CRASH INTO MY HEART
Adrian ground his teeth , irritated he ’d had to cancel his weekend plans on his boat to rush up to the high desert to fix problems his VP should have handled. On top of that annoyance, t he 405 had been a parking lot. Now he was stuck driving below the speed limit on a winding road , held up behind some old biddy in a Volvo . He’d hoped to be on his way back to LA by now. He noted the position of the sun slipping down beyond the hills, casting the canyon into shadowed dips and curves.
“Finally!” he muttered as the road straightened. H e floored his Alpha Romeo 8C coupe to pass the clueless driver . He slowed briefly to throw her a dark look for failing to pull over during several opportunities in the p ast five miles . He did a d ouble take as he realized the woman didn’t have gray hair as he’d thought ; she had silvery blonde hair. She turned to scowl back at him. And h uge , smoky blue eyes fogged the world as he knew it. His anger evaporated, replaced by something quite different.
H e crested the next hill, glancing back through his rear view mirror .
All he saw was dust. What the hell? There’d been no turn off, and he hadn’t been d riving fast enough to lose her—yet.
T he image of that unexpected dust kept intruding on his efforts to think instead about what he needed to say to his VP . Had she crashed? He hadn’t come anywhere close to running her off road , he thought, mulishly . He eased off the gas. He shifted , letting the car slow to a crawl. The car w hined like an unhappy cat. N o Volvo appeared behind him.
Damn ! His work obligations warred with his conscience. He should see his VP tonight. It couldn’t wait. Well, it could wai t . The sun had dropped behind the hills leaving the canyon awash in grey shadows. It would be dark soon. He checked his phone. No signal . What would his mother say?
He whipped around , squealing his car’s tires .
***
Okay. The important thing was that she was alive , Janice told herself shakily as she struggled from behind the inflated airbag. S he swung open the driver’s door, which wedged itself into the dirt , giving her a too narrow escape route . She gave the door a tug back to loosen it . It didn’t budge. Good thing she was skinny. She slid out sideways , feeling stunned , wiping blood from w hat she hoped was a simple nose bleed. She t entatively tapped her nose. W hile it hurt like a son of a bitch , it seem ed unbroken .
When her front passenger tire blew , she’d been cast off the road into the ditch. It’d taken all her strength to keep the car from rolling . She’d survived a bumpy ride through the shrubby , slanted terrain , landing abruptly on a giant rock . She sent a prayer up to the universe, grateful the boys were already on a plane headed to Denver.
She stared at her totaled car . Her beautiful car. The one luxury she allowed herself. Smashed. She reached back into the car and pulled out her purse, sitting on the seat as though nothing had happened. She dug out her cell phone. No signal. She looked up and down the road and saw no one . Certainly not that obnoxious , if totally gorgeous, driver of the James Bond car that had ridden her ass the last fi ve miles. Asshole .
The road was desolate. Cutting through the back canyons between Los Angeles and the high desert, the route was traveled predominantly by lo cals . At this late hour on a Friday evening , it might be another hour before anyone passed.
I f she walked to the top of the pass, she might get a signal . She surveyed her outfit. The light strapless sundress and her high- he eled sandals were perfect for lunch with the girls , rotten for hiking a canyon road. She crawled back into the car and unearthed a sweater from under the boys’ discarded backpack , and slipped into it .
Just as she was sliding out of the car again, she heard the sound of a large engine purr ing towards her. She looked up at the road and saw the top of the
Adrian ground his teeth , irritated he ’d had to cancel his weekend plans on his boat to rush up to the high desert to fix problems his VP should have handled. On top of that annoyance, t he 405 had been a parking lot. Now he was stuck driving below the speed limit on a winding road , held up behind some old biddy in a Volvo . He’d hoped to be on his way back to LA by now. He noted the position of the sun slipping down beyond the hills, casting the canyon into shadowed dips and curves.
“Finally!” he muttered as the road straightened. H e floored his Alpha Romeo 8C coupe to pass the clueless driver . He slowed briefly to throw her a dark look for failing to pull over during several opportunities in the p ast five miles . He did a d ouble take as he realized the woman didn’t have gray hair as he’d thought ; she had silvery blonde hair. She turned to scowl back at him. And h uge , smoky blue eyes fogged the world as he knew it. His anger evaporated, replaced by something quite different.
H e crested the next hill, glancing back through his rear view mirror .
All he saw was dust. What the hell? There’d been no turn off, and he hadn’t been d riving fast enough to lose her—yet.
T he image of that unexpected dust kept intruding on his efforts to think instead about what he needed to say to his VP . Had she crashed? He hadn’t come anywhere close to running her off road , he thought, mulishly . He eased off the gas. He shifted , letting the car slow to a crawl. The car w hined like an unhappy cat. N o Volvo appeared behind him.
Damn ! His work obligations warred with his conscience. He should see his VP tonight. It couldn’t wait. Well, it could wai t . The sun had dropped behind the hills leaving the canyon awash in grey shadows. It would be dark soon. He checked his phone. No signal . What would his mother say?
He whipped around , squealing his car’s tires .
***
Okay. The important thing was that she was alive , Janice told herself shakily as she struggled from behind the inflated airbag. S he swung open the driver’s door, which wedged itself into the dirt , giving her a too narrow escape route . She gave the door a tug back to loosen it . It didn’t budge. Good thing she was skinny. She slid out sideways , feeling stunned , wiping blood from w hat she hoped was a simple nose bleed. She t entatively tapped her nose. W hile it hurt like a son of a bitch , it seem ed unbroken .
When her front passenger tire blew , she’d been cast off the road into the ditch. It’d taken all her strength to keep the car from rolling . She’d survived a bumpy ride through the shrubby , slanted terrain , landing abruptly on a giant rock . She sent a prayer up to the universe, grateful the boys were already on a plane headed to Denver.
She stared at her totaled car . Her beautiful car. The one luxury she allowed herself. Smashed. She reached back into the car and pulled out her purse, sitting on the seat as though nothing had happened. She dug out her cell phone. No signal. She looked up and down the road and saw no one . Certainly not that obnoxious , if totally gorgeous, driver of the James Bond car that had ridden her ass the last fi ve miles. Asshole .
The road was desolate. Cutting through the back canyons between Los Angeles and the high desert, the route was traveled predominantly by lo cals . At this late hour on a Friday evening , it might be another hour before anyone passed.
I f she walked to the top of the pass, she might get a signal . She surveyed her outfit. The light strapless sundress and her high- he eled sandals were perfect for lunch with the girls , rotten for hiking a canyon road. She crawled back into the car and unearthed a sweater from under the boys’ discarded backpack , and slipped into it .
Just as she was sliding out of the car again, she heard the sound of a large engine purr ing towards her. She looked up at the road and saw the top of the
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