Chapter Two
They’d been on the road for almost two hours when Donovan nodded toward a small convenience store ahead. “We’re just past the halfway point of our trip. I could use a cold drink. How about you?”
“A cold drink sounds good.”
He flipped on his turn signal, automatically glancing in the rearview mirror as he did so. A big, extended-cab pickup was right on his back bumper, followed by a blue, soccer-mom minivan. The van had its signal on, too—no surprise, since there wasn’t another convenient place to stop for several miles ahead.
Because his gas tank was still more than half full, he drove into a parking space on one side of the small store. The only open space available, it lay in deep shadow. Though it wasn’t a particularly cold day, Donovan felt a chill go through him when he turned off the motor. He’d learned to trust feelings like that; he looked around before opening his door. Everything looked fine—a couple of older-model vehicles, several work-weary pickup trucks, and the soccer-mom van, which was parked at one of the three gas pumps.
Chloe eyed him quizzically. “Are you supposed to be my bodyguard?”
That whipped his head around, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her. “What makes you ask that?”
“Something about the way you checked out the place just now—all tense and alert, like a Hollywood version of a secret service agent.”
His reply was more curt than he had intended. “I’m no bodyguard. Do you want to go in with me or wait out here?”
She reached for her door handle. “I’ll go in.”
He followed close on her heels as they stepped out of the shadows and around to the front of the store. She glanced over her shoulder at him when they entered. “If you’ll excuse me a moment,” she said, motioning in the general direction of the restrooms.
He nodded and turned to a wall-size cooler filled with soft drinks. He found himself watching the restroom doors during the brief time Chloe was out of his sight, though he couldn’t imagine why he was suddenly so antsy.
This whole situation probably had him unnerved. Bryan was supposed to be making this trip, but he’d been detained in New York and had arranged to meet them at his Ozarks vacation home. He’d asked Donovan to make sure Chloe got there safely. In a couple of hours, Bryan would become Chloe’s companion, and Donovan could get back to his own life—which, admittedly, consisted mostly of work.
Chloe joined him at the cooler, reached inside and selected a diet cola. They carried their selections to the register, setting them side by side on the counter. Chloe started to open her purse, but Donovan already had his money in hand. “I’ve got them.”
She looked as though she wanted to argue, but his expression must have let her know there would be no point. The purchases paid for, he handed her the diet cola and motioned toward the door.
A cloud passed in front of the sun just as they stepped outside, plunging the parking lot into even deeper shadow and making the brisk breeze that skipped around them feel suddenly colder. Once again, Donovan found himself moving closer to Chloe’s side.
Chloe looked at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”
He was being foolish, of course. This wasn’t one of the rare operations during which he had to flinch at every sound, search every shadow, or suspect every bystander of being armed and dangerous. All he was doing was escorting Bryan’s girlfriend for a few hours. Not an assignment he would have chosen for himself, but certainly not a hazardous duty.
Chloe found herself sneaking glances at Donovan again during the remainder of the quiet ride. She regretted that he had slipped on a pair
of dark sunglasses when they’d left the convenience store. His face had been difficult enough to read when she could see his eyes, as little as they revealed. Now, all she could see was the hard line of his jaw—which wasn’t encouraging conversation.
He would probably be perfectly happy if they completed the rest of the trip in silence. Even when he’d tried to make small talk, he hadn’t been particularly friendly. Maybe she shouldn’t take it personally. Maybe he was this way with everyone, although she found it hard to believe that charming, congenial Bryan Falcon’s closest friend had the personality of granite.
She couldn’t say this trip was starting out promisingly. But, at least, she had never had any trouble talking to Bryan, she reminded herself. Just the opposite, in fact; they’d chatted almost like old friends from the first time they’d met.
If Bryan felt more like a good friend than a potential lover—well, that was something she was hoping to overcome during the next few days. Bryan was handsome, personable, intelligent, amusing, attentive—everything a woman could want. She was quite sure that once they were alone, away from the pressure of public scrutiny, their relationship would progress naturally.
She wasn’t looking for blazing passion in a marriage, she reminded herself. She wasn’t expecting to fall desperately in love—nor to be blindly adored in return. She’d sought those romantic myths before, only to be repeatedly disappointed. She would be content now with security, respect, affection and, most of all, children—and Bryan had almost convinced her he wanted exactly the same things.
Why couldn’t Grace understand how appealing his offer sounded?
As for Donovan—Chloe risked a glance at the stern-faced man behind the wheel. He’d made his disapproval clear enough. Did he really think of her as a scheming gold digger, or was he, like Grace, completely turned off by the businesslike way Bryan and Chloe were going about this courtship? She doubted that Donovan harbored any romantic illusions about love and marriage. She would bet he was convinced she was only after Bryan’s money, that Bryan was the one being used.
Well, that was Donovan’s problem. She wouldn’t waste her breath trying to explain her motives to him. For one thing, it was none of his business. For another, he would never believe her anyway, not if he already had his mind made up about her.
“How much farther is it to Bryan’s vacation house?” she asked.
“About another hour.”
She nodded and adjusted her seat belt, mentally preparing for another awkward hour. “Will Bryan be waiting for us there?”