He took it, and then she had him make a left, a right, a left... Soon they really were on back roads, at first tar and chip, and then gravel, and he winced every time he heard a stone bounce off the side panels.
Robert drove the regional highw
ay daily, but this wasn't an area he'd ever had reason to enter. It was...desolate. That was the word for it. Part of his architect's brain looked around and saw development potential, one of those clusters of multimillion-dollar homes, an oasis for Chicago's wealthy. But his gut said no, this wasn't the sort of place to raise a family. It just wasn't.
"Are you sure we're going the right way?" he asked, squinting against the night. There wasn't a house in sight, and he was sure they'd gone much more than two miles since leaving the main road.
"It's just up here," the girl said, but her tone added, I think. And when he looked over, she was chewing her lip, looking from one window to the next, as if searching for landmarks.
"Maybe we should--" he began.
"Just a little farther. Take the next left."
He did. Watching the odometer, though, the "next left" turned out to be almost two miles away.
"Do you have her address?" He tapped the screen on his car dash. "I can plug it into the GPS."
"It's just up here. The next road will be on the right. Oh, there it is! See?"
He turned right...onto what was little more than a dirt trail.
"You can let me out here if you want," she said when he couldn't suppress a flinch as the tires thunked down into a rut.
He looked at her, white dress glowing in the pale moonlight.
"I'm fine," he said, reminding himself that he knew a good auto body shop if there were any scratches. "I would never leave you out here."
"That's very sweet." She looked up at him with big brown eyes. "I appreciate how kind you've been."
Did he imagine it, or did she lean a little closer when she said that? He watched as her breasts pressed against her bodice, and he adjusted his jacket to cover his reaction.
Perhaps he should let her see how much he appreciated the scenery. Nothing wrong with that. Just as long as he kept both hands on the wheel, allowing himself only sidelong glances, being a gentleman. Controlling himself.
He imagined getting to her destination. Her friend's house would be dark, and he'd insist on walking her up, nothing untoward. Just making sure everything was okay. He'd open the passenger door, and she'd turn and be confronted by his obvious interest, right at eye level. He'd pull his jacket shut quickly, act like he hoped she hadn't seen that. She'd smile, biting her lip as she rose. Then she'd lean in and say, in her breathy voice, "You've been so kind. I'm sorry if I've inconvenienced you." And before he could say no, no, that was fine, he'd feel the tug of his zipper and her slender hand sliding inside, warm fingers wrapping around him--
Robert shifted in his seat.
She looked over. "You really can just drop me off. You must have other things to do."
"No, no, I'm fine. Your friend is waiting."
"Actually, she's not home. She's on the night shift, or I'd have called for a lift. I have the house all to myself."
The image flashed again, that darkened house, him opening her car door...
He replayed the fantasy, slower now, embellishing it.
"I think it's just up here," she said, and he jumped from his thoughts. His gaze dropped to the odometer. Twelve miles had passed since he'd last looked at it.
Twelve miles? No, that wasn't possible. It must have been two. He'd misread the starting mileage.
"Just up here, you said?" he asked.
When she didn't answer, he looked over to see her nibbling her lip.
"Miss?" he prompted.
"I...I thought it was but...this doesn't look familiar at all." She shook her head sharply. "No, I'm sure this is-- Oh, there! Turn right there."