lurched and swung to the side. Reba looked up from her boots, jolted out of her reverie. When she saw where the vehicle was—and where Chance was going to take it—she clenched her teeth against a scream. There was no road, nothing but a chaos of dirt and rock spilling down the steep mountainside to the black ravine far below.
Bucking, roaring, wheels spinning and spewing loose dirt before biting down to bedrock, the Toyota clawed its way over the landslide. The vehicle hung perilously onto the shifting surface of the land. At times they slanted so steeply on the downhill side that Reba was sure they were only seconds away from flipping over. Each time the Toyota seemed to be losing its battle against going end over end, Reba’s nails dug deeper into her palms. Each fishtailing skid and swooping recovery made her teeth clench until the tendons in her neck ached.
At some point she realized that while the Toyota’s movements were unpredictable and frightening to her, they weren’t to Chance. He knew where the wheels were likely to skid on loose rock. He knew just how steep an angle the vehicle could hold without turning turtle. He knew how to keep the power steady and how to ease back smoothly, when to coax and when to command. He reminded Reba of a diamond cutter she had seen in Holland; each movement quick, clean, no hesitations, no jerky motions, total concentration and incredible skill combined.
Even so, Reba was glad to get to the other side. She sighed and sensed Chance looking at her.
“Want to get out next time?” he asked.
“Are there many more like that?”
“One or two.”
She grimaced. “It will almost be worth it.”
“Worth what?”
“Being scared to death just so I can appreciate you. You’re one hell of a good driver, Mr. Walker.”
“You’re one hell of a good passenger. Frankly, I was expecting you to scream.”
“I was afraid it would distract you,” she admitted.
“Smart as well as beautiful,” Chance said approvingly. He took her hands and kissed the red marks her nails had left on her palms. “I should have made you wear the gloves I got for you.”
“Gloves? It’s not cold.”
“Leather is tougher than fingernails,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. “So is rock. You’ll need gloves in the China Queen, unless you want hands as ugly as mine.”
“Your hands aren’t ugly,” protested Reba, remembering how gentle his hands were when they touched her. “They’re like all of you, strong and sensitive and hard. But not ugly. Never that.”
The Toyota stopped suddenly. Chance unfastened his seatbelt, leaned over and kissed Reba until she was breathless. Before she could recover he had fastened himself back in and was concentrating again on the brutal road. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the “one or two” rough patches ahead.
Chance helped to distract her by talking about the geology of the area. He told her about continental plates sliding past one another with ponderous grace and world-shaking results, the crust wrinkling, magma welling up and hardening into granite masses beneath the land, earthquakes and mountains rising, molten rock shifting beneath the surface of the earth like an immense dragon stirring in its sleep.
It was still happening today, tiny adjustments of the earth’s crust that could only be felt by man’s most sensitive machines. Hundreds of temblors animated the land, subliminal twitches of the incandescent dragon sleeping deep beneath the surface. And every so often the dragon rolled over, shaking the land with casual strength and devastating results.
Chance drove the Toyota over a patch of decomposed granite, rock whose chemical “glue” had come unstuck through exposure to sun and wind and rain. The rock was pale orange and crumbled easily, making it as slippery as mud to drive over.
“I could learn to hate granite,” said Reba as Chance took the Toyota through a downhill curve in a controlled
Bucking, roaring, wheels spinning and spewing loose dirt before biting down to bedrock, the Toyota clawed its way over the landslide. The vehicle hung perilously onto the shifting surface of the land. At times they slanted so steeply on the downhill side that Reba was sure they were only seconds away from flipping over. Each time the Toyota seemed to be losing its battle against going end over end, Reba’s nails dug deeper into her palms. Each fishtailing skid and swooping recovery made her teeth clench until the tendons in her neck ached.
At some point she realized that while the Toyota’s movements were unpredictable and frightening to her, they weren’t to Chance. He knew where the wheels were likely to skid on loose rock. He knew just how steep an angle the vehicle could hold without turning turtle. He knew how to keep the power steady and how to ease back smoothly, when to coax and when to command. He reminded Reba of a diamond cutter she had seen in Holland; each movement quick, clean, no hesitations, no jerky motions, total concentration and incredible skill combined.
Even so, Reba was glad to get to the other side. She sighed and sensed Chance looking at her.
“Want to get out next time?” he asked.
“Are there many more like that?”
“One or two.”
She grimaced. “It will almost be worth it.”
“Worth what?”
“Being scared to death just so I can appreciate you. You’re one hell of a good driver, Mr. Walker.”
“You’re one hell of a good passenger. Frankly, I was expecting you to scream.”
“I was afraid it would distract you,” she admitted.
“Smart as well as beautiful,” Chance said approvingly. He took her hands and kissed the red marks her nails had left on her palms. “I should have made you wear the gloves I got for you.”
“Gloves? It’s not cold.”
“Leather is tougher than fingernails,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. “So is rock. You’ll need gloves in the China Queen, unless you want hands as ugly as mine.”
“Your hands aren’t ugly,” protested Reba, remembering how gentle his hands were when they touched her. “They’re like all of you, strong and sensitive and hard. But not ugly. Never that.”
The Toyota stopped suddenly. Chance unfastened his seatbelt, leaned over and kissed Reba until she was breathless. Before she could recover he had fastened himself back in and was concentrating again on the brutal road. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the “one or two” rough patches ahead.
Chance helped to distract her by talking about the geology of the area. He told her about continental plates sliding past one another with ponderous grace and world-shaking results, the crust wrinkling, magma welling up and hardening into granite masses beneath the land, earthquakes and mountains rising, molten rock shifting beneath the surface of the earth like an immense dragon stirring in its sleep.
It was still happening today, tiny adjustments of the earth’s crust that could only be felt by man’s most sensitive machines. Hundreds of temblors animated the land, subliminal twitches of the incandescent dragon sleeping deep beneath the surface. And every so often the dragon rolled over, shaking the land with casual strength and devastating results.
Chance drove the Toyota over a patch of decomposed granite, rock whose chemical “glue” had come unstuck through exposure to sun and wind and rain. The rock was pale orange and crumbled easily, making it as slippery as mud to drive over.
“I could learn to hate granite,” said Reba as Chance took the Toyota through a downhill curve in a controlled
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