he guided the car toward the Beltway out of town, she adjusted her seat, then flipped through the CD selection. Lyle Lovett, Shania Twain, Stevie Ray Vaughn. Filed alphabetically. Of course. The man had eclectic tastes. Nothing boring here. She slid the Lyle Lovett disc into the player, and flipped through the sheaf of papers he’d handed her. “What is all this anyway?” she asked.
“The itinerary for our trip. It shows driving directions, mileage between major intersections and the hotels where we’ll be staying. I’ve listed our rest stops, stops for fuel and food, along with local gas prices and information on highway conditions.”
She scanned the pages of close print and columns of figures with the horrified fascination of someone perusing an autopsy report. “You must have spent an awful lot of time putting this together,” she said.
“It’ll save us a lot of time later.”
Right. With a week to go until the wedding, they didn’t exactly have to race across country to get there in time, but Craig was obviously one of those guys who didn’t consider a day on the road worthwhile unless he could set a new record for distance traveled in the shortest time.
She slipped the itinerary under the seat. They could deal with that little problem later.
She studied Craig out of the corner of her eye, trying not to be obvious. He had a good strong jaw and short hair. His hands on the steering wheel looked strong, too, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. No ring. Was he divorced? Involved with anyone? Not that she was interested, but she’d been playing the dating game so long such assessments were as automatic as locking her door behind her when she entered her house.
“How do you know Bryan?” she asked.
“We met in college. We were suite mates and both studying business and we really hit it off.”
Of course. He was obviously the serious, sensible businessman. Not a flighty artist like her. “What do you do now?”
“I’m a chef.” He glanced at her, as if gauging her response to this revelation. “Right now I’m in charge of the Senate Dining Room.”
Oh-ho! Not a dull businessman. Cooking was creative, wasn’t it? She leaned forward, suppressing a buzz of excitement. This trip might prove to be a lot more interesting than she’d anticipated. “I’m impressed. And I have to confess, a little intimidated by a man who can cook better than I can.”
His smile was definitely killer. “Not to brag, but I can cook better than most people I know. It comes in handy sometimes.”
Now there would be a nice twist—a man who could cook dinner for me, instead of suffering through my own uneven attempts at a meal. And then for dessert… She quickly pulled her mind back from the cliff it was about to dive off. Where had this rampant lust come from? Yeah, it had been a while since she’d had anything like a steady relationship, but since when did handsome strangers inspire such wild fantasies?
Deep breath, she reminded herself, inhaling slowly. Unfortunately, all she could smell was Craig himself, something herbal and spicy and definitely yummy.
She swallowed hard and leaned back in the seat. Slow down. Make innocuous conversation. “Do you enjoy your work?” she asked.
“The cooking part, yes. I’m thinking of opening my own restaurant soon.”
“You should do it.” She tucked one leg under her and arranged her skirt over her lap. This was more like it. Act casual. Just friends. “I’m a big believer in doing what makes you happy.”
He shook his head. “It’s not so easy. Opening your own place involves a lot of risk. Restaurants fail in this town every day.”
“Life is risky, though. Isn’t it?”
He frowned and she wondered if she’d overdone the Miss Mary Sunshine routine. People had accused her before of being too much of an optimist.
“What do you do that makes you happy?” he asked after a moment.
“I’m an advertising copywriter for a firm that specializes in non-profits.”
“I guess you like the work enough to bring your laptop on vacation with you.”
“Oh, I love the work. But the laptop’s not for that. It’s for my Web diary.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Web diary?”
“Yeah, I’m a blogger. I have a Web site where I post writings about what’s going on in my life.”
“Things like this trip?”
“That’s right. I figured I could make notes as ideas strike me during the day, then upload them at the hotel every evening.”
“And people read this? Strangers?”
“Yeah, I’m made a lot of cool friends that way. Fans.”
He shook his head. “You don’t think it’s a little odd to have people you don’t even know reading about your life?”
She shifted in her seat. “I’m not an idiot. I don’t put personal information on there. It just gives me a chance to work on my writing and…I don’t know. Make a connection. There are hundreds of bloggers. Thousands. It’s another kind of Internet community.”
He continued to look skeptical. “Does this diary of yours have a name?”
“It’s called Travels with Marlee. I write about places I go. Things I see.”
“Do you see that many interesting things?”
She nodded. “They’re out there, if you keep your eyes open. Every trip is a journey of discovery. That’s what the blog is about, really—sharing my discoveries with readers.”
“You don’t think sometimes you’re simply moving from point A to point B in the most efficient manner?”
“This may come as a shock to you, but there are people who think efficiency is overrated.”
He glanced at her. “You, for instance?”
“Haven’t you heard that getting there is half the fun?”
He shrugged. “And sometimes getting there is merely something you endure to reach your destination.”
She leaned toward him. “You wouldn’t be talking about this particular trip, would you?”
“Now why would you think that?” The corners of his mouth twitched and she relaxed. He was teasing her. She couldn’t help but like a man with a sense of humor, even if he kept it under wraps most of the time.
And she did like Craig, in spite of his scarily organized and exacting ways. She supposed there were advantages to having every journey—and the rest of your life—all laid out neatly. There were probably times when having an idea of what you’d be doing next week or next year was useful.
But what if while making all those plans you missed something even better? It seemed an awfully big risk to her.
“I
