to find Justin less angry over dinner, she was doomed to disappointment. He sat at the head of the table like a stone man, barely speaking through the meal. She couldn’t talk to him. She didn’t know what to say.
Afterward, he went out the door without a word and Shelby felt a sense of utter desperation. If only she could go to him and put her arms around him, explain how she felt, why she was the way she was. But would he believe her, with their past?
Misery wrapped around her like a blanket. She got her purse and went out to her car. If Justin thought she was going to sit around by herself for what was left of the evening, he could just think again.
She started the sports car, revved the engine, backed out and roared away. The wonderful thing about the little car was the delicious feel of its controlled speed. She loved the straight road, the sense of freedom she felt with the wind in her long hair, the exhilaration of being alone with her thoughts.
Justin hated her, but that was nothing new. He always had. She’d hurt him and he was never going to forgive her. She didn’t know why she’d agreed to marry him; it was never going to work out. She’d been a fool to go through with it in the first place, so she had only herself to blame for her present misery.
She was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice the stop sign until she was on it, and the loud baritone of a truck’s horn made her blood freeze.
A huge transfer-trailer truck was barreling down the highway. Shelby’s little car wasn’t going to be fast enough to beat that mammoth vehicle across the intersection, and it was touch and go if she’d be able to stop at all.
With her heart in her throat, and the numb certainty of death stiffening her body, she hit the brake. The car went into a spin, the squeal of tires terrible in the later afternoon stillness, her face frozen with terror as she lost control and the sky went around and around and around…
The car spun into the deep ditch and leaned drunkenly sideways, but amazingly it didn’t turn over. Shelby sat, shaken but unhurt, nausea bitter in her throat and the world spinning around her. There was the sound of another car screeching to a halt. A door opened. There was the sound of running feet and then, suddenly, a man’s anguished shout.
“Shelby!” The man’s face was familiar, but somehow unfamiliar. It was hoarse and choked and blackly furious. “Answer me, damn it, are you all right?”
She felt her seat belt being forced away from her with hands that were lean and brown and shaking. She felt those same hands running over her body, searching for blood or broken bones, exquisitely gentle.
“Are you all right?” Justin asked huskily. “Do you hurt anywhere? For God’s sake, sweetheart, answer me!”
“I…I’m fine,” she whispered numbly. “The door…?”
“It won’t open, the frame’s sprung. Easy does it, now.” He carefully reached down to get her under the armpits and with formidable strength he lifted her clear of the car. When she was on the ground, swaying, he picked her up with exquisite tenderness and carried her up from the ditch. The truck driver had stopped down the road and was coming toward them, but Justin didn’t seem to see him. His expression was rigid with control, but he couldn’t stop his arms from trembling under her slender body.
That fact finally registered in Shelby’s dazed mind. She looked up then and saw his face, and her breath fluttered. He was flour-white, only his eyes alive and glittering blackly in that set, haunted face. He looked down at her, his arms convulsively dragging her against his chest.
“You little fool…!” he choked.
As long as she lived, she knew she’d never forget the horror she saw in his eyes. She reached up to hold him, her only thought to remove that look from his eyes.
“It’s all right, Justin,” she murmured softly. His reaction fascinated her. She’d never seen him shaken before. It made her feel protective, that tiny chink in his cool armor.
“I’m fine, Justin,” she whispered. Her eyes searched his, amazed at the vulnerability there. She touched his mouth, her soft fingers caressing as they slid up into his thick, dark hair. “Darling, I’m all right, really I am!” She pulled his mouth down and put hers softly against it, loving the way he let her kiss him, even if it was only out of shock—which, in fact, it was. For several seconds she savored the newness of it, then something stirred in her slender body, and her mouth pushed upward, hungry for a harder, deeper contact than this. It had been years since they’d kissed, since they’d really kissed. She moaned softly and he seemed to come out of his trance. His arm contracted, and his hard mouth opened hungrily against hers on a wild, shattered groan.
His mouth hurt as it dragged against hers while he muttered something violent and unintelligible against her soft lips. He pulled back with evident reluctance as the truck driver came running down the highway toward them.
“Is she all right?” the man asked, panting from the long run he’d had. “My God, I was sure I’d hit her…!”
“She’s all right,” Justin answered tersely. “But that damned car won’t be when I can lay my hands on my rifle.”
The truck driver sighed with pure relief. “Damn, lady, you can sure handle yourself,” he said with admiration. “If you’d lost your nerve and thrown up your hands, you’d be dead and I’d be a mental patient.”
“I’m sorry.” Shelby wept, her nerve broken from the combination of the near miss and the exquisite ardor of Justin’s hard mouth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you coming!”
The truck driver, a young man with red hair, just shook his head, barely able to get his breath. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a trembling smile. “Thank you for stopping. It wasn’t your fault.”
“That wouldn’t have made me feel any better,” she was told. “Well, if you’re sure, I’ll be on my way.” He looked at Justin, and almost offered to help, but the glitter in those black eyes wasn’t encouraging.
“As my wife said, thanks for stopping,” Justin said.
The younger man nodded, smiled and walked away with patent relief, wondering why a woman that pretty would marry such a desperado. He was glad she wasn’t hurt. He wouldn’t have relished having to face that wild-eyed husband unarmed.
Justin didn’t say another word. He turned, carrying Shelby to the Thunderbird. He balanced her on his knee, opened the passenger door and put her inside very gently.
“What about my car?” she asked.
His black eyes met hers. “Damn your car,” he said huskily. He slammed the door and went around to get in under the wheel. But he didn’t start the car. He sat with his hands, white-knuckled, gripping the steering wheel for a long moment while Shelby waited for the explosion that she knew was about to come. Justin had been badly shaken and somebody was going to pay for it. Now that he was sure she was all right, she could imagine that he was loading both verbal barrels.
“Go ahead, give me hell,” she said tearfully, searching in the glove compartment for a tissue. “I was driving too fast, and I wasn’t watching. I deserve every lecture I get.” She blew her nose. “How did you get here so fast?”
He still didn’t speak. After
