Page 3 of Whiteout

“We’re all hooked on them, aren’t we?” He struggled to bring his smile up to his eyes. “Sometimes I leave mine where I can’t reach it so I can feel like a human being again.” What the hell was he saying? There was no way to force her hand without being completely obvious.

“Actually, I forgot my charger where I was staying,” she said. “Do you have one?”

“No,” he lied. “Sorry about that. I left mine at my house. Rookie mistake.” He hated himself. Stop flirting with Paul’s girlfriend. Why was he making this situation worse?

Because Grant wasn’t in the mood to hear her talk nice with her perfect boyfriend, that’s why. Not with himself a foot away. And if the real Kaar driver contacted her before Grant was ready to spring the surprise, Melisa would think she was actually being kidnapped. Not exactly a romantic Christmas gift.

He kept the smile as he slipped a hand past her hips to release the rear door handle. Melisa stood clear and Grant swung the door wide.

~

Melinda paused at the door Gerald held for her and scanned him from toe to top. Worn jeans overlapped work boots and a brown-and-green plaid flannel peeked above the collar of his brown suede jacket. She surveyed his face and found it to be an honest one. Attractive—ruggedly so. Laugh lines at the eyes, smile lines around the mouth, a little salt in the stubble. Somewhere around forty, she would guess.

His hazel eyes fixed her brown ones with an expression she couldn’t read. Professional distance? Attraction? Guilt? The skin at the nape of her neck prickled. Was something off? Maybe. There was a tension about him. Then again, airport traffic was a nightmare.

Melinda heard her mother’s voice telling her to walk away, sit down, take a break, feel it out. “If something’s not right, trust the feeling.” Easier preached than done, Kitty Kat. Katrina Sen, broken marriage and family therapist. What good was advice from a defeated soul? None, which was why Melinda had stopped taking it when she was thirteen. Also why she took Kaars, lived alone, worked alone, and didn’t expect to get married. Was she a little too vehement about thumbing her nose at the rules? Maybe. Had things turned out all right so far? Yes. She thought of her faltering career and solitary existence. Mostly.

Confidence emanated from Gerald like a pied piper’s tune. He wasn’t hurried and he wasn’t worried. He knew she’d get in the car. There was no socially acceptable reason she shouldn’t.

Why did he deserve confidence while she didn’t? His above-average height and tree-trunk legs? The shoulders like a bull in the stocks as it waited to break free? A bull with sexy eye crinkles and tousled brown hair, she amended. He stood patiently as her mind dallied with his physique.

Stop staring and get in the car.Melinda gave up her analysis and settled into the rear seat. Gerald waited as she buckled her seatbelt, then handed in her bag and closed the door with a controlled click.

Electric heat warmed her legs and back and Melinda moaned in spite of herself. Maybe Gerald could drive her to her next conference. She shifted her seatbelt to remove her jacket. If I survive this ride, Gerald’s getting a good review. She chuckled quietly. Who am I kidding. If I survive this ride I’m ordering a Kaar every day of the week and hoping to get Mr.Mountain Man again.

“Do you know where the Park & Ride off Ward is?” Melinda asked as Gerald dropped into his seat. His scent flooded the car and she inhaled automatically. Was it cologne? Or just cleanliness plus the smell of the cold? “I know it’s in the app,” she continued, as if all her senses weren’t on fire, “but there’s construction there so I wanted to check.”

“Been there twice today already,” Gerald replied with a quick one-sided smile in the rearview mirror, and she relaxed, marginally. Hopefully he was too yummy to be a serial killer.

She snorted silently. What the hell did that even mean? She immediately answered herself. It means he’s hot, Melinda. Subtly, darkly, confusingly hot. Like a boozy bread pudding that’s not too sweet and makes you slow down to eat it, but then you eat the whole thing. And you’re too satisfied afterward to hate yourself.

Great. Now she was in food fantasy and man fantasy mode. Melinda’s fingers snaked to her goddess pendant. You there? she asked Chandi, hater of evil-doers, slayer of demons. Her idol hadn’t glowed red or shot lasers at Gerald on sight, so hopefully the drive would be uneventful.

A Kaar wasn’t worth the expense, given that the train would have taken her directly to her car. But after the emotional turmoil of the weekend, plus the packed overwhelm of the flight, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts before she had to be in charge of a moving vehicle. And her life. Melinda saw the flash of what must have been Gerald’s phone as he checked directions. Then he buckled his seatbelt, put the car in drive, and pulled into the steady flow of Arrivals traffic.

~

Got her.

Grant sent the text, secured his cell phone in the dashboard holster, and followed the stream of cars out of the covered pick-up zone.

The first flakes of the night’s storm hit the windshield and Grant turned the wipers on low and the defrost on medium. He checked the rearview mirror. Whatever whizzed past them captivated Melisa’s attention. Damn. No, not damn, damn was wrong. Melisa was one hundred percent not available. Which meant that being in the car with her was all that he was going to get.

Except he sensed her body in the seat behind him. He heard the fabric of her jeans over the hum of the engine as she crossed her legs. Heard her sigh and felt his body tighten. She’s taller than I expected. His mind idled. Almost to my nose. How tall is my nose if I’m six foot three? Did she have boots with heels? Grant couldn’t remember. He cursed under his breath. It was hard to undress her with his mind if he couldn’t remember what she wore.

“Warm enough?” Grant asked. Pathetic. What’s next? Grant’s mind taunted. Maybe she’s got deep thoughts on weather patterns?

“Yes, thanks,” Melisa replied. “This heated seat is amazing. That plane was made of cardboard and duct tape.” He laughed. Her voice was warm. Contented.

Okay, buddy. Get it together.Tonight, he was a Kaar driver. And the woman he lusted after was in love with his friend.

“Work trip?”

“Yes,” Melisa said. “I’m a writer. A blogger, if you must know.” She laughed lightly at herself, and it was all he could do to stay on the road. Who laughed and it sounded like sex?

Grant stared at the taillights of the car in front of them, puzzled. Paul had made it sound like Melisa was a massage therapist, not a writer. But he figured that these days everyone needed a few jobs to make ends meet.

“Why the laugh?” Grant struggled to compose himself. “Blogging counts as writing.” He needed the honeyed voice to continue. Desperately, no matter how wrong it was. Maybe a laugh or two—if she spaced them out so he wouldn’t crash the car.

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