A Demon in Waiting (Crimson Romance) (3 page)

He lowered his head into the open passenger window and tried for a friendly rather than seductive smile.

She, other the other hand, was very obviously struggling to keep terror off her face. He didn’t blame her. She was smiling, but her lips twitched at the corners, and her amber brown eyes were a touch too round. For a moment, he felt guilty for what he’d done — for hypnotizing her in a way — and considered sending her off alone. Just a moment, though, because regardless of how he’d snared her, she was breathtaking and that was without a stitch of make-up.

It wasn’t that John was averse to cosmetics. He just hadn’t grown up around them. He was used to seeing women in their purest forms, but none of those women at the compound had looked like
her
.

“Where are you headed?” she asked, her sweet voice quavering a bit as her fingers hovered over the door lock switch.

“East,” he said simply.

“How far?”

“As far as you’ll take me.”

“I’m going to North Carolina. I think that might be too far.”

Didn’t matter. He only needed her for a couple of hours, but he’d play along. “Maybe not. I’ve got some construction work lined up if I can get out there. As far as you could take me would be just fine.”

He watched a lump travel down her throat and then there was the sound of the locks popping up. He pulled the door latch and hesitated as she cleared items from the seat and repositioned them in the center console. She waited until he was in, with his knapsack at his feet and seatbelt pulled across his lap, before speaking again.

“I’ll probably stop for the night in a few hours.” She eased onto the road.

He nodded and worked the switch to ease his seat back and give his long legs some room. He was tall. As a kid, he’d always towered over all the other children at the compound. As a man, that trend hadn’t changed.

“That’s a couple hundred miles of favors you’re doing me. I’m really grateful. Hard getting around without a driver’s license.”

Her forehead furrowed. “How do you live out here without having a driver’s license? I mean, you look like sixteen is a good ways behind you.”

He chuckled. Should he tell the truth, something resembling it, or a flat-out lie? He decided to hedge. “Well, I’m twenty-eight, so you’re right about that. I just never really needed to get a license. I grew up in a very isolated community and only recently left it.”

“Oh. Are you going back?”

“No. Technically I got kicked out.”

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

He grinned. “Not what you’re thinking, probably. Where I come from, the folks kinda have their own religion. They considered me extraneous, so they tried to put me out a couple of months ago.”

“What do you mean
tried to
?” She stole a look away from the road and crooked one dark brown eyebrow up at him.

He scratched the palm of his left hand and stared at the dusty road ahead. “My mother is still there. Will probably never leave, truth be told. Anyhow, she hid me away until I could make other plans. It’s hard not having a formal education. I was only homeschooled up until age thirteen. I don’t exactly have a certificate or anything like that.”

“Yikes. Does the government even know you exist?”

“Of course. I’ve got a social security number and birth certificate. The most valuable things I own, I guess.”

“Identity is important, so, I could see that.”

She seemed to relax a bit and the set of her lips became less tight, so he decided to keep her talking.

“So, what’s waiting for you in North Carolina?”

“That’s home for me. I moved west four years ago after college for an internship that turned into a job. I decided recently it was time to move on.”

“What do you do?”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and furrowed her brow again. “That’s hard to explain in simple terms. I always struggle with telling people about it. I’m an art director.”

He wasn’t familiar with the term, which wasn’t saying much. He hadn’t been in the world that long. It was his first day on the job, really. “What do art directors do?”

“Uh … in advertising our job is to design the look of a campaign or create new elements to match the existing one. Mostly I do a lot of work in Photoshop, laying out magazine and Internet ads. That kind of thing. Technical stuff.”

“Oh. And people go to school for that or is it a natural talent kinda thing?”

It may have been idle chit-chat, but the more she talked, the more he cared. He was interested not only in her, but in all the things in the world he’d been missing out on — and it was a
lot
. If he had only three hours to glean all the interesting tidbits from her he could, he’d make the most of it.

She sighed. “I did some schooling for design, but you kind of have to have an eye. Whether or not your eye is any good … ” She shrugged. “That’s subjective.”

“Maybe you’re done something I’ve seen?”

Her cheeks flushed — a charming reddening that crept down into the neck of her coral-colored tank top and made her look quite a bit younger than she likely was.

“Probably not. I was a junior art director, and I worked on the stuff that was sort of low priority. Other people did the big-money stuff.”

“Sounds kind of political.”

A scoff. “No kidding.” She patted the console with her right hand, feeling around for something and finally wrapped her fingers around her coffee cup.

“I could never get into coffee,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “It’s the only vice I have left.”

“It smells great, but I guess I haven’t had enough of it. We were supposed to abstain from habit-forming excesses, so by the time I got around to trying it I couldn’t get past the bitterness.”

“Oh!” She perked up a bit and this time when the flush returned to her cheeks it was from her renewed energy and not shame. “Well, the trick is adding enough sugar to sweeten it and giving it a hearty splash of half and half to cut the acid. It’s almost like a dessert that way, but I don’t even want to think of how many calories I’m drinking.” She made an
ugh
face.

“Don’t tell me you’re watching your weight.”

“Of course I am. The moment I stop watching it I end up with puffy cheeks, two chins, and a lard ass.”

“I don’t believe that.” He wasn’t just blowing smoke. She was definitely within the bounds of height-weight proportionate or even a bit thin. Nice curves, though. He’d noticed them when he passed behind her in the store. There was something to be said for a pair of fitted jeans and a clingy shirt. If the girls at the compound had dressed like that, he probably would have been turned out long before he was. The way a woman’s waist tapered and her body flared at the hips …

My god.

He adjusted the crotch of his jeans when she turned her gaze to the car passing them on the left.

“It’s true,” she said when she looked front once again. “I think I screwed up my metabolism. I used to be distance runner until I blew out my knee. Had sickeningly low body fat. I look back on the pictures now and wonder how I was able to hold my head on my neck. Then I went to college, started smoking and engaging in other bad habits, and my weight fluctuated a lot. I took up swimming and slimmed down a lot again, but couldn’t sustain it. Now, I get most of my exercise biking to work. Squeeze in a run when I can manage it.”

“You look great.”

She grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

That’s what I’m hoping.

“I’m Ariel, by the way.”

Ariel
. Perfect name for a woman with a sweet voice and the face of an angel, he thought. He held out a hand for her to shake briefly. “You can call me Hitch.”

Her grin widened. “Why do I get the feeling you spend a lot of time begging rides, Hitch?”

He rolled down his window and let his hand catch the wind just outside. He didn’t respond.

Ariel thought she’d drive a couple hours and stop for the night, but the company was good and conversation so stimulating, she hadn’t wanted it to end — to put Hitch out. However, her bladder made her see reason, and somewhere near Albuquerque she finally had to stop. She picked a mid-range hotel that promised cable and had a restaurant on the ground floor, knowing that once she checked in, she wouldn’t want to leave again until morning.

Hitch waited beside her car as she locked up then walked her to the lobby. “Thanks for the lift, Ariel,” he said, those bright blue eyes twinkling from the parking lot lights as he heaved his knapsack onto his shoulders.

She had that feeling in her gut again. The one that said
go back and fetch
, and she stood there, studying him while shifting her weight from foot to foot and willing her bladder to play nice. She didn’t want to be done with him yet, and knew it was unreasonable. He was a hitchhiker. If she had good common sense, she’d let him go on his way and she’d check into a room, lock her door, and deadbolt it.

“Why don’t you let me buy you dinner? As a thank-you.”

He raised both brows. “You thank
me
? For what?”

“For keeping me company. Awake. This road trip stuff really wears on a girl’s sanity, and I’ve still got two days to go.”

“That’s kind of you, but you should let me buy
you
dinner.” He cocked a crooked grin onto one cheek. “And a tank of gas.”

“No way. My new company is reimbursing me, so don’t think you’re putting me out.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

They stood there lingering for another moment and Ariel squeaked. “Uh. Why don’t you wait for me in the restaurant? Order me an iced tea? I’ll meet you there after I check in.”

He nodded and strode in. Ariel wasted a moment she really couldn’t spare watching the movement of his ass beneath his loose jeans. Then she got hold of herself and made a beeline for the bathroom with her rolling suitcase.

A bit later, bladder empty and room key in hand, she found Hitch in a booth, nursing a glass of water as he stared at the television mounted over the bar. He smiled as she sat and pulled his menu closer. “You’re going to have to help me out. I can’t say I have much experience with restaurants.”

“Oh!” She nestled her suitcase in the little alcove next to the booth and pulled out the seat across from Hitch. “I don’t tend to be all that adventurous when it comes to restaurants. Everything always sounds so great, but I stick to the basics mostly.”

“Maybe we can both step outside our comfort zones a bit.” His grin widened, eyes narrowed, and suddenly things down below in Ariel’s body clenched.

She wheezed and held her menu in front of her face. “Okay. Sounds good.”

When the waitress arrived, Hitch gave the woman a winning smile and that made her cheeks flush. “What’s the best thing on the menu … ” He narrowed her eyes at her left breast, ostensibly reading her nametag. “Ella?”

She giggled. “I like the chicken-fried steak. It’ll probably kill me one day, but that gravy is so good. Comes with mashed potatoes and whatever vegetable chef picked up today.”

Hitch tapped the top of Ariel’s menu. “That sounds good, huh?”

It did. She said as much.

The waitress walked off with their menus, humming to herself. Ariel turned her attention back to Hitch. “What would you have ordered if you didn’t have her help?”

He lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “Probably the chicken and dumplings.”

Ariel made a
blech
face.

“What? It’s great!”

“It’s not. I hate all that dough.”

“Ah. Yeah, I guess the occasional raw bit would turn you off. We didn’t have much choice but to add fillers to everything. Flour’s cheaper than chicken.”

“Wow.” She leaned back in her seat and laughed. “And I thought
I
was poor growing up.”

He leaned his elbows onto the tabletop and rested his chin atop his fists. “Oh yeah? Well, obviously there were a lot of kids at the compound. Barely got by and none of the ladies worked, you know.”

“It was just me and grandmother growing up. Things were tight because she was on a fixed budget and my parents never sent her anything.”

“Where were your parents?”

She felt her smile wilt and tried to replace it before he noticed, but couldn’t manage the feat. Instead, she gazed down at her utensil roll and studied the stitching on the napkin edges.

“I’m sorry, was that insensitive of me?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m just … ” When she dragged her gaze up to meet his, his expression had softened. It wasn’t exactly pitying, but there was a hint of apology in it. After sucking in some air, she continued. “People ask all the time, but answering doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know where my parents were —
are
. They were kinda losers, I guess. Dropped me off for a week one summer and never came back to get me. My grandmother thinks they committed some crime and fled to Mexico.”

His eyes widened a bit.

“Yeah.”

The waitress arrived with their food, bequeathed them with some extra napkins and bid them to enjoy their meal.

They ate in silence for a while, save for the occasional grunt of gastronomic pleasure, when suddenly Hitch dropped his fork and stared at his left palm. His brow furrowed as he scratched it.

“What’s wrong? Is it itchy? My grandmother used to tell me if you had itchy palms it meant money was coming your way.”

“I wish.” He chuckled as he slid out the booth. “Nah, I think it’s just a bit of a residual allergic reaction. I must have touched some detergent or something that didn’t agree with me. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh.” She watched him stand and stride toward the restrooms. When he disappeared beyond the doors, she allowed herself a little giggle.

He was a normal guy for a hitchhiker. Well, sort of. If he’d been solvent and not so damned transient, he might even be the kind of man she’d let take her out. She liked that he had a little something left to learn. Too many men knew too much about the wrong stuff and it gave them these sort of indefatigable god complexes that rendered them ridiculously selfish and excessively arrogant. She knew the type all too well working in advertising. Men like that were a dime a dozen.