Every Girl's Secret Fantasy by Robyn Grady Page B

road before a semi or a family in a sedan come up over that hill.”
    Feeling as if she were standing on a slanting deck in the middle of a storm, she threw a glance at the empty seat beside her. When he nudged her arm, forcing her mind and shaky limbs into action, she shuffled over the gearstick. Pace leapt in and, with precision movements, swung the car around and parked it on the road’s shoulder.
    He flung an arm over the back of the passenger headrest. His face was as dark as hers felt pale. When his warm firm palm cupped the back of her head and he urged her head gently more towards him her chest exploded with a tempest of emotion.
    Relief. Infinite gratitude. They hadn’t hit. They weren’t injured, or worse. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and never let go.
    His concentrated gaze swept over her, top to toe. “Are you all right?”
    Her body had been invaded by the shakes. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, and if she tried to speak her teeth might very well chatter. She’d never been in a car accident before, but her mother had. The worst kind.
    The worst outcome.
    Her lungs begging for air, Phoebe sucked in a breath, but she couldn’t catch the tear trailing down her cheek. Pace leaned over and, holding her close, rubbed her back.
    â€œIt’s okay,” he murmured against her ear, stroking her hair as a growling truck hurtled past and the car vibrated. “You’re okay now.”
    She focused her every fibre on his warmth and his strength. She felt Tyler’s Stream so close now. The memories…good and bad. She’d grown up in a nice home, with plenty to eat and plenty of love. Yes, she was okay. More than okay.
    But what would have become of her without Aunt Meg?
    Â 
    An hour later Pace steered the Aston Martin up a pair of shallow ruts that led to a remote, quaint-looking house in the small town of Tyler’s Stream…the place Phoebe had at one time called home. The clouds had dispersed again, and a tranquil sun was arcing towards the west.
    She’d remained quiet the rest of the journey here. Pace had been rather subdued too.
    That spinout would have tamped down anyone’s mood, but the car hadn’t been damaged and no one had been hurt—thank God. She’d never forget the harrowingfeeling when she’d thought they were seconds from colliding with that gigantic roo. It was as if every iota of energy had been sucked from her heart down her legs and out through her toes. Neither would she forget how Pace had held and comforted her afterwards.
    She’d been too shaken to feel silly or weak. She’d accepted his reassurance gladly, and was grateful he hadn’t let her go until he’d known she was ready. It was odd to think of the turns their relationship had taken since five p.m. yesterday afternoon. She’d seen another side to her heart-throb bad boy and she liked it. A lot.
    For the past hour Hannie had enjoyed the cool rush of wind on his face from the back seat. There hadn’t been one peep out of him the entire time—even after the incident. But now the engine was barely cut before her little dog jumped out, yapping as he raced to the cottage’s front door. Once there, he sat still as any statue, waiting for his mistress to unlock it and let him in.
    Chuckling, Pace opened the passenger door. “Does he usually get so wound up about his visits to the country?”
    â€œSure,” Phoebe replied, slipping out of the passenger side. “It’s nice…to visit.”
    Moving forward, Phoebe took in the scene, and an odd, hazy sense of the past returned. The place looked the same. Felt the same. A haven as well as a sentence. Pristine lace curtains hung neatly in every window. The front door was lacquered that same deep red. The walls might have been whitewashed only yesterday.
    Either side of the flagstone path pink and violet wildflowers were fading on the dragging heels of summer.