Arden Wexford pounded on the steering wheel, then turned the ignition key one more time. Still dead. Funny how that worked. Apparently the nineteenth time wasn’t the charm. Sighing heavily, she got out of her car and slammed the door, releasing a bit of frustration. She looked under the hood even though she didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was searching for.
Her great big adventure, as she had been sarcastically referring to it since her beloved Beetle had broken down, wasn’t turning out the way she’d planned. If things had gone the way she’d intended, she would be closer to her parents’ house in Florida by now. Instead, she was stranded in Nowhere, North Carolina. She wished she’d driven the Mercedes sedan her parents had given her when she’d graduated from college two years ago. But her candy-red Bug felt like a big hug from her brothers. Driving it always made her happy. After the disaster with Michael-the-jerk, she needed cheering.
Now, though, she wished she had driven the old-lady car. She’d be that much farther away from Baltimore and men willing to stoop to the lowest depths to turn her money into theirs. She was done with greedy men. She was going to hole up in her parents’ winter home and enjoy life away from the vipers.
If she ever got out of North Carolina.
She kicked the tire of the offending vehicle even though it wasn’t to blame for her predicament. It was properly inflated and ready to roll. All it needed was the car to start.
Arden considered turning the key for the twentieth time, but decided against it. Twenty wasn’t going to be any luckier than nineteen. And if she didn’t want to spend the night on the side of the road hoping that 2,019 was the charm, she needed to start walking.
She locked the car, then dug through her purse and grabbed her cell phone. She glanced at the screen one more time, hoping that service bars would magically appear. None did.
She’d passed a road sign a couple of miles back indicating she was six miles from some town she’d never heard of. Small Briar or something like that. It couldn’t be more than four or so miles away. She ran that far most mornings at her health club. Of course the walk would be easier if she wasn’t wearing her cute-to-look-at-but-not-good-for-much-else high-heeled sandals. They were perfect for the airplane flight she’d originally planned. But then her brother commandeered the family jet at the last minute to fly to Monte Carlo for a meeting at one of the Wexford luxury hotels. He’d invited her to come along to relax while he worked, but she’d declined. Her brothers might not mind having their pictures appear in gossip rags catering to people enamored of the rich and famous, but she did. So, she’d decided to drive.
Traffic on the highway was light, with cars passing only occasionally. None of the drivers so much as slowed down. Weren’t people in the South supposed to be friendly? Not that she blamed them. She’d never pick up a stranger. And, truthfully, she wasn’t sure she’d take a ride even if one was offered.
The day had started out warm and breezy with a clear blue sky. Her T-shirt and color-coordinated skirt had been perfect then, but in the past twenty or so minutes, the temperature had plunged. The cool wind made her long for a sweater. Dark clouds were gathering and the sky was growing threatening. The smell of rain filled the air. She remembered hearing something about a storm in the weather forecast, but since she hadn’t expected to still be in the area, she hadn’t paid close attention.
Arden picked up her pace, hoping to get to shelter before the clouds burst and she got drenched. After walking about a mile, she checked her cell phone for service again. Still none. Amazing. Her car, which couldn’t make it from Baltimore to Tampa, had somehow managed time travel, propelling her into the Dark Ages.
Well, there was no use crying over it. She’d just have to keep walking. She eased a foot from her sandal and shook out yet another pebble. Rubbing her right foot on top of her left, she wondered if shoes that cost nearly a thousand dollars shouldn’t be as comfortable as they were beautiful.
Arden slid her foot back into her sandal and, after promising herself a good foot massage as soon as she reached civilization, continued her trek to town. She’d taken a handful of steps when a late-model silver pickup pulled to a stop several yards ahead of her. The driver’s door opened and a giant of a man got out. He closed the door and walked around to the back of the truck.
He had thick dreadlocks that were pulled back into a ponytail that hung to the middle of his back. His shoulders were so wide that she imagined he took up more than his share of an airline seat. His broad shoulders only emphasized his flat stomach and trim hips.
He was truly handsome, with dark chocolate skin, a jaw that could only be described as rugged and black eyes that quickly scanned her from head to toe before returning to meet her gaze. A shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature danced down her spine.
Although he had not done anything remotely intimidating, every warning her parents and older brothers had drilled into her since birth about stranger danger raced through her mind. Weren’t rich kids always at risk of being kidnapped and held for ransom? Arden looked around. There wasn’t another car in sight. She was alone on a deserted highway with a huge man. And no cell service. She stumbled back, cursing her high-heeled shoes.
As if sensing her trepidation, the man backed up until he bumped into his truck, his hands raised, palms out. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you. I passed your car a couple miles back. That is, if you’re driving a red Beetle.”
His voice was deep, and she noted that he spoke in a calm manner as if soothing a child. She nodded.
“You’ve walked a long way. You still have about two miles to go until you reach Sweet Briar.” He looked up at the darkening sky. “There’s a severe thunderstorm warning in effect. Hop in and I’ll drop you off in town.”
Although he seemed harmless, her family’s lessons were too deeply ingrained to cast off simply because a guy had a smooth disc-jockey voice.
Arden shook her head. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll walk. A little rain never hurt anybody. Besides, it’s not raining yet. Maybe it won’t.”
On cue, lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a loud clap of thunder. And then it started to rain.
“I really don’t mind giving you a lift.”
Arden tilted her head as she stared at him. Something was off. Although the words were correct and his posture nonthreatening, he didn’t appear at all pleased to offer her the ride. He was grimacing and seemed to be forcing the words out of his mouth as if he really didn’t want to say them. He reminded her of a reluctant twelve-year-old whose mother kept poking him in the back, prodding him to ask a girl to dance. That reluctance certainly didn’t engender confidence.
“No, thanks. I’ll take my chances with the rain.” It was becoming more of a steady downfall by the second but, still, wet was better than dead or whatever else he might have in mind.
* * *
Brandon stared at the woman, wondering if she’d lost her mind. Her hair was plastered to her head and water streamed down her face. Her T-shirt, a pale gray with some sort of orange-and-pink design, now clung to her breasts and tiny waist. He had a feeling she had not as yet realized that her top was fast becoming transparent, revealing the lacy white bra she wore beneath it. She was getting soaked to the bone and she wanted to walk?
Of