Cursing himself for being such a clutz he began to pull over onto the soft shoulder. The Land Rover was pulling over, too. He groaned. Just what he needed. A rear-ending as a fitting close to his journey of almost twenty-four hours. He’d learned his lesson – no more pretending to be Superman on these long trips.
Stone grabbed his wallet off the front passenger’s seat and slid out of the car. Reaching up to massage the back of his neck he stifled another yawn. God, he was tired. He blinked to clear the gravel from his eyes then walked over to meet the guy who was climbing out of the Land Rover.
A quick glance told Stone his Maserati hadn’t suffered a scratch. The other vehicle was another matter. It now sported a smashed-in back bumper. He steeled himself for the swearing. This was going to be one pissed-off dude.
The other driver was coming toward him now, a slender kid of medium height with short black hair that glistened in the sun. Plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves, jeans and Timberland boots, he must have been coming from work. Sorry to spoil the end of your work day, kid.
Stone glanced down and began digging his driver’s license out of his wallet. When he looked up again the kid was standing right in front of him, green eyes flashing, soft pink lips set in an angry pout.
Huh? Stone's gaze dropped to the plaid-covered chest and there, pert and pointing straight at him, was his confirmation. The dude was a girl.
“Hey, what’s up with you, fella? Falling asleep at the wheel?”
Stone frowned. Kind of aggressive, wasn’t she? It was when she got closer that he saw that she wasn’t so much a girl as she was a woman, probably in her late twenties, maybe about four or five years younger than he was. And she was tall. Well, for a woman. The top of her head was just shy of his earlobe and he was six foot three.
And her eyes, so like those of a cat, were practically cutting him to shreds. With her high cheekbones, long nose and tanned skin she looked like a Native American princess. But it was those eyes, like green shards of glass fringed with incredibly long lashes, that had him staring like a dumbstruck fool.
“What? Cat got your tongue?”
It took that sarcastic remark to snap him out of his daze. He scowled. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such biting remarks, least of all from a woman. Most of the women he knew would be falling over themselves to impress him. At least, the ones who knew who he was.
He didn’t bother to respond. He could see that this was a feisty one and he wasn’t in the mood for a shouting match. Instead, he held out his driver’s license. “Here’s my information,” he said, his voice all business. “You can make a note while I grab my insurance papers.” When she didn’t take the card from his hand he rested it on the hood of his car then walked around to the passenger’s side of the Maserati where he flipped open the glove compartment and grabbed his documents.
When he went back to the front of his car Miss Brave and Bold was bending over, examining the damage to her back bumper, giving him a pretty good view of her taut derriere. Nice.
As he got closer she straightened. "Not too bad. The bang sounded a lot worse than it looks.” She gave him a bold stare then held out her driver’s license to him. “Here. I’ll go write your stuff down while you do mine.” She dropped the card into his palm and stepped over to where he’d left his driver’s license, her movements smooth and lithe like an athlete’s.
Stone stared after her but she paid him no mind. Strange. His stares were known to set the ladies tittering. But not this one. It was obvious that she was not easily impressed or intimidated.
She picked up the card and stared at it for a couple of seconds. Then she lifted it closer to her face and a chuckle escaped her lips. Then it turned into an all-out laugh.
Stone scowled. It wasn’t his best picture but, come on, it wasn’t that bad. He stepped closer and stared at his driver’s license in her long, lean fingers. “What’s so funny?” he growled.
“Your…your name,” she said, in between laughs. She turned her eyes on him and this time, instead of cutting anger, they were filled with dancing mirth. “Is your name really…” more laughter, “…Gladstone? You don’t look like a Gladstone to me.” And more laughter tumbled from her lips as she staggered back and leaned against the hood, clutching her chest in a fake laughter-induced heart attack.
His face grew as dark as his mood. The woman was laughing at him. “It’s Stone,” he said, his voice cold and hard. “Stone Hudson.” No-one called him by his first name. Absolutely no-one. They knew better. Until this woman came along…