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Authors: Judith McNaught
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she pulled her sunglasses down onto her nose and turned her head to gaze at the passing scenery on the interstate, only dimly aware when the endless suburbs gave way to long stretches of open countryside. Nick positively radiated bold sexual expertise and confident virility. Even now she was disturbingly aware of the length of his hard, muscled thigh only inches away from hers and the way his powerful shoulders seemed to dwarf her. Everything about the way he looked, and the way he looked
at her
, warned her that he could be very dangerous to her peace of mind.
Dangerous? Agreeing to go away for the weekend with him had been completely out of character for her—as out of character and unexplainable as this deep compelling attraction she felt for him. It was also a rash, reckless thing to do, she admitted to herself. But was it dangerous? What if Nick was a demented killer who intended to murder her, mutilate her body and bury it in the woods? If he did, no one would ever know what had happened to her, because no one knew she was with him—except Tony and his sons, and Nick could simply tell them she'd gone back to
Missouri
. They'd believe him. Literally and figuratively, Nick could get away with murder.
Lauren stole a swift, apprehensive glance at his chiseled profile, and her features relaxed into a faint smile. Her instincts about people had never let her down before, and she knew instinctively that she was not in any physical danger.
The next three hours passed in a delightful blur. The car ate up the miles, sending a balmy breeze to touch their faces and ruffle their hair, and they talked companionably about everything and nothing.
Nick, Lauren noticed, was extremely evasive when it came to actually talking about himself, butpositively insatiable when it came to probing into her background. All she learned about him was that his father had died when he was four, and that his grandparents, who had raised him, had both died a few years ago.
In the town of Grayling , which Nick said was about an hour and a half's drive from their destination of Harbor Springs, he stopped at a little grocery store. When he came out, Lauren saw that he was carrying two cans of Coke and a package of cigarettes. A few miles down the road, he pulled over at a roadside picnic table, and they both got out.
"Isn't it a gorgeous day?" Lauren tipped her head back to gaze in delight at the lacy white clouds drifting across the brilliant blue sky. She glanced at Nick and found him observing her with an indulgent expression.
Ignoring his blasé attitude she said, "At home the sky never seems to be this blue, and it's much hotter. I suppose because
Missouri
is so far south of here."
Nick opened both cans of Coke and handed one to her. He leaned his hip casually on the picnic table behind him, and Lauren tried to pick up their conversation where it had been interrupted a few minutes ago. "You said your father died when you were four, and your grandparents raised you—what happened to your mother?"
"Nothing happened to her," he replied. Putting a cigarette between his lips, he struck a match, cupping his hands around the flame to protect it from the breeze.
Lauren stared at the vital thickness of his dark brown hair as he bent his head to the match, then she quickly lifted her blue eyes to his. "Nick, why are you so uncommunicative about yourself?"
He squinted his eyes against the aromatic smoke drifting up from the cigarette. "Uncommunicative? I've been talking my head off for a hundred miles."
"But not about anything really personal. What happened to your mother?"
He laughed. "Has anyone ever told you that you have incredibly beautiful eyes?"
"Yes, and you're prevaricating!"
"And that you're extremely well-spoken, too?" he continued, ignoring her remark.
" Which isn't surprising because my father is an English teacher, as you've already discovered. " Lauren sighed, exasperated by his deliberate evasiveness.
Nick glanced up at the
at her
, warned her that he could be very dangerous to her peace of mind.
Dangerous? Agreeing to go away for the weekend with him had been completely out of character for her—as out of character and unexplainable as this deep compelling attraction she felt for him. It was also a rash, reckless thing to do, she admitted to herself. But was it dangerous? What if Nick was a demented killer who intended to murder her, mutilate her body and bury it in the woods? If he did, no one would ever know what had happened to her, because no one knew she was with him—except Tony and his sons, and Nick could simply tell them she'd gone back to
Missouri
. They'd believe him. Literally and figuratively, Nick could get away with murder.
Lauren stole a swift, apprehensive glance at his chiseled profile, and her features relaxed into a faint smile. Her instincts about people had never let her down before, and she knew instinctively that she was not in any physical danger.
The next three hours passed in a delightful blur. The car ate up the miles, sending a balmy breeze to touch their faces and ruffle their hair, and they talked companionably about everything and nothing.
Nick, Lauren noticed, was extremely evasive when it came to actually talking about himself, butpositively insatiable when it came to probing into her background. All she learned about him was that his father had died when he was four, and that his grandparents, who had raised him, had both died a few years ago.
In the town of Grayling , which Nick said was about an hour and a half's drive from their destination of Harbor Springs, he stopped at a little grocery store. When he came out, Lauren saw that he was carrying two cans of Coke and a package of cigarettes. A few miles down the road, he pulled over at a roadside picnic table, and they both got out.
"Isn't it a gorgeous day?" Lauren tipped her head back to gaze in delight at the lacy white clouds drifting across the brilliant blue sky. She glanced at Nick and found him observing her with an indulgent expression.
Ignoring his blasé attitude she said, "At home the sky never seems to be this blue, and it's much hotter. I suppose because
Missouri
is so far south of here."
Nick opened both cans of Coke and handed one to her. He leaned his hip casually on the picnic table behind him, and Lauren tried to pick up their conversation where it had been interrupted a few minutes ago. "You said your father died when you were four, and your grandparents raised you—what happened to your mother?"
"Nothing happened to her," he replied. Putting a cigarette between his lips, he struck a match, cupping his hands around the flame to protect it from the breeze.
Lauren stared at the vital thickness of his dark brown hair as he bent his head to the match, then she quickly lifted her blue eyes to his. "Nick, why are you so uncommunicative about yourself?"
He squinted his eyes against the aromatic smoke drifting up from the cigarette. "Uncommunicative? I've been talking my head off for a hundred miles."
"But not about anything really personal. What happened to your mother?"
He laughed. "Has anyone ever told you that you have incredibly beautiful eyes?"
"Yes, and you're prevaricating!"
"And that you're extremely well-spoken, too?" he continued, ignoring her remark.
" Which isn't surprising because my father is an English teacher, as you've already discovered. " Lauren sighed, exasperated by his deliberate evasiveness.
Nick glanced up at the
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