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Natalie laughed as she merged onto the highway. “Most women see your smile and tumble into your bed. They’re not even listening when you deliver your lines comparing them to aspirin.”
“But you’re listening,” he said. “Even when you’re pretending to ignore me.”
“It’s part of the job.” She shifted in her seat, her skirt riding up her thighs. “I pay attention to everything that happens in my bar.”
Jack fought the urge to reach over and rest his hand on her thigh. She’d probably swerve into the breakdown lane and slam on the brakes. Then she’d demand that he get out of the car and walk to Sin City.
“Sto
p staring at my legs, Jack.”
“It’s a nice skirt,” he said. “Can I talk you out of it?”
“Sure.” She glanced over her left shoulder and moved into the passing lane.
He coughed, his eyes widening.
Well shit, that was easy. Too easy—
“I’ll change into jeans at the next rest stop,” she added.
He laughed and glanced out the window. They sped past a semi and a driver who’d mistaken the highway bypassing Los Angeles for a two-lane road in a school zone. But Natalie didn’t move back into the right-hand lane.
“In a hurry to get there?” he asked.
“Lucia put me in charge of the bachelorette party. I have a long to-do list. And before you ask, no, having sex with you in your bed, my bed, or anywhere else is not on that list. You’re not getting laid tonight, so you can stop with the lines.”
“Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow,” he sang, not bothering to match the high pitch of the little girl who’d made the lyrics famous. “You’re only—”
“Please,” she said, her tone raw and rough, nothing like the I’m-pretending-to-be-annoyed tone she’d used since they left Coronado. “I hate that song.”
He shut up and studied her profile. The corner of her full lips dipped into a frown. He wished he could erase the sorrow from her expression. But shit, he’d caused it by not making the connection between little orphan Annie and the woman who’d lost her parents to a car accident. “Sorry.”
“Tomorrow isn’t always better,” she said, her hands clutching the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white.
“No, it isn’t,” he said. “But I still try to hold on to that hope. Because looking back at the past? That sucks, too.”
She slammed on the brakes, and his gaze snapped to the red lights stretching on and on in front of them. Sirens sounded, the noise growing closer. Seconds later, emergency vehicles sped past them in the breakdown lane.
Shit. Perfect timing for a freaking accident. Not that there was a good time for a car crash—
“There’s an accident ahead,” she murmured as the vehicle in front of them moved an inch and stopped.
“It just happened,” he said. “This place is like a parking lot. And we still have hours to go.”
Accidents sucked. And sitting in traffic wasn’t at the top of his list of fun things to do, but…
“Looks like we’ll be here for a while,” he added with a playful smile, turning to her.
“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes as though she wished to block out the scene in front of them.
His smile vanished. Shit, was she envisioning the turned over cars? Was her mind traveling back in time to the accident that killed her parents? He reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Are you all right, Natalie?”
She opened her eyes. “I’m just… I’m…”
The giant dog whimpered from the backseat, shifting his massive weight. And her gaze narrowed as if she’d just returned to here and now inside her compact car. She shrugged his hand off her shoulder.
“I’m just worried about Mufusa,” she said. She lifted her hips and reached her right arm back to pet her four-legged friend. The move caused her skirt to slide up her legs.
