“What’s the fastest way to the interstate from here?”
“What?” I gulped and glanced over my shoulder. Into oncoming traffic. “It’s – ” My next words disappeared into a shriek as Jackson narrowly scraped between a yellow cab and a minivan. My heart lurched into my throat. “Um, three blocks down. There’s a ramp on your left.”
“Thanks, babe.”
Babe? I stole another look at Mr. Rumpled-but-Sexy-Runaway-Groom. Okay, I’d been called worse by far more unattractive guys than this one. What exactly happened at a safe house, anyway? Before my thoughts turned entirely wicked, my own cell phone rang. Caller ID showed my partner, Lissa.
“Beth?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Where the hell are you?”
Now, how did I answer that? Jackson dared a yellow light and made it to the onramp. No sirens in pursuit. I allowed myself a sigh of temporary relief. “On my way back to the shop,” I lied. Lissa was out of town for the weekend, so she’d never know I was lying through my teeth. “Why?”
“Why? Because Donny DiNardo just called from the coatroom of the church, wondering where the hell the groom is.”
“The groom? How would I know?”
“Maybe because the flower girl saw him get into a beat-up blue van with you.”
Shit.
Before I could say anything else, Jackson reached over and pulled the phone from my hand. “What’d I tell you about tracing these?” he mouthed.
I would have answered, but I was too fascinated by the movement of those full lips as he said the words.
“Um…”
A second later, he tossed my phone out the driver’s side window.
“Hey!”
“I’ll get you another one.”
Sure he would.
“Listen, I’m sorry. It’s just…”
I almost forgave him. Almost. But then he took the Jarvis Road exit fast enough to rattle my teeth, and the next thing I knew, we were heading straight up Jarvis Mountain, about five miles out of town. Which was not necessarily a good thing, since the only thing at the top of the highest peak in four counties was a deserted factory and a few tumble-down shacks. This is where your safe house is? I wanted to ask.
“Listen, Beth.” Jackson slowed the van to a crawl, reached across the seat and took my free hand. I stopped thinking about houses and mountains and instead focused on drawing a complete breath.
“Uh, yeah?”
One corner of his mouth quirked up deliciously. “I know this wasn’t probably what you had planned for your Saturday afternoon.”
“Well, you know, I…” I wasn’t about to confess that most of my Saturday afternoons consisted of hanging out with my pals Ben and Jerry and flipping through weepy Lifetime movies.
He pulled onto the shoulder of the road but didn’t let go of my hand. Warmth radiated from the knuckle of my little finger up to my elbow and down to my girl parts, all clamoring for attention.
“It’s just – things are a little more complicated than I can explain right now.”
No kidding.
“I need to ask a favor.”
“You mean besides stealing my van?”
He smiled, and something slippery stole through my veins. “Yeah. Besides that.”
“What?”
He loosened his tie, reminding me all over again that this guy, possible felon or not, lousy fiancé or not, looked damned sexier in a tuxedo than any man at any wedding I’d seen over the last year. And I’d seen a lot of them.
“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
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