alone, the danger, the tension. It was about to end. Just a few more days, maybe a couple of weeks.
He wondered what Hannah would say if he told her the truth. Would she like him more? Respect him? It didn’t matter. Until the assignment was over, until the bad guys were in jail, he wasn’t telling anyone anything. He wasn’t going to risk all that time and effort. He wanted those guys caught.
So Hannah would continue to think he was a criminal and he would let her. Probably best for both of them.
An airline pilot with a girlfriend at every stop? Nick shook his head. He didn’t like that scenario, either. He didn’t want her ex-husband to have abused her, or cheated on her, or done anything illegal. But if the ex was so perfect, why had they divorced?
His stomach rumbled, reminding him it had been a long time since breakfast. He glanced at the billboards on either side of the multilane freeway, then took the next exit to a fast-food restaurant. He pulled in behind a battered pickup truck with two live caged chickens and a goat tied in the back. He glanced at Hannah. She stirred and blinked sleepily.
She had the best-behaved hair of anyone he knew. At the station she wore it in a bun at the back of her head. No matter what time he went by, whether it was the first five minutes of her shift or the last, every hair was in place. He’d never seen a strand sneak out to drift against her cheek or her neck.
Today she wore a thick braid down her back. Despite fighting a hangover and sleeping for the better part of four hours, she was perfectly groomed. He couldn’t help wondering what she would look like all mussed up. Preferably naked, with her hair loose and her eyes heavy with passion.
The stirring in his groin made him shift uncomfortably. Think about something else, he ordered himself.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She glanced around. “No, but I should probably eat. Just a hamburger and soda, please.”
“Sure.” He pulled up to the microphone and placed their order.
“I’ve been asleep,” she said. “You should have woken me.”
“Why?”
“So I could spell you on the driving.”
“I like to drive.”
She leaned back in her seat. “Not surprising. It’s a control thing. Men like to drive because it makes them feel in control.”
“You learn that in Psych 101?”
“Are you denying it’s true?”
“Nope. Just wondering where you got so smart.”
One corner of her pretty mouth turned up slightly. “I figured it out all by myself.”
“You can drive this afternoon.” He wouldn’t mind driving the whole way north, but as they got closer to Glenwood, she would get nervous. Driving would help distract her.
They collected their food and headed back on the road. Hannah handed him his burger and drink as he asked for it He’d eaten in the car before, without help, but he liked her being attentive to him. Male vanity, he thought, grinning. She would probably slug him if she ever discovered what he was thinking.
They passed a sign showing the distances to San Jose, Sacramento and the state line. He reached for his burger. She snatched it back.
“How fast have you been driving?” she demanded. “Were you speeding?”
“A little.”
“More than a little. How fast were you going?”
“I’m not going to tell you.” His voice was teasing. “Besides, this car was built for the open road. How could I resist?”
“You didn’t even try.”
“I try all the time with you, honey, and it doesn’t do me a damn bit of good.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. When he reached for his hamburger, she handed it to him, then faced front as if determined to ignore his presence.
He liked teasing her. He figured if he kept at it long enough, she would eventually lighten up. She had to. No one could be so uptight all the time. She might even find out he wasn’t such a bad guy.
Perversely, he wanted her to like him for himself. He laughed silently. What a load of bull. If Hannah, or any woman, actually started to care about him, he would run so fast in the opposite direction, he would get road burn on his feet. Even if the thought of settling down tempted him on occasion, he preferred to travel light. If he was honest with himself, part of Hannah’s appeal was that she was unreachable. She would never see him as anything but low-life scum.
He finished his burger and took another drink of soda. “Tell me more about your life,” he said.
She collected their trash, transferring it all to one bag, then wiped her hands on a napkin. “It’s really none of your business.”
“You have to give me some personal information. I am going to be pretending to be your husband.”
“You already know enough.”
She made him work for every point. God, he adored her. “I know about the divorce, but that’s not information you want spread around, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Be serious, Nick. You’re supposed to be my first and only husband. You know I was adopted, that I’m a cop. What else is there?”
“How about some information about your childhood? Your adoptive parents. Anything about them?”
She stared out the window. “I was too young to remember much. I don’t want to talk about them.”
“Okay. School. Your favorite subject.”
“I don’t remember. I don’t think I had one. When I was moved around to different foster homes, I also had to change schools. I don’t think this is necessary. It’s not as if Louise is going to have a quiz after dinner and want you to recite details from my past.”
He knew some of her crankiness came from nerves, but the rest of it was because they were treading close to dangerous territory. He knew all about the child welfare system. Some kids got lucky. Others, like Hannah, got passed around from place to place. He knew about growing up lonely and scared, too. He’d had one parent at home—his father. At times, he thought it would have been better if the old man had just kicked him out and let him make his own way.
Hannah twisted her hands together. Nick wanted to reach out to her, but sensed she wasn’t in any mood to accept comfort She was prickly, but the shell had to be hard to protect a soft heart. While the thought of her actually caring about him was terrifying, he could easily be concerned about her. It was safe because there wasn’t a chance of it becoming real.
“You grew up in Los Angeles?” he asked.
“Orange County.”
“College?”
“Yes,
