“You’ll recover,” Blake predicted confidently. “You’ll go into an interview with your chin high and convince the next employer that you know what you’re doing and you don’t let anyone steer you wrong. What you did took guts and integrity, and you’ll find someone who recognizes your strength.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced, but Blake had no doubt that he was right. Tara was too smart, too talented, too capable to stay down for long.
“I have no doubt that you can do anything you want to do, Tara McBride. The only question you should ask yourself is what do you really want to do?”
It had been so long since Tara had asked herself that question that she didn’t even know how to begin to figure out the answer. All her life, it seemed, she had done what everyone else wanted her to do.
Be a good girl, Tara. Study hard, Tara. Go to Harvard, Tara. Be a lawyer, Tara.
Go away, Ms. McBride.
She thought of that childish letter she’d written to herself and buried in a makeshift time capsule. A letter filled with other people’s dreams, other people’s ambitions for her. And she realized she was no closer to knowing what she truly wanted now than she had been at fourteen.
Blake seemed to understand that she needed some time to think about what he’d said. So he changed the subject back to their more immediate problem. “How many people do you suppose have tried to call you at your apartment since we left yesterday?”
She bit her lip before answering. “Very few, if any,” she said after a moment. “My family thinks I’m out of town. My friends think I’m in Honoria. I wasn’t expecting anyone to call.”
“I’d like to call your place again,” Blake mused, frowning at the telephone. “Just to see who answers, if anyone. But I don’t want to be traced here, the way we were in Marietta. Will your phone accept calls if I dial in anonymously?”
She shook her head, feeling as if she should apologize. “I’ve had all anonymous calls blocked. My number’s unlisted, but I’ve still been careful.”
“Good idea. Usually,” he added with a slight smile. “So if I disconnect the caller-ID feature on this phone, I’ll get what?”
“A recorded message instructing you to disconnect the privacy feature and call again.”
“That option is out, then.”
“Don’t you have a cell phone? We couldn’t be traced through that, could we?”
“Depends on who we’re dealing with. But I might risk it, anyway...if I hadn’t left my cell phone in the sports car in Marietta. It’s probably in a policecompound lot right now. Talk about stupid mistakes...”
He shook his head in self-castigation, then glanced at his watch. Tara automatically did the same, noting that it was almost 2:00 p.m. Another clap of thunder rattled the windows, and the rain pounded the pavement outside the little room. Tara heard no other noises outside. She was suddenly very aware again of being alone with Blake inside this cozy motel room.
She cleared her throat, and slid casually to the edge of her bed, planting both feet firmly on the floor. “I wish there was something we could do to make the time pass faster,” she murmured, her sudden attack of self-consciousness making her speak before thinking.
Blake immediately got that mischievous look in his eyes that she was beginning to recognize. He moved to the end of the other bed and tested the mattress with his hand. And then he looked at her in a way that set her pulse racing. “I’m sure I can come up with an idea or two,” he murmured.
She could probably come up with a few, herself, for that matter. But that didn’t mean she was going to follow through on them. She was already in enough trouble without tumbling into bed with Blake Whateverhis-name-was!
She gave him a repressive look. “We could watch television.”
“I had something a bit more interesting in mind,” he said with exaggerated regret.
She struggled against a sudden smile. Darn it, why did he have to be so gorgeous and charming. He made it really hard for her to keep her head straight where he was concerned. “Behave yourself.”
Looking rather pleased with himself, Blake picked up the television remote. “I’ll try,” he murmured and tuned in to a soap opera, then settled back to watch it.
Tara wasn’t able to lose herself in the daytime drama. She had too many problems of her own to be interested in the fictional imbroglios unfolding on the tiny screen. Not the least of them, her heart-fluttering, decidedly unwise reactions to the man sitting on the other bed.
6
TARA DIDN’T remember falling asleep. But she woke curled in the middle of the bed, only to find herself alone in the little motel room. A quick glance at her watch told her that she must have slept for a couple of hours. She parted the curtain an inch to look outside.
Even through the heavy sheets of rain, she could see that the black pickup truck was gone. Blake had left her here alone.
Tara almost gave in to a moment of sharp, instinctive panic. How could Blake have left her stranded this way?
And then her common sense slowly overcame the fear.