Driving Her Crazy by Amy Andrews

more potholed highway. Her mind was busy and her gut was gradually screwing itself into a tighter and tighter ball.
    Kent, however, did notice the jolting and the shaking, particularly in the interesting way it manifested itself. Sadie’s chest shifted and bounced in his peripheral vision, totally screwing with his concentration. His initial relief that she wasn’t going to be Little Miss Nosey was quickly tempered. At least conversation might have kept his mind on something other than the way her breasts rocked and swayed in rhythm with the vehicle.
    After two hours of complete silence from her, Kent couldn’t stand it for another moment. Particularly when she was wound as tight as a bow string and frowning enough to give her wrinkles that no amount of youth serum would fix. Her thoughts were so loud he could almost hear them forming.
    He gave a slight shake of his head as he opened his mouth to speak, not quite believing that he was the one initiating conversation. ‘Penny for them?’ he asked.
    Sadie frowned as she turned towards his voice. It took a second for his question to register front and centre in her brain. ‘Nothing,’ she dismissed. ‘Just...formulating some questions for the interview.’
    ‘Then why are you frowning so much. He doesn’t bite, does he?’
    Sadie didn’t answer as she thought about Leo’s particular brand of scathing wit. Plenty of people had felt the sting of it. He wasn’t a man who tolerated fools very gladly.
    It was Kent’s turn to frown at her silence. ‘Does he?’ he demanded. Photographing celebrities already felt like a sell-out. He wasn’t going to pander to an overinflated ego, no matter how well regarded he was in the art world.
    Sadie frowned again. ‘What? Oh...no, he doesn’t bite.’
    Kent cocked an eyebrow. ‘So you do know him?’
    Sadie pulled her gaze away from the probing reach of his. ‘How much longer do you think?’

    Kent stood waiting at a petrol station in Borroloola his good foot resting up on the bull bar, a map spread over the red-dust-encrusted bonnet of his vehicle, studying the directions to Leonard Pinto’s outback retreat. Sadie had insisted on stopping here even though they’d not long stopped at a roadhouse for lunch.
    Well, at least he’d eaten lunch. She’d nibbled on a small apple and hadn’t even finished it. But given her little speech from day one about her cast-iron bladder he was surprised she needed to use the bathroom again so soon.
    Movement to his left snagged his attention and he turned his head to focus on the woman walking towards him. It took him a beat or two to realise it was Sadie.
    He blinked.
    She was wearing a dress. A flowing red dress with shoestring straps that showed the tiniest hint of cleavage. It outlined her thighs and fell in a fringed hem just below her knees.
    It was hardly revealing, in fact it seemed to just skim everything. To hint but not reveal.
    But the way it flowed against her body, moved against her curves, the way the red offset her hair and complemented her mouth and skin was nothing short of a marvel.
    She drew level with him and asked, ‘Does this look okay?’
    Okay?
    Kent felt as if he had a few short days ago in Tabitha’s office—as if his eyes were poking out on springs. Up close he could see she’d enhanced her eyes a little with some dark kohl, had smeared some gloss on her mouth, big silver hoops hung from her ear lobes. Her raven hair flowed around her shoulders.
    She looked like a gypsy and Kent struggled to keep himself from falling under her spell.
    ‘Wow,’ was about all he could manage when he realised he hadn’t answered her hesitant enquiry. But it seemed to do the trick as a huge grin kicked her crazy big mouth up at the sides.
    ‘Right answer,’ she murmured. ‘For a moment I thought you were going to say fine.’
    He shrugged. ‘I was toying with mighty fine.’
    ‘Ah,’ she smiled. ‘You’re learning.’
    He smiled back. ‘I didn’t know we had to