Stop The Wedding!: Night Driving / Smooth Sailing / Crash Landing. Lori Wilde
when? She gets on your last nerve.
Yeah? Well that was before the trip and before he really got to know her. He swallowed his inexplicable need to kiss her again. A craving to taste those luscious lips.
This was bad news. The way she made him feel. He’d already begun projecting into the future, picturing what life would be like without her. No impromptu visits. No surprise casseroles. No funny stories or jokes. Doing something nice for her would simply make it that much harder to let go. It was better for him to keep his distance. He’d just pay a couple of hundred extra dollars. Money ought to do the trick. There was no need for him to do anything personal for her.
“You wanna go to Shiloh?” he blurted impulsively.
She blinked at him. “What?”
“You want to go watch the opening salvos? The battle starts at dawn, right?”
Pure excitement flared in her eyes. “You mean it?”
“We are this close. It would be a shame to miss it. Especially since you have a family connection.”
“But what about getting to Key West in time to stop your sister’s wedding?”
“It’s a sixteen-hour drive from Nashville to Miami give or take. Throw in another two hours for the detour to Shiloh and two more to watch the beginning of the battle. That’s twenty hours. Still time to make it to Key West by Saturday afternoon.”
“Really?” She jumped up and down, a ball of exuberant energy. He’d put that expression on her face.
Boone was…well, hell…he was happy that he’d made her happy. “Sure. Why not?”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight. “I’m never, ever going to forget this. You’re absolutely awesome.”
“Which means we need to get a move on,” he said, alarmed by how good it felt to be clutched in her enthusiastic embrace. “Now.”
“Yes. Right. Let’s go.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him headlong toward the car.
Great. Now you’ve done it. You’ve bonded. You’re bonding with her. You, Toliver, are sunk.
THEY REACHED THE Shiloh National Military Park just before midnight, but after an hour of checking out the local motels, they were alarmed to discover that there were no vacancies to be had. Tara hadn’t even considered that.
“We can sleep in the car,” Boone said, with an amazing amount of patience.
“But your leg. You need a bed to stretch out in. Maybe we could drive back to the last town and see if they have any vacancies there.”
“The battle starts at dawn. It wouldn’t be worth the drive back and forth for just a couple of hours’ sleep. We’ll be fine in the car. I can put the seat back as far as it will go.”
Tara nibbled her bottom lip. She felt terrible about the motel situation. “Boone—”
“Stop over-thinking it.” He yawned. “Just pull into a parking lot and let’s get some shut-eye. Compared to what those Civil War soldiers went through, cramped quarters in a Honda is a luxury.”
“At least take a pain pill.”
When he didn’t argue but pawed the pill bottle from his pocket and swallowed two with the watered-down drink left over from their previous stop, she knew he must really be hurting.
She drove into the empty parking lot of a nearby mall, and by the time she killed the engine Boone appeared to be fast asleep, his fingers interlaced, hands resting on his chest.
Hyped up about the Shiloh battlefield reenactment, it took Tara several minutes to settle down. She put her seat back and squirmed around trying to get comfortable.
She lay on her right side, hands stacked under her head, watching Boone sleep. God, he was devastatingly handsome, even when he was asleep, maybe especially when he was asleep, because there was a vulnerable air to him now that he fought hard to keep at bay when he was awake.
Her heart thumped loudly and she had no idea why. She wished she could build a wall around herself the way he did, hold her silly infatuation at bay. Why did she have to fling herself headlong into everything? Including falling for the big lug?
Tara pulled in a sigh. What was it about him that had her heart tripping all over itself?
Maybe it was the inner gentleness he tried so hard to cover up, but couldn’t quite hide. Or maybe it was the way his hot eyes made her body heat up every time he looked at her, as if he’d never noticed another woman before.
A frisson of pleasure passed through her at the thought. That very well could be it.
For the longest time, she lay there, happy for a time simply watching over him. He deserved someone to look after him. He hadn’t had nearly enough of it.
She must have dozed off, because some time later something stirred her.
A throaty moan came from the other side of the car.
Boone! Something was wrong.
She jerked wide-awake and rammed her hip into the steering wheel. Ouch! She blinked, forgetting for a second where she was, her muscles cramped and achy.
“Get down!” Boone shouted.
Distressed, she ducked her head. Get down? What was happening? She shot a glance at the man beside her. He thrashed around in the seat, his eyes closed. “Stay back. There’s a bomb!”
Tara sat up, gnawed her bottom lip. He was having a nightmare. A lump swelled in her throat. Poor guy, the horrors of the past that he hid so well while awake overcame him in slumber. His inner battle reached deep inside her, touched her soul and broke her heart.
She didn’t know what to do. Should she try to rouse him? She’d heard somewhere that you shouldn’t startle soldiers when they were sleeping.
“Boone,” she whispered.
“No safe place,” he mumbled, grunted and then winced.
Did he have post-traumatic stress disorder? It would explain a lot about him. Why he kept to himself and put up emotional barriers.
It took everything that she had in her not to touch him. “It’s okay. You’re not overseas. You’re here, safe with me.”
He shook his head. “No, no.”
“Shh. Shh.”
His eyes moved behind closed lids, the rapid action of dream sleep. “Tara?” he whispered hoarsely.
“Yes, I’m right here.”
“Pretty Tara.” His tone turned dreamy and he reached out a directionless hand, slowly pawing the air as if he were stroking her.
Oh, wow. What now?
Unexpected tingles spread throughout her body. It moved her to see him so vulnerable. It might be dangerous to wake a sleeping soldier, but she didn’t feel comfortable eavesdropping on his dream apparently when he appeared to be dreaming about her now. “Boo—”
“So pretty.” His hand made contact with her hair, his fingers slid through it.
His touch sent her pulse reeling. “Ah, Boone.”
“I want you, Tara. I want you so bad.” His eyes were opened now, but his gaze looked dazed. Was he awake or still sleeping?
Her breath slipped shallowly through her parted lips. His hand moved to cup her cheek and he slowly sat up.
“Are you awake?” she murmured.
Instead of answering, his mouth caught hers in a demanding kiss. Every muscle in her body weakened even as she willed herself not to respond. This wasn’t right. Not under these circumstances. But the things he