that ever attractive. She took his hand, and the contact sparked. “Would you mind ordering? I want to freshen up.”
He nodded and followed her inside, where she fled to the filthy bathroom. The crust on the sink lost her attention when she caught sight of the dark welt under her eye. No wonder he’d freaked. She looked horrific.
Kris didn’t believe in fairy tales because his entire life already was one. She had to believe in them. Otherwise, how could she possibly hold out hope that life might be different than the tragedy she’d escaped?
They ate breakfast in silence, or rather, he ate and she picked at her sausage. The longer they didn’t talk, the tighter the tension stretched, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that watching him do anything with his hands set off a throb low in her belly.
“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked when he stood to collect trash from the table.
“Sure. It’s in the car.”
“Do you mind giving me some privacy?” She jerked her head in the direction of the Ferrari. “I have to let someone know I’m okay. I’ll just be a minute.”
Without a word, he slid his gorgeous body back into the molded chair with grace, which made not imagining those long, golden limbs wrapped around hers impossible.
“Let me know when it’s safe,” he said.
She bit back a snort. “You haven’t figured it out yet? You’ll never be safe from me.” Then she spun on a toe and flounced to the car, heart pounding in her throat as she elbowed through the throng of testosterone checking out Kris’s Ferrari.
She should be committed. Romance instruction. Where did she come up with these ideas? The best plan was to focus on getting to Dallas and then, the rest of her life. Kris had no place in the middle of that, even without the nebulous engagement. He was from Hollywood. She wasn’t.
His phone lay in the hollow between their seats. The seats.
Nothing in the car belonged to her except her bag. She had to remember that.
After three fumbles with the confusing little pictures crowding the screen of Kris’s phone, she figured out how to play a fishing game, use the timer and search for a restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard. Then she found the section that looked like numbers to dial an honest phone call. Rich people.
She shook her head as Pamela Sue said hello on her end.
“It’s me.”
“VJ. Thank God.” Pamela Sue heaved out a long sigh. “Your daddy’s been here twice, saying you’ve been gone since last night.”
The hot leather burned into her thighs as she shifted to find a more comfortable spot. “I’m okay. I’m on my way to Dallas.”
“Dallas? How’d you get to the bus station? No one’s been near Van Horn—”
“I’m with Kris.”
“ Kris? Kristian Demetrious? That Kris? Wait. Are you with Kris, or with Kris? Hold on, let me sit down.” Bedsprings squeaked in the background. “In case it’s better than I’m imagining.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” VJ hissed and darted a glance through the tinted window to make sure that Kris wasn’t strolling across the concrete toward the car. “It’s not like that. He’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time. He doesn’t have to pick up waitresses along the road.”
“Hey, you were Miss Little Crooked Creek a couple of times. You’re every bit as beautiful as they are,” Pamela Sue insisted. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
She smiled a little at the blind loyalty. Pamela Sue hadn’t seen her face and therefore didn’t realize VJ resembled a raccoon. “I love you, even when you’re lying.”
“Well, I hate you. A lot. How dare you ride off into the sunset with a sexy guy in a sexy car? I’ll never forgive you unless you have a smoking hot affair and spill every last detail.”
“Deal.” She sobered. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s a secret. The media, you know.”
She didn’t think Daddy would come after her all the way to Dallas, but it couldn’t hurt to take precautions.
“Oh,
He nodded and followed her inside, where she fled to the filthy bathroom. The crust on the sink lost her attention when she caught sight of the dark welt under her eye. No wonder he’d freaked. She looked horrific.
Kris didn’t believe in fairy tales because his entire life already was one. She had to believe in them. Otherwise, how could she possibly hold out hope that life might be different than the tragedy she’d escaped?
They ate breakfast in silence, or rather, he ate and she picked at her sausage. The longer they didn’t talk, the tighter the tension stretched, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that watching him do anything with his hands set off a throb low in her belly.
“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked when he stood to collect trash from the table.
“Sure. It’s in the car.”
“Do you mind giving me some privacy?” She jerked her head in the direction of the Ferrari. “I have to let someone know I’m okay. I’ll just be a minute.”
Without a word, he slid his gorgeous body back into the molded chair with grace, which made not imagining those long, golden limbs wrapped around hers impossible.
“Let me know when it’s safe,” he said.
She bit back a snort. “You haven’t figured it out yet? You’ll never be safe from me.” Then she spun on a toe and flounced to the car, heart pounding in her throat as she elbowed through the throng of testosterone checking out Kris’s Ferrari.
She should be committed. Romance instruction. Where did she come up with these ideas? The best plan was to focus on getting to Dallas and then, the rest of her life. Kris had no place in the middle of that, even without the nebulous engagement. He was from Hollywood. She wasn’t.
His phone lay in the hollow between their seats. The seats.
Nothing in the car belonged to her except her bag. She had to remember that.
After three fumbles with the confusing little pictures crowding the screen of Kris’s phone, she figured out how to play a fishing game, use the timer and search for a restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard. Then she found the section that looked like numbers to dial an honest phone call. Rich people.
She shook her head as Pamela Sue said hello on her end.
“It’s me.”
“VJ. Thank God.” Pamela Sue heaved out a long sigh. “Your daddy’s been here twice, saying you’ve been gone since last night.”
The hot leather burned into her thighs as she shifted to find a more comfortable spot. “I’m okay. I’m on my way to Dallas.”
“Dallas? How’d you get to the bus station? No one’s been near Van Horn—”
“I’m with Kris.”
“ Kris? Kristian Demetrious? That Kris? Wait. Are you with Kris, or with Kris? Hold on, let me sit down.” Bedsprings squeaked in the background. “In case it’s better than I’m imagining.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” VJ hissed and darted a glance through the tinted window to make sure that Kris wasn’t strolling across the concrete toward the car. “It’s not like that. He’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time. He doesn’t have to pick up waitresses along the road.”
“Hey, you were Miss Little Crooked Creek a couple of times. You’re every bit as beautiful as they are,” Pamela Sue insisted. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
She smiled a little at the blind loyalty. Pamela Sue hadn’t seen her face and therefore didn’t realize VJ resembled a raccoon. “I love you, even when you’re lying.”
“Well, I hate you. A lot. How dare you ride off into the sunset with a sexy guy in a sexy car? I’ll never forgive you unless you have a smoking hot affair and spill every last detail.”
“Deal.” She sobered. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s a secret. The media, you know.”
She didn’t think Daddy would come after her all the way to Dallas, but it couldn’t hurt to take precautions.
“Oh,
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