Hands On. Debbi Rawlins
lucky to find the place by dark. “Obviously you don’t know a map from a grocery list.”
“That was a very sexist remark.”
“What? Men don’t shop?”
Cassie picked up her water bottle and uncapped it. “You can’t blame this on me. I wanted to stop at that gas station five miles back to ask for directions. But nooo…you don’t need to ask for help. You know exactly where you’re going. Ha!”
She tipped the bottle up to her lips, tempting him to slam on the brakes and watch her get drenched. If she was practicing her role as a wife, she was doing a damn fine job. She hadn’t stopped annoying him since they’d left Midland two hours ago.
“Do you want some water?”
He looked over at her. Damn, but she had pretty eyes. “Is that a trick question?”
Her sandy-colored brows dipped in a confused frown.
He was pretty sure she was a natural blonde. He was good at knowing that kind of stuff. “Why are you suddenly being so nice?”
Her confusion turned to surprise. “Suddenly being nice? I’ve been nothing but gracious and patient.”
He laughed.
“I’m serious.”
“You’ve criticized my driving. Steered us in the wrong direction twice. Took too friggin’ long at the convenience store just to irritate me—”
“Right. Everything I do is about you. You have saturated my thoughts. Taking too long in the store had nothing to do with the cash register jamming. It was all part of my master plan to irritate you.”
“And you talk too much. I don’t need a dissertation.”
“Screw you. Is that succinct enough?”
He smiled. “When?”
“That is so juvenile. I haven’t heard that comeback since junior high.”
“When was that? Last year?”
“Gee, another original.”
He shook his head with disgust. God help the man who ended up marrying her.
“Now, would you like some water, or not?” She reached into the small cooler she’d brought and got out another bottle of water.
“Yeah, I’ll have some.”
She surprised him by uncapping it before she handed the bottle to him. “You’re welcome.”
“Jeez, give me a chance. I was gonna say thanks.”
“Oh, wait.” She waved a hand excitedly, and he jammed on the brakes. “You’re missing the turn again.”
“What the hell are you doing? Don’t yell like that.” He took his foot off the brakes. “I thought I was about to hit something.”
“I didn’t yell.”
No way was he going to respond. She was a nut, three French fries short of a Happy Meal. “By the way, I didn’t miss the turn the first time. You forgot to tell me to turn, if you recall.”
“But you knew where you were going, remember? You didn’t need to ask directions.”
He glanced over at her just as she folded her arms across her chest. She had on another one of those scooped neck T-shirts like she wore the other day, only this one was a peach color that matched her jeans.
With her arms crossed as they were, the tops of her breasts plumped up above her neckline. She didn’t have a really big chest, but she was nicely rounded and perky. Just enough to make him crazy.
He forced his attention back to the road where it belonged, but then after a couple of seconds took one more look.
Cassie made a prissy sound. “What are you looking at?”
“I was thinking…maybe we ought to pull over and neck for a while.”
Her lips parted in disbelief and she shifted closer to her door.
“You know, just to get used to each other so we’ll be convincing once we get there.”
“Are you insane?”
He smiled. “Come on. Admit it. You want me.”
“How often does the government give their employees psychological tests?”
He laughed and then took a sip of water.
“You are one sick puppy.” She relieved him of the bottle.
He saw a sign for Bedrock and got serious. “We should be there in about twenty minutes. Let’s review our story.”
She nodded. “We’ve been married for only six months after meeting on a Caribbean cruise.”
“That was good thinking on the short time span for knowing each other. That’ll give us some leeway in case we botch our stories.”
Her lips curved in a pleased smile. “And thank you for thinking about the luggage. I’ll keep it in as good condition as possible.”
“No problem. It’s yours to keep for your help.”
“But it’s so expensive. I can’t keep it. No way.”
Dalton slid her a surprised glance. She meant it. She was willing to return a no-strings-attached gift. “Let’s get back to our story. I’m from Chicago, went off to Princeton and stayed in the East for a while, got married, divorced…we met on the cruise and after we got married I moved back to Texas at your insistence.”
She laughed. “At my insistence, huh?”
“You’re the one who’s from here. Why else would a born and bred Chicago boy move to Texas?”
She gave him a dry look. “You don’t have any sort of accent. Maybe we should say you’re from Dallas.”
“Better to stick as close to the truth as possible. That way we won’t get tripped up.”
“I suppose…”
“Why would it be important that I’m from Dallas?”
“You did say that I’d probably get the most grilling from the others, and I agree. Women talk about that kind of stuff, and men usually don’t. So since I would never marry someone from Chicago I’m just trying to customize the situation to what’s comfortable.”
He frowned. Surely he’d heard wrong. “You would never marry anyone from Chicago?”
“That’s right.”
“Dare I ask why?”
She straightened and pointed. “There’s our turn.”
He saw the Back to Basics sign just in time to steer the rented Jag down the long winding drive. “You have your story straight?”
“Like you said, I’m sticking to the truth, mostly anyway. I lived in Midland until I went to college. I graduated from Texas A&M two years ago with a degree in psychology. I’ve had a few different jobs, nothing substantial. I was still finding myself when I met you.”
He wondered which was the mostly true part. Was she still trying to find herself? He knew so little about her. Although he’d had one of his buddies back at the bureau pull a profile on her, he’d carefully stuck to general information, only asking about anything that pertained to the case and her ability to contribute.
About a quarter mile down the drive, a stately white mansion sprung up out of nowhere. Made sense that it was a home Bask had rented and called a resort. Easy to get out and hit the road when the time came.
“Are we in the right place?” Cassie squinted at the three-story house. “That looks more like a southern plantation home, certainly a private residence.”