Hell on Wheels: A Loveswept Classic Romance (18 page)

“Antsss,” she managed to say, her teeth chattering. She pointed to the shore. “I was s-s-standing in a bed of them.”

He immediately came to her, sloshing through the water heedless of getting his own feet wet. He hunkered down so he could see her face, his expression filled with concern. “Did they sting you?”

She nodded. “I don’t think it’s too bad. The c-cold water is worse. I didn’t get your camera wet.” She held up the camera triumphantly.

“I wasn’t worried about that.” He helped her stand on the slippery creek bottom, his expression grim.

Victoria thought his solemn observation an extremely strange one for a man who just hours earlier had been talking so readily about death. It wasn’t as if she’d even come close to a serious injury.

He wrapped a protective arm around her waist and helped her back up the creek bank. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him so solicitous. Usually when he touched her, there was something sexual going on.

“We’ve got to get you out of these wet clothes,” he said.

She
was
shivering. But his warm hand against her rib cage made her forget about the cold and think instead of fire and dazzling heat. And he wasn’t even trying.

He released her to open the back doors of the van, and they dug into their bags for clean, dry clothes. But Victoria found herself distracted by the sight of Roan peeling off his wet jeans. He was unaware of her scrutiny, and she stared at him for several seconds, watching the way those hard muscles rippled beneath his tanned skin.

Suddenly she wasn’t a bit cold anymore.

“Roan?”

He looked up. “What?”

She’d forgotten what she wanted to say. Her mouth went dry. She wondered if steam was rising from her skin.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to say anything. Roan, as usual, read her perfectly and flashed a lascivious grin. “How quickly do you think we can find a motel?”

“Not quickly enough,” she said, taking his damp jeans from him and hanging them over the open van door.

“Oh, Victoria,” he said, stretching her name out in that sexy way she loved. He said it that way only when he was feeling romantic. His blue eyes danced with unspoken possibilities. “Right here? I’d think you’d be cold.”

“Not a chance,” she said, her voice husky.

“Ah.” He reached for her, wrapping one hand around her wrist and tugging her to him. “Does that mean you’ll warm me up?”

“We’ll warm each other up. Isn’t that the way it usually works?”

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to test your theory.” He sat her down on the back bumper of the van and pulled off her soggy tennis shoes and socks, caressing her feet with his warm hands. He then stood her up and started to work on her jeans, but she stopped him.

“I can do this faster on my own,” she said, shucking out of the clinging denim. “And I’m not in a mood to waste any time.”

“Okay by me.” He watched in obvious appreciation as she stripped the rest of the way down, throwing her clothes in all directions. “You really are in a hurry.”

“You’re not?” she inquired, boldly touching the thrust of his erection through his briefs.

He shut his eyes, savoring her touch for a moment. “Mmm, I didn’t say that, sweet wench.”

“Then get naked.”

“Ma’am, yes,
ma’am
!” He gave her a smart salute before eagerly divesting himself of his T-shirt and briefs. When he was standing gloriously naked before her, his desire for her more than evident, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the picnic blanket. The sun had sunk behind a hill, but the air was still warm with the memory of afternoon.

Roan stretched out beside her, then covered her body with his. They fit together like two halves of a magnificent whole, and Victoria was struck by a sense of fullness, of completion, that she’d never before encountered.

Everything about him felt right, from his urgent kisses, the passionate, unintelligible words he murmured, his hands, so large and so gentle, overwhelming her small breasts. The moment he took full possession of her was like no other, and she was sure the memory of it would be burned into her brain for eternity.

It wasn’t that she was out of control with lust. In fact, this was the first time she could remember approaching their lovemaking with even the semblance of sanity. What struck her, what was so sharp and poignant, was the sense of rightness. She couldn’t remember what it was like not to have him inside her, thrusting against her in a perfect rhythm. It was almost as if they were dancing, anticipating each other’s moves, reactions. Even their breathing was coordinated.

He was a part of her soul now, and she wasn’t afraid for them, at least not for the moment.

They peaked at the same time, as she’d known they would. It was almost as if their minds and hearts were linked instead of just their bodies. Afterward, breathing heavily, he shifted his weight and drew her atop him, then held her close like a drowning man clinging to driftwood.

She kissed his cheek and her heart suddenly constricted. She’d grown so comfortable with him, so used to his virile presence—as if they’d known each other forever. She’d shared more with him than she had with any other man. Her life was going to feel so empty when he moved on. But she had to prepare for that eventuality. He would do what he had to do, and she would let him because she loved him.

He didn’t know it, but she’d slipped the roll of film out of his camera and stuck it into her purse. If he could have memories on film, so could she, although they would pale compared to the genuine item.

Making the transition from afterglow to practical matters was difficult. Victoria had a hard time shaking off the sensual mood. But it was getting late and the temperature was dropping. She brushed Roan’s cheek with her fingertips, not daring to speak for fear of what might come out of her mouth.

He spoke first. “You’re okay, Vic. I mean, incredible.”

She struggled for a snappy rejoinder that would ease them back into the teasing banter they’d shared earlier, but none came to mind. “I try,” she managed to get out.

The next sizable town likely to have a motel was thirty minutes away. Less than a third of the way there, Victoria’s head grew heavy and her eyelids drooped. Darned antihistamines, she thought. She’d taken a couple so the ant bites wouldn’t sting as much, forgetting how sleepy they made her.

“Hey, you okay?” Roan asked.

She stifled a yawn. “Mmm, sure.” Five more minutes and she pulled over. Much as it pained her, she was going to have to let Roan drive. She reluctantly switched seats with him.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” he groused as he pushed back the seat and adjusted the mirrors. “I’m a perfectly good driver. The only wreck I’ve ever had was Amos’s truck, when I was sixteen.”

“Then your guardian angel must be working overtime,” she said, suddenly not quite so drowsy. “I saw what you did to that rental car.”

“That’s because I had to take it off-road. I requested a four-wheel drive from Pennywise, but they didn’t give me one.”

“Well, at any rate, I promised Amos I wouldn’t let you drive.”

“Ah-hah, I
knew
he’d said something. Talk about holding a grudge!” With that, Roan put the van in gear, put on his blinker, waited for the traffic to clear, and eased out onto the highway.

Victoria kept her eye on the speedometer. Roan
drove at a steady fifty-four miles per hour. In fact, he drove like a little old lady on her way to church.

Amos would never believe this. She wasn’t sure she believed it herself. Was it possible she’d actually had an effect on Roan’s recklessness? And she noticed he hadn’t smoked, at least not around her, for the past couple of days.

Maybe his attitude was changing, she thought, hope blooming in her heart. Of course, he would deny it. But maybe on some deep, subconscious level he was learning to savor life instead of swallowing it whole. And although she didn’t expect him to make any radical lifestyle changes because of her, maybe something she’d said or done would make a small difference somewhere, sometime. Perhaps he would remember her and fasten his seat belt, or take some small extra precaution that would save his life.

That thought was comforting. It would be nice to think that something had come out of this trip besides a broken heart.

“Nothing, nothing, nothing!” Victoria sat on the motel room bed with her long legs curled under her, shuffling through her various maps and charts. Her hair was still damp from her shower, hanging loose and wild the way Roan loved it. She had on one of those prim cotton blouses she was so fond of—pink this time—but she hadn’t managed to wiggle into her jeans yet. Roan had to bite his lip to keep from tumbling her across the bed and kissing her until she forgot all about her weather maps and charts.

His need to hold her and keep her close had gotten more insistent by the day, instead of weakening the way it had with other women. He didn’t understand it. He’d always been a loner, never needed anyone’s company but his own.

Victoria made him think of long evenings by the fire and home-cooked meals. She made him think of babies.

And that terrified him.

For that reason, he deliberately denied the urge he felt to rumple her crisp cotton blouse. He
could
resist her, he told himself. He would miss her when she was gone from his life, but he’d get over it. He had to believe that.

“I’ve never seen such crummy-looking weather,” Victoria said, oblivious of Roan’s dark thoughts. She looked up at him with those big hazel eyes and his chest automatically tightened. “I’m afraid that one ropy little tornado may be all we see this trip.”

“One is better than none. Cheer up, Vee, we still have three days left.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “Vee?”

“Well, you didn’t like Vicky or Vic,” he reasoned.

She laughed. “Go back to Vic. I was getting used to it. In fact, I was starting to like it.”

Roan inhaled sharply. She was flirting with him, giving him that come-hither look, and he was determined he wasn’t going to succumb. It was like the cigarettes. He enjoyed them, but he could put them down anytime he wanted. In fact, he realized with a start, he’d gone for several days now without smoking. He’d never gotten around to buying another pack after he’d emptied the last one.

“Are you ready for breakfast?” he asked mildly.

She lowered her gaze and his heart constricted. He’d disappointed her. “Yes, just let me finish getting dressed and do something with my hair.”

Victoria hadn’t been kidding when she’d bemoaned the state of the weather. The day was as warm and calm and blue-skied as any Roan had seen. Of course, that
could always change. But Victoria didn’t believe it would, and she wasn’t in any particular hurry to get anywhere. Their best bet, she claimed, was to start heading east again and prepare for the new front that would move through Tornado Alley in a couple of days.

They took the van in for an oil change, ate another picnic lunch, then plotted a route on the map that would lead them through some pretty scenery. It would have been a thoroughly pleasant way to spend an afternoon, Roan thought, if leisure had been their goal. But Victoria was clearly impatient with the annoyingly blue sky and gentle breeze, and her edginess was contagious.

He caught himself studying her, imagining in lush detail exactly what he’d do when they stopped for the night, from unbraiding her hair to pulling off her tennis shoes and massaging her feet—and everything in between.

“You’re bored,” Victoria declared after Roan had unfastened his seat belt, stretched, and tried to find a more comfortable position for the third time in as many minutes.

“I’m not bored,” he insisted. He would never be bored around Victoria. Frustrated, maybe. He held back a grin. “Just getting stiff from so many hours in the car. I’m not used to sitting still.”

“All right. Since we’re in no hurry, let’s stop and stretch our legs. Aren’t we near some state park?”

Roan consulted the map. “We’ll catch Highway 73 in about six miles. If we turn south—”

“Oh, Roan, look at that!”

Roan looked up. Victoria had slowed the van to a
crawl, and he immediately saw what had captured her attention. An old wood-frame church sat in a clearing surrounded by tall pine trees. A single shaft of afternoon sunlight illuminated the glistening white walls and sparkled off the brass bell in the bell tower. Rows of pink and purple tulips lined the stone walkway that led up to the front door.

If it hadn’t been for the two cars parked in the lot near the church, Roan would have thought he was witnessing a scene from another time. Automatically he reached behind his seat for his camera bag.

Victoria pulled over. “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” she said in an awed voice. “I say we stretch our legs here. Better scenery than any old state park.”

Roan was already out of the van. This quiet church, sheltered in its little grove of trees, evoked a mood he couldn’t begin to describe. He had to get it on film.

Worried that the light would change, he didn’t bother with a tripod—he just started shooting.

Victoria leaned against the van and watched him quietly as he worked, framing the church first one way and then another, trying different lenses, different light filters. “Will you send me a copy?” she asked.