Read A Better Reason to Fall in Love Online
Authors: Marcia Lynn McClure
Tags: #Romance, #General, #Contemporary, #Fiction
A Better Reason to Fall in Love (15 page)
“The
guys
at work?” she repeated. “You’re worried about what the
guys
at work would say?”
“Of course,” he said. He shook his head. “Can you imagine?” He looked at her and smiled. “So we’re even now, right? A secret for a secret?”
As the elevator doors opened—as she felt his hand at the small of her back as he guided her out of the elevator and into the parking garage—she said, “Sure. A secret for a secret. Though yours can’t even begin to hang with mine.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” he chuckled.
Jagger opened the passenger door for Tabby. As she slid into the seat, she smiled. Vanilla—vanilla and leather—that was the scent of the inside of Jagger Brodie’s car.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The storm was much worse than Tabby had thought. It seemed visibility through the heavy, blowing snow worsened with each passing moment. For a time after they’d pulled out of the parking garage, Jagger had attempted to draw Tabby into light conversation. She found it difficult, however, to converse. The low visibility and the sight of two cars off one of the main roads had begun to alarm her. Her right hand gripped the seat belt strap at her chest, while her left held white-knuckled to the seat.
“This car is great in the snow,” Jagger said. He smiled, keeping his attention on the road as he added, “And I’m a good driver, Tabby. It’ll be fine.”
Tabby gasped as a car some distance in front of them began to fishtail. Another car was already off the road and in a gully.
“What if we go off?” Tabby asked, terrified. “I don’t care if you’re a good driver. We can still slide off the road.”
“Then we’ll keep warm until the storm is over and a tow truck comes to pull us out,” he said. He wasn’t being facetious. He was completely sincere—and calm—very calm.
Jagger reached over to the stereo console and pushed the CD player on button. From the controls at the left side of the steering wheel, he skipped ahead several disk numbers until Tabby heard the smooth, soothing voice of Diana Krall start to drift through the car.
“Just put your head back against the headrest a moment,” Jagger said as he turned the heater up a couple of notches. He reached into the backseat and pulled a leather jacket to the front. “Here,” he said, placing it over her, still keeping his gaze fixed on the traffic in front of them. “Cover up with this, and just close your eyes awhile. It’ll help you to relax.”
Tabby was too frightened to argue—or to even think coherently. She pulled the leather jacket more snuggly over her shoulders and chest, knowing there would have been no way she could have driven herself home. Her phobia was freaking her out, even with Jagger driving, and she was certain he was capable. She could never have driven herself—not that she would have tried. She wondered for a moment why she’d allowed him to talk her into letting him drive her home. Yet as she glanced over to him—as she felt warmed not only by his jacket but by the fact that she was actually sitting in a car with Jagger Brodie—she knew there wasn’t a woman in the world that would have been able to deny herself the opportunity to be driven home by him.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Put your head back and close your eyes. Try to relax a little. We’ll be there before you know it.”
Tabby did as she was told—rested her head against the headrest of the passenger seat and closed her eyes. In a moment or two, she did feel her body relax a little. Her feet were toasty warm where the heater was blowing on them. And even though she wore her own coat, Jagger’s leather jacket was heavy and added a sense of security. It smelled good too, and she inhaled several long, deep breaths, enjoying the comforting scents of leather and vanilla.
Tabby tried to think of nothing but the feel and smell of Jagger’s jacket—tried to focus on Diana Krall’s soft voice singing “The Look of Love.” She knew Jagger Brodie was a capable man. He’d get her home or keep her safe and warm until he did. At the thought of Jagger keeping her warm, Tabby opened her eyes and looked over at him. He seemed as calm and cool as if he were simply out for a leisurely drive on a summer Sunday afternoon.
He glanced over at her, and she felt herself smile.
“What?” he asked, returning her smile.
“You like Diana Krall,” she answered.
“Yeah? Don’t you?”
“Well, yes. But…but you’re a rock star,” she teased. “I thought you’d be subwoofing your way home every day.”
He chuckled. “Well, I do subwoof my way home some days,” he told her. He glanced over to her, grinning. “But not today.”
“I’m out of your way, aren’t I?” Tabby asked. Her nerves had settled down a bit, and now that she was thinking more clearly, she remembered having seen Jagger Brodie’s address on some mail someone had dropped near her desk one day. Jagger’s zip code was on the northeast side of the city, and she lived on the west side.
“Not at all,” he lied.
“Where do you live then?” she asked.
He grinned again. “In a house.”
Tabby giggled. “I mean, what part of the city do you live in?”
“In a subdivision.”
“Which side of the city is the subdivision you live on?”
For a moment, Tabby almost wished they would slide off the road—gently, of course—so she could see how Jagger would keep them warm until a tow truck arrived. She was so affected by just being tucked snuggly under his leather jacket, she could just imagine how wonderful it would be to be tucked snuggly in the warm protection of his strong arms.
“So maybe this is the roundabout way to my house,” he said. He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe I needed to pick up some hamster food at that pet store on the west side. Maybe your house is on the way to the pet store.”
“A hamster?” Tabby giggled. “You’re not a very good liar.”
“Then we’re even, Miss I-just-have-a-couple-of-things-to-finish-up-at-the-office,” he teased.
“Okay, so neither one of us is a good liar,” Tabby said. “We have something in common.”
“And we both like Diana Krall,” he added, nodding with approval.
“And obviously, we both like the blues,” Tabby pointed out.
“And we work at the same place,” he said in turn.
“And we both know Armando, the cliff-diving restaurant owner,” Tabby giggled.
“True,” he chuckled. “I understand he’s completely crushing out over your friend Jocelyn, by the way.”
“Well, she’s completely crushing over him, that’s for sure!”
“Hmm…Diana Krall fans, bad liars, the blues…and friends that are crushing. We’re practically twins,” he said.
“Oh yeah, practically twins,” Tabby laughed. “Except for the driving in snow part. I can’t believe I let myself inconvenience you like this.”
“I told you I needed hamster food,” he said. “What? Do you want me to just let little Rutherford starve?”
“Rutherford?” Tabby asked. The name was so random that for a moment she almost believed he had a hamster.
“Yeah. That was my hamster when I was in sixth grade. He was awesome,” Jagger said. He exhaled a dramatic sigh. “Of course, he’s dead now. He’s buried in my mom’s flower bed in a checkbook box.”
“So there isn’t a current Rutherford then?” she asked.
“Naw,” he admitted. “I made the pet store thing up.”
“No kidding?” She shook her head, delighted at his teasing.
“No kidding. And now, we’re at Sycamore,” he said.
For the first time in a long time, Tabby glanced out the front window.
“Oh my heck!” she exclaimed upon seeing that the visibility was near zero. She hadn’t noticed how bad the blizzard had become. With Diana Krall’s soothing voice and his lighthearted chitchat, Jagger had managed to distract her thoroughly.
“Oh my heck! How can you even see where you’re going?” she breathed as her fear returned. “I can’t see the road!”
“I can see fine,” he said. “And we’re two blocks from Vine.”
Tabby inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes, her knuckles going white as she gripped each side of her seat.
“What’s your house number?” Jagger asked.
“Seven forty-two Vine,” she managed. “But I don’t know why you’re asking. You’ll never find it.”
“Sure I will,” he assured her.
“How? We can’t see a thing.”
“But this cop can,” he casually explained.
“What?” Tabby exclaimed, opening her eyes in time to see a police SUV vehicle parked in front of them, lights flashing.
Jagger rolled his window down a bit as a police officer tapped on it.
“Officer,” Jagger greeted.
The policeman shined a flashlight into the car.
“You’ll have to get off the road, sir,” the policeman said. “Visibility is zero.”
“Zack!” Tabby exclaimed. Zack Hadlock was her neighbor.
“Tabby?” Zack asked, shining the flashlight at her. “Where’s your car?”
“At the office,” she explained.
“Well, whoever this guy is…you’re stuck with him for the night,” Zack said.
“What?” Tabby exclaimed. “You can’t trap him here, Zack. He only brought me home as a favor.”
Zack shrugged. “Sorry, Tabby. You’ll have to put him up for the night…at least.”
“No way around it, huh?” Jagger asked.
“Sorry, man,” Zack said. He smiled at Jagger, however, and added, “Or maybe you’ll be thanking me in the morning.”
“But, Zack—” Tabby began.
“Sorry, Tabby,” Zack interrupted. “Just take him home, and you two wait this out.”
“Thank you,” Jagger said.
Zack nodded. “Second driveway on the left…if you can see it.”
“Thanks.”
As Jagger rolled up the window, brushing the snow out of his hair with one hand, Tabby thought she might actually burst into tears.
“See what happens when you try to be nice to snow-phobics?” she said. “You’re trapped.”
Jagger shrugged. “I’d rather spend the night at your house than at the office.” He glanced to her, offered a reassuring grin, and added, “Or off the road in a snowbank somewhere. Right?”
“I am so sorry,” Tabby said as Jagger pulled into her driveway. “I can’t believe this. I should’ve just—”
“Hey,” he interrupted. “It is what it is. Don’t worry about it. You have a couch, right?”
Tabby looked to him as she suddenly realized he’d be with her all night—that he was asking if he could sleep on her couch. Hurriedly, she tried to remember if she’d left any underwear lying around in the bathroom that morning. With Chloe still out of town and the fact that she was so preoccupied with the possibility of a storm while she was getting ready for work, she couldn’t remember if she’d just stripped down before her shower and left everything lying on the floor.
“I do have a couch,” she said, finally getting a little handle on her thought process. “But…but my sister is out of town, so you don’t have to sleep on the couch. You can have a bed.” Suddenly, profoundly aware of the gravity of the situation—at least for appearance’s purposes—she added, “A bed of your own, of course.”
He chuckled and put the car in park.
“You can pull into the garage,” she said. “I’ll just run in and open it for you.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, opening his door. Tabby watched as the wind hit him—as he was blasted by heavy blowing snow. Tossing Jagger’s leather jacket into the backseat, she quickly opened her own door. The wind was freezing, and she felt like she was being pelted with icicles! She wished she’d worn something besides heels. She’d never make it to the front door without breaking her neck. Yet in the next instant, she realized she wouldn’t be walking to the front door. Jagger appeared beside her, closed the car door behind her, and then swooped her up in his arms.
“Hang on,” he shouted over the roar of the wind.
Instinctively, Tabby wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he made his way to her front door.
He let her feet drop to the ground, shivering as he asked, “Do you have your keys?”
Frantically, Tabby began to dig in her purse. Jagger was patting his own arms, and it was only then she realized he wasn’t wearing a coat—only his suit jacket.
She found her keys. She took hold of the house key to separate it from the rest of the bundle on her key chain and, for some reason, held them out to him.
“Thanks,” he said, accepting the key and shoving it into the doorknob.
“I’ll open the garage for you so you can pull in,” she said as he opened the door for her and she stepped over the threshold.
“Okay,” he said, his teeth chattering.
Tabby didn’t wait. Kicking off her pumps, she hurried across the front room and to the door off the kitchen leading to the garage.
She didn’t even pause to turn on the garage light—just reached to the wall inside the door and pushed the big white button. The garage door opened. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief as she watched the black Volvo roll into her garage. Once Jagger had turned off the engine, she pushed the button again and watched as the garage door closed behind Jagger’s car. He really was trapped now.
