AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He had more than enough problems of his own, and he should have just let her go, but his instincts were on full alert. “So what are you going to do now?” he called after her.
She didn’t answer him.
A crazy idea hit him. He mulled it over for all of five seconds before making up his mind. “Do you want to hitch a ride?”
She stopped walking and turned. “With you?”
“Me and the kids from hell.” He moved toward her. “We’re heading west to Grandma’s house. Iowa. We can drop you off if you’re going that way.”
She regarded him incredulously. “You’re inviting me along?”
“Why not? But the ride’s not free.”
Her expression grew wary, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. But pregnant women weren’t high on his list of turn-ons. “You have to keep Lucy off my back and take care of the baby. That’s all.”
He’d expected her to be relieved, but the moment he mentioned the baby, she seemed to stiffen. “I don’t know anything about babies.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you learned?”
It took her a moment to remember she was pregnant. He was getting the idea that she wasn’t exactly overjoyed about her little bundle of joy. She only thought it over for a few seconds before her eyes began to sparkle with something that looked like excitement. “Yes. All right. Yes, I’d like that.”
Her reaction surprised him. There was more to this lady than met the eye. He reminded himself that he didn’t know anything about her, and he wondered if too much contact with Sandy’s kids had shorted out his brain. But driving one more mile with Lucy’s sullenness and a screaming baby was more than he could tolerate. Besides, if it didn’t work out, he could give her some money and dump her at the next truck stop. He turned back toward the Winnebago. “One warning.”
“What’s that?”
“They both have delicate stomachs.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll find out.” He opened the door for her. “What’s your name?”
“N-Nell. Nell Kelly.”
Her hesitation made him wonder if she was telling the truth. Her boyfriend must be a real loser. “I’m Mat Jorik.”
She gave a nod of acknowledgment that looked almost regal, and right then it hit him. Cornelia Case. That’s who she looked like.
He must have celebrities on the brain. First he’d decided Lucy looked like Winona Ryder, and now this lady reminded him of a pregnant version of Cornelia Case. Even their voices were similar, but he couldn’t imagine the nation’s aristocratic First Lady ending up broke, pregnant, and abandoned at a roadside truck stop in rural Pennsylvania. “Anybody ever mention that you look like Cornelia Case?”
She blinked. “All the time.”
“You even sound alike, but you’ve got an accent. I can’t quite place it. Where are you from?”
“The Carolinas. Alabama. Michigan for a while, then California. My folks moved around a lot. It affected my speech.”
“Yeah, I guess it did.” The sunlight hit the top of her head, and he saw a small brown stain on the s
kin near her temple, as if she’d recently colored her hair and hadn’t gotten off all the dye. He automatically filed the detail away. Nell Kelly might be down on her luck, but she still had enough vanity left to take the time to color her hair. It was the kind of observation that used to set his newspaper stories apart.
She smelled good, and, as he moved aside to let her into the motor home, he felt something odd. If she hadn’t been pregnant, he would have chalked it up to desire. It had been a while since he was in a relationship—he thought of the flying copy of Bride magazine—and his sex life had suffered. But it hadn’t suffered enough to make him respond to a skinny pregnant lady. Still, there was something about her . . .
“After you, princess.” He dipped his head.
“Princess?” Nealy’s own head shot up, and she was met with a lady-killer grin that made her wonder if she’d lost her mind. Not only had she just hitched a ride with a stranger, but the stranger was a foot taller and a lot stronger than she was. And that smile . . . Although it wasn’t lecherous, it had a challenging quality that she found unnerving.
“Somehow it seems to fit,” he said.
She had no idea how to reply to that, so she slipped past him—not that easy to do—and stepped inside. Her decision had been impulsive, but not completely foolish, she decided, as she gazed around the interior of the motor home. Although there was definitely something dangerous about him, it wasn’t a naked-female-left-dismembered-in-a-ditch kind of danger. He’d offered to stay and talk to the police, hadn’t he? And, best of all, her excellent adventure wasn’t over.
