Night Driving (11 page)

Stop it. Snap out of it.

Sounded good, but she so didn’t want to. Reluctantly gathering what little sense she had left, Tara twisted away from him. “Boone, wake up.”

“I’m wide-awake, sweetheart,” he said, moving in to feather his tongue along the outside of her ear. “You taste delicious.”

Sweetheart.

He called her sweetheart. Now she knew he had to still be asleep. Sleepy Boone might be all lovey-dovey, but Awake Boone would never call her
sweetheart.
He thought she was annoyingly cheerful. She got on his last nerve. Hadn’t he told her that on more than one occasion? And yet, and yet...hadn’t
something
been changing between them these last few days?

Her stomach fluttered and her fingers tangled up in his soft, shaggy hair. So easy. It would be so easy to just give in and let nature take its course. She’d been doing it all her adult life. Which was the problem. She always let life’s currents carry her without much thought for the future, and so far that hadn’t been such a bad thing. But she was older now and, well, she was ready for something more permanent.

Huh? When had that happened?

Probably the day she’d learned about her mother’s illness. Even though her mom had an excellent chance for recovery, something like this made a girl reevaluate her life. Made her realize what really mattered.

Family.

A husband. Kids.

Struck by the revelation, she unthreaded her fingers from his hair. She hadn’t even realized she was finally ready for a long-term relationship. Too bad her body ached for this short-term guy.

“Down, boy,” she said, her light-hearted tone belying the crazy gallop of her thoughts. Determined to stop herself from making a big mistake, she planted both palms against his chest and immediately got snared in his dark-eyed gaze.

He searched her face and she could see he really was wide-awake. A long minute ticked between them with nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing to break the silence.

“Please...” she croaked, the word a helpless plea for him to override her objections and just kiss her again anyway.

Slowly, Boone nodded, dropped his arms and settled back into the seat.

“You were having a nightmare,” she ventured.

“Yeah. I used to have them all the time in the hospital. Sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not. I’m glad.”

“That I’m a monumental wreck?”

“That you’re human.”

He cracked a wry smile. “You had doubts?”

“C’mon. You’re intimidating. Decorated war hero.”

He shook his head. “It’s not like you think.”

“That’s what I want to understand.”

“War really is hell.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Somebody has to.”

“You feel it’s your place to clean up the world’s ills?”

“Once upon a time I thought that,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “But I’m older and wiser now.”

She leaned over the console between them, having no real plan. She should have turned on her side in the seat, back to him and tried to sleep, but she did not. Instead, she hovered over him, almost daring him to do something about it.

Why?

The question got lost in the soft growl that escaped him as he sat up to claim her lips once more. The pressure of his diligent mouth absconded with her will, left her elated and giddy. His generous tongue eclipsed any lingering protests. Treacherously, she relished him, betraying what she knew was right.

Oh, Tara, you’re so easy.

He tugged her over the console and arranged her on top of him. She straddled his waist, knees digging into the seat on either side of him. He ran his palm up the back of her neck, held her head still while he fully explored her mouth with masterful strokes.

She made a soft mewling sound and sank into him, letting go of all resistance.

His other hand tunneled between them, reaching up under the hem of her T-shirt. His knuckles skimmed her bare skin. His fingers tickled their way up. She’d slipped out of her bra before going to sleep, so there was nothing between him and her.

She shivered against him. This was exciting. She hadn’t made out in a car since she was a teenager.

“Hmm.” The vibration of his sound hummed against her lips.

He pushed up her shirt and slowly peeled it over her head, exposing her to the air. Then he commenced blazing a moist, deliberate trail from her lips to her throat and beyond. He cupped her breasts, weighing them in his palms. He teased one nipple with his mouth, the other with his fingers.

She squirmed, her body alive with sensation. Eager to trace the muscles, she splayed her hands under his shirt and pulled another groan from his lips when her fingers made contact with his flat belly.

Their mouths met again in a fierce clash, hungry, desperate. The same frantic way they’d kissed that first time in the Nebraska cornfield. Had it only been last night? It seemed a lifetime ago.

Through the material of his pants, she could feel him growing rock solid between her legs. Everywhere he touched her turned to liquid fire—her lips, her skin, until she was completely unbalanced. She felt as if she were falling—through time, through space, through sensation after sensation.

He sucked her nipple, his hands wrapped securely around her waist, holding her in place, keeping her steady. Balanced. He brought equilibrium into her life.

She threw back her head, arched her spine, ground herself against him until he groaned aloud.

They were lost. Carried away on lust and the sexual tension that had been mounting between them for months. Tara was ready and beside herself with desire for him.

Boone’s impatient fingers plucked at the snap of her white denim shorts. She had no idea how this was going to work in the front passenger seat of her Honda, especially with him in a leg brace, but she was game to figure out the logistics. She tackled his zipper with the same gusto he went at hers.

She ached for him. Deep down. Hard and helpless. A pristine pain so sharp and pure it felt as if it could never be sated. It terrified her. This contradiction of what she wanted and what she knew was good for her. But she could not seem to swim upstream against the sexual force pushing her to merge with this man. She did not really want to resist. Not in her heart.

His hand slipped past her waistband, moved aside the skimpy material of her panties, his fingers unerringly finding her trigger. Passion seized her body, moved through her in escalating waves. She grasped both his shoulders, holding herself aloft over him while he explored her tender feminine folds.

Tara gazed down at him in the darkness that was full of shadows. His eyes were on hers. They stared at each other, into each other. His hips twitched beneath her, his erection growing harder still. His stroking escalated, stealing any rational thought. She heard a roaring in her ears, high and rough like impending rapids lying await in the next turn of a rain-swollen river.

His hand controlled her. She was a marionette and he was the puppet master, making her feel...oh, the things he was making her feel! Alive and stolen, exalted and tremulous, claimed and cherished.

Tara’s blood thundered through her veins, thumped at her temples, throbbed through every cell of her body with one single word.
Boone. Boone. Boone.

His fingers stoked her desire, stealing all thought from her head. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the amazing sensation.

“Tara” he said. “You look beautiful when you’re about to come.”

And she
was
about to come. Could he feel it rising up in her? Did he understand that he was her ultimate undoing?

The surge of her orgasm took her out of her body. It was a beautiful experience. She shuddered, trembled, glowed.

He had both arms around her now, pulled her protectively down onto his chest. Gently, he kissed her, his hand smoothing her sweat-dampened hair from her face. He held her while her passion dwindled and her breathing returned to normal. She couldn’t help feeling guilty that she’d come alone, Boone still stalwartly in control of himself. If they hadn’t been in a parked car, she would have turned the tables on him.

“Leg cramp, leg cramp,” he exclaimed.

She scrambled off him and tumbled into the driver’s seat, fumbling to do up her pants. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Gotta stand up.” He sat up and reached for the door handle.

A rap smacked against Tara’s window.

The knock ricocheted around the Honda like a spent bullet. Startled, she looked over to see a uniformed Tennessee trooper standing there with an irritated scowl, just as Boone bailed out of the car.

“Got a problem here, folks?” The Tennessee state trooper shined the beam of his flashlight over them as they stood beside Tara’s vehicle.

Other than the fact they’d gotten caught making out in a car? Nope. And honestly, Boone didn’t even consider that a problem, because for the first time in a very long time he was enjoying himself. He grinned.

The trooper’s frown deepened. “Did I say something funny?”

Tara cut her eyes at Boone. She was grinning, too.

Boone pressed his lips together, tried to stop smiling , but then he thought of how sexy Tara had looked in his lap while he’d brought her to orgasm and his lips just refused to obey and spread wide across his face once more.

“No problem here,” Tara squeaked, and slammed a palm over her mouth. Her shoulders were shaking up and down.

She was laughing!

If the trooper had shown up one minute earlier, he would have caught them in a compromising position. The position he
had
caught them in was suspicious enough, but at least Tara had been dressed by then.

Boone met her gaze. She was laughing so hard that tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Her laughter caught him low in the gut and he couldn’t help himself. He started laughing, too.

The trooper took a step toward them. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No, no.” Tara waved a helpless hand. “Not at all.” Her lively eyes drilled into Boone and her laughter swept him away. He couldn’t control himself. Even in front of a ticked-off trooper, her laugh was infectious, it spread through Boone and poured from his throat in a loud guffaw.

“Stop laughing!” the trooper commanded.

Tara tried to force herself to sober. She turned her mouth down, made her expression solemn and looked away from Boone.

“Leg cramp,” Boone whispered to her mischievously.

Tara broke into fresh gales of laughter and Boone joined in.

“Are you folks interested in spending the night in lockup?” the trooper threatened. “’Cause that’s where you’re headed.”

“We’re sorry, Officer,” Boone said. “We just got carried away by the situation.”

The trooper rested his hands on his hips. “Most people don’t laugh when they get stopped by law enforcement.” He took another step closer to Boone. “You been drinking?”

Tara put a hand up. “We’re sorry, we’re sorry. We’ve been driving for hours and just got the giggles. We haven’t been drinking. And as you can see—” she waved a hand at the brace on Boone’s knee “—he hasn’t been driving.”

“You willing to take a sobriety test?”

Boone notched up his chin. “I am.”

“He hurt his knee in Afghanistan,” Tara said. “Defending our country.”

The trooper’s face softened. “That true?”

“It is.”

“What branch of service?”

“Army. Green Beret.”

The trooper looked suitably impressed. “My brother served over there. I have some small inkling of what you went through. You will get settled again. Don’t give up. It’s not as dark as it seems.”

Boone glanced at Tara. “I’m starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Thank you for your sacrifice.”

“Thank you,” Boone said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Listen,” the trooper said, “you can’t stay here, but there’s a store up the road. They don’t mind if people camp out in their parking lot.”

“Thank you, Officer. We’re sorry for the inconvenience,” Tara said.

“Take good care of him,” the trooper told Tara. “He needs your love and support right now.”

“I’m doing my best.”

Boone’s heart did a crazy dip and swirl.

The trooper tipped his hat. “You folks have a good night.”

He headed for his patrol car and they got back into the Honda.

“Wow,” Tara said. “That was a close one.”

“It was.”

“I can’t believe we got the giggles.”

“Bad timing.”

“You made it worse by saying ‘leg cramp.’ That was the last thing I expected from you.”

“I know.” He smiled. “That’s why I did it.”

“Oh, Boone Toliver.” She grinned and started the engine. “You’re turning out to have quite the sense of humor.”

And as she drove back onto the road, Boone realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good.

10

Friday, July 3rd, 6:00 a.m.

T
HEY
MANAGED
TO
SNAG
a few hours of sleep in the car in the parking lot of the nearby store, and after they woke up, they had breakfast at a nearby pancake house. They’d changed clothes and freshened up in the restaurant’s restroom and then drove to Shiloh National Military Park, arriving a few minutes before the 6:00 a.m. start time.

The troops were in place, cannons and horses at the ready, blue on one side, gray on the other. Tara stood on tiptoes to see over the head of the tourist standing in front of her.

Boone slipped a hand around her waist and she leaned against him, inhaling the cottony scent of his shirt. Something had changed in him—changed between them. It was more than just what had happened earlier in the intimacy of her car, but Tara couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” she said. “This wouldn’t be nearly as much fun by myself.”

“Me, too. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see the Battle of Shiloh with.”

“Wouldn’t one of your old war buddies be a better choice? You could talk battlefield strategy and they’d understand.”

“You sell yourself short. Besides, none of my old buddies smell as good as you do.” He grinned.

“Remind me to buy more green-apple shampoo.”

“Ah, so that’s what it is. Green apples.”

She could feel the heat of his gaze on her face. A cannon shot went off. Tara jumped. The odor of gunpowder stirred the air. “The battle is starting.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look out across the field. He was totally fixed on her.

Unsettled by his attention, Tara’s cheeks warmed and she felt suddenly embarrassed under his scrutiny. “The rebels are making their move.” She pointed out the advancing regiment, eager to get him to look at something besides her.

Finally, thankfully, Boone shifted his gaze to the battlefield.

Cameras flashed and cell phones clicked as the crowd snapped photographs and took videos grounding the surreal depiction of the past in modern day reality. People were texting, posting to Facebook and Tweeting the event.

“Wonder what my great-great-great-grandfather would have thought of the twenty-first century Shiloh,” she mused to Boone.

“No doubt he’d be stunned by the changes of a hundred and fifty years.”

“I can’t imagine it.”

“What was his name?”

“Travis Sykes. He’s a legend in our family. According to the story, he’d died saving the lives of two other men. One of them survived the war and when it was over, he went to pay his respects to my great-great-great-grandmother Matilda and ended up marrying her.”

“Ouch. Kick in the teeth to poor Travis. Save the guy and he ends up bedding your wife.”

“It wasn’t like that. Not at all. Both Matilda and Richard—that was my step-great-great-great-grandfather’s name—had a deep reverence for Travis and the sacrifices he made. Richard married Matilda as a way to pay back the life Travis had given him. Those kids needed a daddy.”

“That’s the kind of stuff of Hollywood love stories. They could make a movie about it.”

“Not really. Turns out Matilda and Richard really weren’t too fond of each other. They used to have the worst knock-down drag-out fights, but they both respected Travis and so they stayed together out of misguided loyalty or maybe it was simply a sign of their times. People just didn’t get divorced back then. My family tends to downplay that part of the story.”

“Still, it’s pretty impressive that your family has kept Travis’s legacy alive all these years. It’s something most soldiers only dream of.”

“Does it make you sad?” she asked.

He frowned. “What?”

“That you don’t have anyone to keep your legacy alive?”

He shifted. Favoring his leg? Or had her question made him uncomfortable? “I’ve got a sister—”

“Who currently isn’t speaking to you, plus it sounds like she has plenty of legacy of her own since her father is a renowned oceanographer.”

“Trying to stir up trouble, Duvall?” The corners of his mouth quirked, letting her know that he wasn’t really irritated.

“It’s just...well...you’re all alone in that house since your dad died.”

“And?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” What Boone did with his life was none of her business, but it made her sad to think that he didn’t have a family to pass along his legacy.

“It’s impossible to stop you from worrying about other people, huh?” His voice was tenderly rough.

She canted her head, grinned up at him. “Yeah.”

“You’ve got a good heart, Tara.”

His compliment bowled her over. She wished she could read something more into it, but she didn’t dare. They had no future. No point dreaming up fantasies. Once they were in Miami, he’d be out of her life for good.

“Nice day for a gory reenactment.” She changed the subject.

“Yes, but I don’t like the looks of those clouds.” He nodded toward the north.

Sure enough, a bank of dark clouds, while providing a nice respite from the heat, were beginning to close in.

Tara shivered. Storms made her nervous. “Villainous skies.”

“We’ll be driving in it.”

“Maybe not,” she replied and resolved not to worry about the impending rain. Why borrow trouble when the storms could just as easily pass them by?

More people arrived, pushing the crowd in the viewing area closer together. Boone stepped behind Tara, his big strength looming over her, causing her to feel incredibly safe and protected. She liked the feeling far more than she should have.

Stop idealizing him.

Then he did something that took her totally by surprise. He put his arms around her shoulders and drew her against him, the weight of his arms resting comfortably on her collarbones, his broad chest pressed against her spine. The close contact sent waves of pleased satisfaction rippling through her.

They watched in silence for the next hour as the battle played out before them. History came alive. The crowd had fallen into hushed reverence. Tara put herself on the battlefield, imaging she was great-great-great-grandfather Travis. He’d only been twenty-three, two years younger than she was now. He must have been so scared.

Soldiers paid such a high price defending those at home. Boone, too, had paid dearly for his country. Standing this close to him, thinking about all he’d suffered, plucked at her heartstrings and muddled her brain.

As if sensing her tension, Boone tightened his arm around her neck, a reassuring gesture that touched something deep inside her. They’d made a connection, this morning, last night, at the firing range and in that Nebraska cornfield. The roots of it had started before that, even though she imagined Boone would deny it.

“We better go,” she said, realizing he’d been standing for almost two hours on that wounded leg. But she didn’t want to call attention to his weakness, so she nodded at the gray sky clotted with buttermilk clouds. “Get a head start on that rain.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?” he offered. “It’s just now eight.”

“I appreciate the offer, but we’re still sixteen hours out of Miami.”

“Which puts us there at around midnight.”

“If we drive straight through.”

“Even with a couple of short stops we should still get to Miami by one or two tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t forget you still have to get from Miami to Key West. That’s a two-hour drive without traffic, and you’ll need to sleep at least a few hours. We didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Are you sure?” He waved at the battlefield. “You may never get up here again.”

“This sojourn is enough. I can cross it off my bucket list.”

“If you’re sure...”

“I am.” She moved to take his hand, and to Tara’s pleasure, he let her.

* * *

S
OMETHING
HAD
STARTED
changing in Boone even though he couldn’t say what it was. Instead of being quiet and circumspect, he found himself wanting to tell Tara everything about himself. Which was odd. He’d never been the kind of guy to easily share secrets. When he was being self-aware—which he usually tried to avoid at all costs—he had to admit that his silence had been just as much an issue in his marriage as Shaina’s fickleness. He had to admit that she hadn’t known what she was signing up for when she married him because he hadn’t allowed her to really know him.

But now here he was, yakking up a storm like he and Tara were fast friends and he couldn’t strip himself bare fast enough as they rolled south. He glanced over at her. She was the most gorgeous thing—all blonde and sexy and fun. No wonder everyone loved her.

They drove through Tennessee and passed along the Smoky Mountains. The scenery was breathtaking. Tara told him she’d taken banjo lessons when she was ten, but turned out to be hopeless at it. Boone confessed his father had coaxed him into taking guitar lessons, but he’d been equally unsuccessful.

They stopped for gas and had pulled-pork sandwiches for lunch at a little out-of-the-way place that had rocking chairs on the front porch. Tara looked completely surprised when he asked if she wanted to sit on the porch and rock and look at the mountains for a few minutes before they hit the road again.

“Really? Can we spare the time after we stopped in Shiloh?”

“Just for a few minutes,” he said, surprised that he wanted to linger here with her.

There was a checkerboard set up between two rockers. “Interested in a game?” he asked.

Her jaw dropped. “What have you done with Boone Toliver?”

“He’s taken the day off.”

“Hmm, I like this hooky-playing Boone. But really, do we have time?”

“I’m a whiz at checkers. I’ll beat your pants off in nothing flat.”

“What girl could resist a challenge like that? Having the pants beat off of her by a Green Beret. You’re on.”

The pit stop ended up taking over an hour, but by the time they got back into the car, Boone was so relaxed he wished they could have spent the entire day on that porch.

Once they were on their way, he dozed off and woke with a start two hours later.

“Where are we?” He yawned. Stretched.

“Georgia.”

“Sorry to fall asleep on you.”

“Don’t be. You needed it.”

“So do you.”

“I’ll have plenty of time to sleep after I get you to Key West.”

When he was no longer around. Disappointment kicked him in the gut. He was going to miss her.

They took another quick bathroom break and Tara bought a sack of peaches at a roadside stand. The scent from the fruit filled the car.

“Yum,” she said, taking a bite as she started the car once more. “Juicy.”

“Just like you.”

“Boone! Are you flirting with me?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.” She gave him a sexy look and tossed him the peach. “Nibble on this. It will have to do until you can nibble on me.”

Adrenaline sped a dose of excitement through Boone’s bloodstream. He thought about last night. How his recurring nightmare had shifted to an erotic dream about Tara, and then he’d awakened in the middle of it to find himself kissing her. Damn his foolish hide, he’d gone with it. Just like he was going with this teasing high-speed flirtation. He was out of his league here. She possessed a master wit.

“These are freestone peaches,” she said. “They’re juicier than cling peaches, so because of that they’re better for eating. But they disintegrate when you cook with them, so cling peaches are better for cooking.”

“How do you know that?”

“Trial and error. The first time I made peach cobbler I used freestone and ended up with little more than peach flavored dough. What about you? You ever made peach cobbler?”

“No, but I made an apple pie once. For my ex-wife.”

“Really? How did that go?”

“Not well. I think I overcooked the apples. Do they have freestone apples? Maybe that’s what I did wrong.”

“No freestone apples as far as I know.”

“I cheated,” he confessed.

“On your ex-wife?”

“On the pie.”

“How’s that?”

“I used premade pie crust. My ex complained about it.”

“Hey, if a guy went to all the trouble to make me a pie, I wouldn’t make a peep about the crust.”

“Good to know.”

The closer they got to Miami, the more he talked. He seemed compelled to tell her as much as possible about himself before he ran out of time.

They talked about childhood memories. Hers included tales of gator hunting and jaunts on swamp boats with her uncle. His memories entailed horseback riding and fly-fishing. They talked about vacations they’d taken and movies they’d seen. No surprise there that she liked romantic comedies while he preferred thrillers.

“Favorite music?” she asked.

“Country and western. You?”

“Alternative rock.” She plucked another peach from the sack they’d gotten at a roadside stand. She took a bite of the plump, orange fruit and juice dribbled down her chin.

Boone passed her a napkin. Laughing, she dabbed the juice away.

“You know,” she said, “I thought this trip was going to be a living hell, but I’m actually having fun.”

“Living hell, huh?”

She shrugged, chewing her peach pensively. “Admit it, you’re not the most pleasant person in the world.”

“I thought you liked me.”

“No...” She paused, took another bite. “I felt sorry for you.”

That hurt his feelings a little, but he wasn’t going to let her know it.

“But I like you now,” she rushed to add. “Well and truly. You’re not as much of a sourpuss as you like people to believe.”

Was he really that off-putting to people? “Hey, I wasn’t looking forward to this trip any more than you were.”

“But you got over it.” She turned to beam at him. “I’m irresistible.”

“And humble.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. Grinned.

Ah, her sweet, pink, industrious tongue. “Storm’s rolling in faster than I expected,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the sky. All his attention was focused on Tara.

“Coming on strong.”

“Force of nature. It’s gonna hit hard and wet.”