Marooned With a Marine. Maureen Child

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СКАЧАТЬ that a hurricane would be perfect for teaching a survival course to the recruits.

      Still shaking his head, he switched on the radio as he turned out onto the road that would take him to the highway and inland. Music blasted into the closed cab of his brand-new black SUV. Four-wheel drive, horsepower to spare, the damn thing practically grunted in pride as it rolled down the street.

      “At least the traffic’s cleared up,” he muttered as he sped along the road, rooster tails of water flying up from beneath his wheels. Not many people were left around here, and at three-thirty in the morning, he had the road almost to himself.

      Alone.

      Well, perfect.

      Karen turned the key in the ignition again and listened with disgust to the tired click, click, click that she’d been listening to for half an hour now. Her engine had inexplicably died, and now the blasted thing sounded more like a broken clock than a car. And because she’d waited for traffic to clear, she was all alone on a dark road in the middle of nowhere with a hurricane hot on her heels.

      Life just didn’t get much better than this.

      She grabbed a chocolate and ate it as she let her gaze slide across the darkness surrounding her. Rain still pelted her car with big, fat drops that splattered on her windshield. The wind had picked up slightly, sending the trees along the side of the road into a wild dance that made them look like deranged cheerleaders. Her compact car shuddered as the wind buffeted it mercilessly. Karen’s fingers curled more tightly around the steering wheel as if by holding on, she could steady her poor car. A slender thread of fear began to worm its way through the pit of her stomach.

      What was she supposed to do? She’d already tried using the cell phone, but hadn’t been able to raise anyone. Not one of the few cars that had passed her in the last half hour had even slowed down, let alone stopped. All she could do was sit tight and hope that whatever was wrong with her car fixed itself. Soon.

      Oh, she should have taken auto shop instead of home ec in high school. When was the last time being able to make a casserole had saved her life?

      Something flashed in the corner of her eye and Karen shifted her gaze to the rearview mirror. There. Twin bright circles in the gloom. Headlights. Coming fast. Maybe this car would stop. And if it did, she really hoped her potential rescuer wouldn’t turn out to be a chivalrous serial killer.

      But at this point, she was willing to take her chances. Hurricane Henry was on its way and she was out of options.

      “Come on, come on,” she whispered, keeping her gaze glued to the mirror where those headlights shone like spots of hope in the shadows. And as she watched, the approaching car moved over and came up behind her. “Oh, thank heaven,” she whispered, and then said a quick prayer that she hadn’t been delivered from the proverbial frying pan into a fire.

      Still watching the rearview mirror, she saw the driver open his door, and in the flash of his dome light, saw that he was alone. So much for the faint hope that she would be rescued by a nice, normal family. “Doesn’t matter,” she told herself firmly. “Whoever it is, he’s my hero.”

      A second later, her hero was standing beside her door, rapping his knuckles against her closed window. Quickly, she rolled it down and squinted against the rain slashing at her face.

      “Well, why am I not surprised?” a too-familiar voice asked of no one in particular.

      Karen’s stomach fluttered. “Sam?”

      “The one and only,” he assured her, then bent down to peer in at her.

      Rain coursed down his windbreaker jacket, pooled on the brim of his baseball hat and dripped down on either side of his face. She looked into those pale brown eyes of his and knew that God had a sense of humor. Why else would She send the one man Karen had never wanted to see again as her rescuer?

      “What’re you doing just sitting here on the side of the road?” he demanded.

      Of all the stupid questions. Nervousness forgotten, she snapped, “It was such a nice night, I thought I’d park and admire it for a while.”

      “Real funny, Karen,” he said. “There’s a hurricane coming, in case you hadn’t heard.”

      “Well, duh.” She reached blindly for another chocolate and folded it into her closed fist, holding it like a talisman. “Look, do you have a CB or something in your truck? I tried using my phone to call for help, but it’s not working.”

      He shook his head and snorted. “Honey, even if it were working, there’s no one to call. If you’re lookin’ for help tonight, I’m it.”

      Her left shoulder and arm were getting soaked and she scooted farther to her right.

      Muttering something unintelligible, he took a deep breath, blew it out again and said, “Come on. We’ll get your stuff and you can come with me.”

      “Where to?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

      He laughed shortly. “Does that really matter at this point?”

      “I guess not,” she admitted, knowing full well and good this was her only option. She could refuse and sit here in her car waiting…hoping someone else would come along and stop. But what if no one did? What if his was the last car headed her way? What if she ended up right here, alone, in the middle of the hurricane?

      Nope.

      Even Sam Paretti was a better choice than that.

      “Give me your keys,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’ll get your stuff from the trunk.”

      Officious as always, she thought as she pulled them from the ignition and handed them to him. Then she turned to pick up her purse and thermos and sack of candy from the passenger seat. Rolling up the window again, she pulled the hood of her coat up over her head and stepped into the mouth of the building storm.

      The wind snatched her hood off instantly, and in seconds her hair hung lankly on either side of her face. Trails of bathwater-warm rain slipped beneath the collar of her shirt and rolled along her spine. Her jeans felt heavy and clammy against her legs as the water soaked into the denim fabric, and her tennis shoes squished in the mud and water flowing across the road like a dirty river.

      Here in the low country, it could take days for the water to run off the highway. Until then, every street became a lake, every highway a river and every field an ocean.

      Carefully, she leaned into the wind and slanting rain to make her way to the back of the car. She was in time to hear Sam mutter, “Females. How in the hell can they possibly need so much stuff?”

      “Pardon me for not being able to get along with nothing but a pocketknife and a snare,” she snapped.

      “You’re not going on vacation,” he said as he lifted both bags out at once. “This is an evacuation.”

      “So?” What did he expect? That she should uproot herself with nothing more than a paper sack containing a change of underwear?

      “Never mind,” he grumbled, shaking his head.

      He sloshed through the wet to his car and set her luggage in his trunk. Right behind СКАЧАТЬ