Detour Ahead. Cindi Myers

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      MARLEE was up early Saturday morning, stashing the last few necessities in her suitcase and keeping watch out the front window for her ride. She paced the living-room floor, stopping from time to time to stretch or to fetch some last-minute item to stow in her bags. Anything to burn off the nervous energy humming through her. She couldn’t wait to see Susan. And to meet Bryan’s friend, Craig.

      He was probably a lot nicer guy than he’d sounded on the phone. After all, how much could you really tell from a few minutes’ conversation and a single e-mail?

      They’d have plenty of time to get to know each other on this trip. She’d probably spend more time with Craig Brinkman in the next week than she had with the last four or five guys she’d dated. Men seemed to prefer her as a friend instead of a girlfriend.

      Fine. She’d settle for a friendly relationship with the man who was providing a way for her to get to Susan’s wedding. A girl couldn’t have too many friends, could she?

      A sleek black sedan turned the corner and she pulled back the curtains for a better look. A Beemer. Very up-and-coming professional looking. Not very imaginative, but it definitely looked better than a Greyhound bus, so she wasn’t complaining. The car parked at the curb and a tall, dark-haired man unfolded from the front seat. She let out a low whistle. Very, very nice. He wore loose-fitting jeans, a polo shirt that showed off broad shoulders and muscular forearms and dark sunglasses that added a hint of mystery. Why hadn’t Susan mentioned her chauffeur was so easy on the eyes?

      He slammed the car door shut and headed up the walk toward the main house. Marlee’s shoulders slumped. Oh. So maybe this wasn’t the right guy after all. She picked up the oversize tote bag she’d stashed next to her suitcase and inventoried the contents once more. Should she take another bottle of water? More sunscreen?

      She was in the bathroom searching for another tube of sunscreen when the doorbell rang. She checked the peephole and found Mr. Gorgeous himself on her front porch. She hurried to unfasten the multiple locks and chains. “Hello,” she said. “You must be Craig. I’m Marlee.”

      He nodded. “You didn’t tell me you were in the carriage house.”

      Ouch! Was that any way to start their trip? She purposely flashed her biggest smile. “I didn’t? Sorry about that. The main house is 112A. I’m in 112B, but quite a few people get the addresses mixed up.” See? It’s all your fault you went to the wrong door first. She held the door wide. “Won’t you come in? Can I get you a glass of water or a soda?”

      “No thanks.” Sunglasses still hiding his eyes, he stepped into the living room and looked around. She wondered what he was thinking. She’d decorated the place herself, in what one friend had dubbed “eclectic kitsch.” A row of brightly colored papier-mâché cats from Guatemala lined the mantel over the small gas fireplace, a fuchsia shawl from India was draped over her Salvation Army sofa and a chipped marble garden bench served as her coffee table, while an inflatable palm tree left over from a photo shoot took the place of any living plants.

      He frowned at the palm tree. “Are you ready to go?”

      “Yes. My luggage is right over here.” She started toward the bags she’d stashed to the left of the door.

      He shook his head.

      She looked at him. “What?”

      “I should have known a woman would pack half her closet for just a few days.”

      The words set her teeth on edge. She faced him, hands on her hips. “We’ll be gone over a week. Besides, that’s not half my closet. Not even close.” One of the best features of the carriage house was a huge walk-in closet. She’d filled the space with clothes to suit her every mood, all bought at bargain prices at the city’s best thrift and vintage clothing stores.

      He frowned down at her luggage. “Three bags?”

      Honestly. Just because a man could get by with one suit, two shirts and pair of jeans didn’t mean a woman could! “The big suitcase is clothes and shoes. The small tote is makeup and hair accessories. The larger tote has my laptop, books, snacks and emergency supplies.”

      “Emergency supplies?”

      “Band-Aids, aspirin, sunscreen, stain remover and, uh, other things.” She didn’t mention the condoms she’d added at the last minute. Not that she was planning anything, but you never knew….

      He picked up the suitcase and the larger tote. She locked the door behind her, then followed him to his car. “Thank you for giving me a ride,” she said, determined to start off on the right foot with him, despite his less than pleasant demeanor. He was Bryan’s friend. She was Susan’s friend. There was no reason they shouldn’t get along. “Just let me know how much my share of expenses comes to.”

      “I’ll do that.” He stashed her totebag in the back seat, then turned and handed her a CD case and a sheaf of computer print-outs. “Your job is to keep the tunes spinning, read this itinerary and schedule I’ve printed out, and keep quiet.”

      She stared at him. So much for thinking they could be friends. The guy was a jerk. “You obviously have the wrong impression of me,” she said, barely suppressing the urge to rip his head off.

      “What do you mean?”

      She reached up and removed his sunglasses. He blinked at her. “Hey—”

      “I like to look people in the eye when I talk to them,” she said. “Let’s get this straight. I am not some child or some servant for you to order around or patronize.”

      Without the sunglasses, he looked less forbidding, though he was still frowning. “I’m going out of my way here to do you a favor.”

      “And I’m doing you one.”

      “How’s that?”

      “I’m keeping you company and paying half the expenses.”

      “I didn’t ask for company.”

      “No? You agreed to do this, didn’t you? You could have said no.”

      They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. He had eyes the color of toffee, a rich brown with golden flecks. The kind of eyes that could make a woman forget what she’d been arguing about….

      He was the first to look away. “You’re right. I СКАЧАТЬ