type of man she could love, but he stopped
her once again, yanking the rug out from under her feet.

“And you’re not my type, either,” he growled. “I can’t say it
any plainer than that, can I?”

His words smarted, and she instinctively jerked back, as if
she’d taken a punch in the solar plexus. Every breath brought her pain.

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he said. “You’re a sweet
kid, but it’s best to get this out in the open before you end up getting
hurt.”

He thought of her as a kid! Worse, a sweet kid! He made it
sound like she was in pigtails, skipping down the beach licking a rainbow
lollipop.

“I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us,” he
continued. “I’ll deliver you to your family, and that’ll be the end of it. So
don’t be putting any weight on that kiss. It should never have happened—but I
blame myself. Rest assured, nothing like that will happen again.”

“That was what you wanted to say?” she asked, as though
exceedingly bored. She wrapped her dignity about her as tightly as she had the
sweater.

His eyes registered his surprise at her easy acceptance.
“Yeah.”

“Fine, then, you’ve said it.”

He blinked once. No doubt he’d anticipated an argument. Well,
she wasn’t about to give him one. If that was the way he felt, she wasn’t going
to force herself on him. After all, she still had a thin layer of pride, which
was about all she’d managed to salvage after Roger. And what little remained she
was determined to guard very carefully.

“If you don’t have anything more to say, I’d like to go to
bed.” She forced a loud yawn. She would go to bed, all right, but she knew it
would be one hell of a long time before she slept.

Josh turned abruptly and walked away.

Gretchen shut the door, closed her eyes and pressed her
forehead against the cool wood. Her heart was heavy. Practically speaking, she
had no choice but to accept him at his word. But he hadn’t fooled her. He was
interested in her. Very interested.

Her fingers investigated her short hair as she climbed into
bed. She lay there a good long time before she reached for the nightstand and
turned out the light.

* * *

In the morning they were overly polite with each other,
behaving like awkward strangers with nothing in common and little to say. They
got an early start, hitting the road shortly after seven, fortified only with
coffee. Neither was hungry. If they rode hard, didn’t stop often or for long,
they would reach San Francisco by evening, Josh told her. The minute they were
on the highway, Gretchen could see that he was determined to be rid of her that
day. He set a killing pace.

She sat stiffly behind him as they roared down the highway,
doing her best to avoid touching him. He, too, was avoiding her. Unlike the
previous day, when he’d stopped every few miles to admire the view and to give
her the opportunity to talk, he pressed on with punishing determination.

When he did finally pull off the highway, it was to gas up.
Although she didn’t complain, Gretchen’s entire body ached, especially her
back.

He climbed off the Harley while she slowly eased herself from
the seat and headed into the small mom-and-pop grocery for something to
drink.

“Do you want anything?” she asked, making sure she sounded
friendly yet reserved.

“Nothing.” Then, as if in afterthought, he added, “Thanks.”

She walked into the store. After checking to be sure he
couldn’t see her, she rubbed some of the soreness from her buttocks and the
small of her back. She stopped when she discovered the elderly male clerk eyeing
her with appreciative interest. He had the good grace to look embarrassed when
she glared back at him.

Doing her best to walk normally, she made her way to the rest
room. Afterwards she stopped at the refrigeration unit and reached for a bottle
of spring water. Her mouth was dry, her body sore and miserable, and her heart
was heavy. Not a good way to start the day.

As she stood in line to pay for her purchase, she noted the
flashing red and blue lights of a police cruiser.

“What’s going on?” she asked the man at the counter.

The clerk craned his neck to see out the grimy window. “Looks
like they’re arresting some young fellow. He better pay for his gas before they
haul him away. Otherwise I’m gonna confiscate his Harley.”

“His Harley?” Gretchen repeated. Her heart, which had felt
sluggish and lackadaisical only seconds earlier, shot into overdrive. The police
were arresting Josh! Leaving her purchase on the counter, she raced out the door
half a second in front of the clerk.

It was worse than she’d feared. Josh had his arms handcuffed
behind his back and was being pushed toward the cruiser. Even from a distance of
ten feet she could feel the anger emanating from him. His eyes were wild and his
jaw so tight his face had gone white.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded, outraged on his behalf
and not afraid to let it show.

The officer barely glanced her way. “Do you know this man?”

“I most certainly do.” Her hands flew to her hips and she
braced her feet, prepared to do battle. “Why is he handcuffed?”

The officer spoke without emotion. “He matches the description
of a robbery suspect—age, height, clothes. Motorcycle. All adds up to probably
cause.” The officer met her eyes, silently daring her to challenge him.

She didn’t doubt the patrolman would welcome an excuse to haul
her away, too, but she refused to give him one. Josh needed her free.

The officer resumed shoving Josh toward the patrol car.

“What about his rights?” she cried, desperately trying to find
an excuse to delay him.

“I read him his rights.”

“Gretchen.” Josh furiously whispered her name under his breath
in warning.

“He has a right to an attorney.” She looked to the clerk for
confirmation.

“He owes me eight bucks for gas,” the man said.

“I’ll pay for the stupid gas!” Her heart hammered as she paced
in front of the police officer. Josh was now sitting in the patrol car, his eyes
closed as if he was mentally removing himself from the ugly scene.

“Do you have a license to drive that bike?” the patrolman asked
her.

She glanced over her shoulder at the Harley. Josh’s pride and
joy. The symbol of his rebellion. “Yes, I’ve got a license,” she lied, knowing
that if she didn’t, the police would impound the bike. Heaven only knew how long
it would be before Josh got it back, and she couldn’t risk that.

“You’ll take care of it, then?”

Although she knew it was pointless to protest, she did anyway.
“Look. Josh didn’t commit a robbery. He was with me all morning. We left Newport
Beach at seven. You can call the motel and they’ll verify…” She trailed off,
remembering that she was the one who’d registered for the room, not Josh. He
hadn’t spent the night with her. She couldn’t account for his whereabouts every
minute of the night. But in her heart, she knew he would never rob anyone.

“Leave it,” Josh said, his voice low and tight, sharp with
frustration.

Gretchen clenched her hands into fists, finding it impossible
to stand by and do nothing. She was the only one who appreciated how humiliating
this was for him. How difficult. The pain in his eyes when he’d told her about
his father being in prison haunted her. Now to face jail himself for something
he couldn’t have done, wouldn’t have done…

“Please,” she whispered, feeling helpless and small. She wasn’t
even sure who she was asking for help.

“We were in Newport Beach last night,” she said, so fast the
words ran together. She was willing to say anything, do anything, that would
convince the officer he had the wrong man.

A sly smile lit the patrolman’s face. “Yes, I know.”

She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to offer any more
unsolicited information. She wanted to help, not hurt, Josh’s cause. Her chest
tightened painfully, and she found it impossible to stand still.

The patrolman opened the driver’s door and climbed into the
vehicle. She planted her palms against the passenger window. “Josh!” she cried,
wanting somehow to reassure him.

He turned his head toward her. Afraid she was about to erupt
into sobs, she covered her mouth with her hand. Josh’s eyes steadily held hers,
and then he smiled. Through his anger, frustration and humiliation, he reached
out to her.
He
was the one reassuring
her.

Gretchen bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood.

“Miss, miss.” The clerk took hold of her shoulders and pulled
her away from the cruiser. She stood back helplessly as Josh was driven away,
her gaze following the car until it was no longer in sight.

The clerk waited an impatient moment while she composed
herself, then asked, “You going to pay for that gas or not?”

“Yes,” she murmured, and stepped back into the store.

When she was back outside, she crossed to the Harley, donned
Josh’s leather jacket, dark glasses and helmet, and swung one leg over the seat,
pretending she knew what she was doing. Not only did she not have a motorcycle
license, she hadn’t so much as twisted the key in the ignition before. She felt
like weeping.

Dragging in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and
decided then and there that she would find a way not only to start the bike, but
ride it. She had to do it for Josh.

He’d been there for her when she’d needed him, hadn’t he? He’d
taught her so much about herself in the past couple of days. She’d felt helpless
and lost when they’d started out together. But he’d believed in her, restored
her faith in herself. She wasn’t going to let him down.

The bike felt enormous between her legs, a monster ready to
overpower her. Her grip tightened on the handlebars. She refused to give in to
anxiety. Refused to be intimidated.

It shouldn’t be that difficult, she realized, forcing herself
to think positively. After all, she’d watched him start the thing any number of
times.

She twisted the key.

The engine didn’t catch.

She tried a second and a third time with the same result.

Breathing hard, she closed her eyes and reminded herself of
everything that was at stake. One more time, she decided, and this time, by
heaven, the bike would start.

She turned the key. When the engine roared, the Harley vibrated
with such force it nearly toppled her.

Releasing a shout of triumph, Gretchen thrust her arms into the
air, feeling like an Olympic champion. She glanced over her shoulder to be sure
the road was clear, then managed to head down the highway and into town.

Her speed increasing, it surprised her how easily she managed
to drive the Harley. Anyone looking at her dressed as she was would assume she
was a motorcycle mama. Let them! One thing was certain: she wasn’t about to let
anyone or anything intimidate her again.

For another, her father and brother were going to hear about
this. Two of San Francisco’s finest attorneys, they would make mincemeat of the
charge against Josh. By the time the dust had settled, Josh Morrow would own
this two-bit town.

Rejuvenated, fire in her blood, Gretchen parked the Harley in
the county courthouse lot. Head high and shoulders squared, she was determined
to make an entrance that rivaled John Wayne in his finest.

“I’d like to see Judge Joseph Logan,” she announced to the
receptionist. She didn’t have a clue who Judge Logan was, but if he insisted on
having his name listed in the front of the courthouse, then he should expect to
take appointments.