She hesitated.
“We’re both tired,” he added logically. “It can’t hurt to get a couple of hours’ rest before we try to deal with the cops, can it?”
“Not unless they charge us with obstructing justice because we waited so long.”
“Tara, we’ve no proof of anything we tell them. All we have is a wild tale of seeing a body in a back room, of being shot at and tracked to a motel. The police obviously have no body, since they’re looking for a thief rather than a murderer. I’ve got a friend making some inquiries for me. Let me call him and find out what he’s learned. Then we’ll talk about what to do next.”
After another long moment, Tara sighed and nodded. “All right. Whatever you think best.”
He wanted to kiss her again. He tried to tell himself it was only because he was grateful for her trust and her courage...but since he’d wanted to kiss her from the moment he’d met her, he knew there was much more to it than that. Just as he knew this
wasn’t the time to follow through on the impulse.
“I’ll get us a room,” he repeated gruffly. “I won’t take long.”
He heard the truck doors lock almost as soon as he climbed out.
Tara wasn’t taking the evening’s adventure quite as calmly as she pretended.
THE MOTEL ROOM was even smaller than the little cabin in Marietta. It was furnished with two double beds that almost filled the room, with a nightstand between them, and a long, cheap dresser bolted to the opposite wall. There wasn’t even space for a table or chairs. An open dressing area with a single sink and a bar for hanging clothes took up the back of the room and led into the tiny cubicle that held a bathtub and toilet.
“Not exactly the Ritz, is it?” Blake asked, looking around the room with a grimace. “But it’s quiet, anonymous and close to the freeway in case we need to make a quick exit.”
“It’s clean,” Tara said wearily, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. “That’ll do.”
Blake eyed her a bit too perceptively. “When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”
She didn’t exactly remember. She’d been so stressed over the situation at the law firm....
“I’m all right,” she said.
“You’re dead on your feet,” Blake returned flatly. “Lie down. Get some rest. I’ll make my calls and then I’ll let you know when it’s time to move on.”
She couldn’t imagine getting any sleep with him moving around the room, talking on the telephone. Watching her.
But she was tired. So tired that she suddenly ached.
“Maybe I’ll just put my feet up for a little while,” she murmured, slipping out of her shoes. Her cramped toes seemed to sigh in relief.
His thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his comfortable-looking jeans, Blake eyed her with a frown. “You can’t relax in that suit. Why don’t you take off the jacket and skirt?”
She thought of the scanty black bra and bikini panties she wore beneath the suit. No way was she stripping down to her underwear in front of Blake. “I’m fine,” she assured him.
He reached for his bag. “Maybe there’s something in here you can wear.”
“Really, Blake, that’s not...”
He pulled out a black fleece sweat suit and a pair of white tube socks. “This should work,” he said in satisfaction. “The pants have a drawstring.”
Tara looked questioningly at the duffel bag. “Just what else do you have in there?”
He grinned. “The suit, shirt and tie I was wearing earlier, the shoes I wore with it, a couple of pairs of clean underwear, one more clean shirt, and some toiletries. It really isn’t a bottomless bag.”
She smiled faintly in return. “I was beginning to wonder what you’d pull out next.”
He lifted an eyebrow. Noting the glint in his bright blue eyes, Tara braced herself for a double-entendre reply, but Blake only tossed her the sweat suit. “You can change in the bathroom. I’ll call my friend.”
Tara nearly choked when she saw her reflection in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door. Her hair was coming down in straggly wisps. Her formerly crisp dinner suit was wrinkled and there were bits of weeds and grass clinging to her skirt. Patches of bare leg showed through the rips and tears in her black panty hose.