Baby, Drive South (26 page)

“So…dinner in two hours?” he asked.

She looked up and started to protest. “I don’t—”

“Please? Besides, don’t you want to see more of the city?”

She did. And one of the women had lent her a beautiful dress to wear tonight. She wavered. But that close call earlier…

He held up his hand. “I’ll behave—scout’s honor.”

She laughed and relented. “Okay. I’ll meet you in two hours.” She unlocked the door and walked into the spacious, luxurious room that was exhilaratingly cool from air-conditioning—a welcome respite for her allergies. A king-sized bed beckoned with a satiny white tufted coverlet. She walked over, slipped off her shoes, spread her arms and fell backward on the bed, enjoying the bounce before sighing and sinking into the plush linens. The ceiling was ornate with intricate patterns and gilded curlicues and a sparkling chandelier.

It was a far cry from her simple room in the boardinghouse in Sweetness.

In fact, the lavish hotel room reminded her of the bedroom she’d shared with Darren at his home. He had expensive taste, owned only the best furnishings. She had felt like a princess.

Her mind wandered to the phone message Darren had left while they were driving down. Calling him back seemed like a lose-lose proposition. If he tried to pretend he’d done nothing wrong, she’d be angry and hurt all over again. And if he…

No, her mind couldn’t go there.

But she had to deal with it sooner or later—even if she only deleted the message. She sat up and reluctantly reached for her purse. She’d turned off her phone, but now removed it and pushed the “on” button, her heart clicking with dread.

A knock on the door startled her. She looked toward the entrance, then realized the sound had come from another door—a flat door that blended into the wall because it was covered with the same striped wall-paper. The door that connected her room to the one next door.

Porter’s room.

The knock sounded again. She pushed to her feet and walked to the door, her tongue firmly in her cheek as she unlocked it. She swung it open to find Porter standing there, shirt hanging open to reveal his muscled chest and stomach, leaning on his crutches. Wounded
and
gorgeous, God help her.

“You got us connecting rooms,” she said, deadpan.

“Coincidence,” he said with a smile.

“I thought you said you’d behave yourself.”

“That’s right.”

She crossed her arms. “Then why are you knocking on my door?”

He held up a cell phone that she hadn’t noticed before. “It’s Rachel. She’s been trying to reach you on your cell, but—”

“It was turned off,” Nikki finished. “Is something wrong?”

“Ask her yourself,” he said, extending the phone.

She took the phone, wondering with chagrin if Rachel had overheard that little exchange. “Hello?”

“Connecting rooms, huh?”

Nikki closed her eyes briefly. “Rachel, is there a problem?”

“Yes. You really should turn on your phone.”

From the bed where she’d left it, her phone started chiming with downloaded messages.

“Okay,” Nikki said, tamping down her impatience. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Nigel. He won’t sleep.”

Nikki exhaled in relief that it wasn’t something more serious, although she realized Rachel was probably worried about her pet. “Is he sick again?”

“I don’t know. He won’t eat, either. Unless he’s with Cupid.”

“Cupid?”

“The deer. We named her. You know—Comet,
Cupid,
Donner and Blitzen.”

Nikki winced and glanced up at Porter. “You named the doe Cupid?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Well, we couldn’t just keep calling her ‘deer.’ The point is, Nigel is obsessed with Cupid. He wants to be with her all the time. Otherwise he whines and refuses to eat or sleep.”

Nikki bit back a smile. “He’ll eat when he gets hungry enough, and he’ll sleep when he gets tired enough. How is, um,
Cupid
faring?”

“Better after we brought her back inside.”

“You brought her inside?”

Porter dragged his hand down his face.

“She likes it. The girls are taking turns feeding her and checking the cast. She’s doing great, walking around and getting stronger.”

“That’s good,” Nikki agreed.

“So,” Rachel said, lowering her voice suggestively, “are you having fun?”

Nikki looked at Porter, who was watching…and listening. “Er…it’s been a productive trip.”

“Oh, good grief, Nikki, let your hair down a little. That sexy man wants you, and if you’ve already decided not to stay in Sweetness, what harm can it do to have a fantastic one-night stand?”

Nikki swept her gaze over his impressive body, and her mouth literally watered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Look inside the purse I loaned you,” Rachel said.

Something told her not to ask for details. “Okay. Thank you and goodbye.” She quickly disconnected the call, then handed the phone back to Porter.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“The women are domesticating your wild animal.”

He sighed. “Women have a knack for domesticating wild things.”

Nikki’s heart skipped a beat. She had the oddest feeling he was alluding to something else.

He craned his neck to look behind her. “How’s your room?”

“Great—especially the air-conditioning.”

“I prefer an open window myself.”

It hit her then—how different and how wholly incompatible they were. Giving in to her physical urges would only leave her feeling more disconnected than before. From the bed, her phone chimed again. “I should get that,” Nikki said.

“Okay. See you in two hours,” he said, and before she could voice a new protest, he closed the door on his side.

She closed her door, then went to her phone. Darren had called again twice, and the last time he’d left another message. She listened with her heart pounding against her ribs.

“Nikki, it’s me…again. I’m worried about you. I understand why you’re angry with me, but I need to know you’re okay. Call me. Please. I need to talk to you.”

She listened to the message again, but could glean nothing in his intonation or nonverbal clues to determine his motivation for wanting to speak with her.

But the fact that he’d used the word “I” four times was telling.

She set the phone on the dresser and went into the lush bathroom. The bathtub looked inviting, but the large glass-walled shower with two showerheads looked like nirvana. She turned on the hot water to let the steam rise, then turned to the vanity mirror.

Nikki could scarcely believe it was her reflection looking back.

The women had been generous with their time and their supplies. In fact, they’d virtually swarmed on her when Rachel had announced that Nikki had agreed to a makeover. She hadn’t been allowed to go near a mirror while they applied chemicals to lighten her hair, then cut and styled it. Ditto while they arched her eyebrows and applied makeup. She’d received her first ever manicure and pedicure, and exfoliating scrubs to use in the shower. Shoes and dresses in Nikki’s size were scavenged from various closets.

The results, Nikki marveled, studying the sweep of honey-colored hair across her cheekbones, were nothing short of amazing. But more than that, she’d had fun. It was perhaps the first time in her life that she’d felt as if she belonged. The women had buzzed around her, talking about the workers they’d met, comparing notes. Underneath the general feeling of indignation that these Southern men had a long way to go to impress them was a bubbling sense of optimism that the group had potential.

All of the women had stories of heartache and betrayal. At first Nikki had felt on edge, afraid someone would pry for details about her split with Darren, but it was as if they’d formed an insulating bubble around her. No one mentioned her scandalous breakup, but she’d sensed they were letting her know through the retelling of their own bittersweet romances that she was part of a sisterhood of the brokenhearted.

And that life went on.

As she peeled off the borrowed clothes, Nikki felt a pang of appreciation for the women. And while she admired their tenacity when it came to finding love, deep down, she knew she was different. Since childhood she’d been unusually sensitive—things had impacted her on a deeper emotional level than other people. Over the years she’d developed a good exoskeleton to conceal her soft middle so others assumed she was unfeeling when, in truth, it was the opposite. Opening her heart to Darren Rocha had been a huge risk for her. Having it cut out and handed back to her had been so brutal, there were times when she thought she would die from the pain.

She didn’t want to experience that kind of anguish again, ever. Whatever those other women had that made them want to gamble it all again for the chance of love, she was missing. Courage?

Maybe.

Suddenly her chest tightened and her eyes filled with unbidden tears. Grief was sneaky like that—it slipped up on her at quiet moments and reminded her that if she thought she was over Darren’s duplicity, she had, as her grammy would say, “Another think coming.”

Still crying, she slipped under the showerheads and gave in to the tears. She felt racked with confusion, unsure of her place in the world. It gave her a tiny bit of insight into how the people of Sweetness might have felt when the tornado had ravaged their homes and scattered their belongings, sending them in search of a new place to put down roots. She wished Sweetness could be that new place for her.

Little by little, the hot water relaxed her muscles and the hotel’s fragrant soap washed away her troubles for the time being. When she left the shower, she was feeling revived. She carefully applied the makeup and styled her hair like the women had shown her, and was pleased with the results. The teal-colored sundress complemented her skin and eyes, and silver-colored strappy heels gave her a lift. She glanced at her reflection in a mirror on the bathroom door and gave a little twirl.

She was, she admitted, looking forward to having dinner with Porter. He was, by all measures, charming and attentive. The sexual tension that vibrated between them kept things playful and interesting. Rachel’s words came back to her and she acknowledged it wouldn’t take much to ignite their smoldering passion. But she knew enough about herself to know that a one-night stand wasn’t her style. As long as she maintained her distance, she could survive the night with her dignity intact. The man was on crutches, after all.

She could outrun him if she had to.

When it was time to meet him, she scooped up the clutch purse Rachel had lent her, then remembered she was supposed to look inside. At first glance, it was empty, but when Nikki unzipped the little side pocket, she found not one, but
four
condoms. A flush climbed her neck at the implication. She pushed them back in place, zipped up the pocket and added her wallet, a lipstick and a comb. Then she gave her outfit one last glance in the mirror, and to keep from wrinkling her dress, paced the room waiting for Porter to knock.

Fifteen minutes later, she was still pacing. Thinking maybe he’d fallen asleep, she dialed his cell phone number, but he didn’t answer. Worse, she could hear it ringing through the doors that connected their rooms. Worry bloomed in her mind. Had he fallen?

Nikki walked to the door on her side, opened it, and knocked on the door leading to his room. “Porter?”

She pressed her ear to the door and heard his voice, but his words were unintelligible. She knocked again. “Porter? Are you okay?”

His voice sounded again, still unintelligible, but higher—as if he was in distress. Her pulse jumped. She tried the knob, relieved to discover he’d left it unlocked. She stepped into his room, registering that the decor was similar, but in gray and pewter. He wasn’t in the big bed that dominated the room, although the coverlet was rumpled.

The bathroom door was closed, but the light shining beneath the door told her it was occupied.

“Porter?”

“Nikki!” he shouted from the other side of the door. “Help!”

She was there in two strides, her head filled with images of him lying in a bloody pool on the floor. She flung open the door…and came up short.

28

I
nstead of lying in a bloody pool, Porter was immersed in a dissolving bubble bath with his casted leg propped on the side of the tub. He grinned. “Hey, little lady doc.”

At the sight of his big nude body, blood rushed to Nikki’s erogenous zones. His dark, damp hair hung in his eyes. His shoulders spanned the width of the tub. The hair on his chest merged into a dark rivulet that traveled down his abs and disappeared under the water. One of the few remaining mounds of bubbles covered his privates.

“Wow, you look great,” he said, as if nothing was amiss.

Nikki crossed her arms and frowned. “I thought you were in trouble.”

“I am. I managed to get in, but now that I’m good and clean, I can’t get out.” He wriggled his wrinkled fingers. “I’m shriveling.” Then he held out his hand. “Help me up?”

She hesitated.

He scoffed. “Come on, doc, I know you’re stronger than you look. And you’ve seen pretty much all of me anyway.”

Not everything,
she almost said.

“You can close your eyes,” he said wryly, as if he’d read her mind.

He was mocking her. Nikki straightened and sighed. “Okay.”

His hand disappeared in the water between his legs. Just when she was starting to wonder what he was doing, a sucking noise sounded, then the water level began to drop—quickly.

In a few seconds, she’d get an eyeful of everything.

“I’ll get you a towel,” she said, then pivoted to pull a thick bath towel off a rack. While she had her back turned, she gave herself a pep talk and tried to tamp down her racing pulse. She was a physician. She could view his naked body with a clinical detachment. She could. Nikki took a deep breath and turned back around.

Just as all of the water drained out of the tub.

She got a glimpse of impressive equipment before she tossed the towel over him. He unfolded it and arranged it over his waist, then extended his hand. Nikki set down her purse, then clasped his hand and leaned over to allow him to use her body as leverage to push up. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced her feet.