reminded herself of that fact, the more likely it was to stick
with her.
Still, there was something gloriously free about purring
along the road with the top down, the wind in her hair and sun on her face
while lovely vistas appeared around every bend in the road. The air smelled of
the sea, also of herbs, flowers, umbrella pines and just a whiff of Nico’s
special men’s fragrance. She could feel her spirits lift, buoyed up by hope
that both Jonathan and Carita would be all right now that the first, crucial
forty-eight hours had come and gone.
Nico drove well, his concentration unwavering yet his
well-formed hands relaxed on the wheel as he controlled the powerful
automobile. The wind ruffled his hair into shinning furrows and slapped the
collar of his shirt against the strong brown column of his neck. He narrowed
his eyes against its force as he took the many curves and loops of the road
with the panache she was beginning to expect from his countrymen.
Actually, he reminded her of Jonathan at the wheel, driving
a little too fast for her comfort but not enough to wring a protest from her.
If she directed her attention to the scenery and the houses they passed, she
was perfectly calm.
Rounding a curve, they came suddenly upon an ancient panel
van that belched black smoke while moving at a crawl due to a wobbling back
wheel. Nico glanced ahead toward where another curve loomed a short distance in
front of them. Accelerating without pause, he zoomed forward, overtaking the
van and then regaining his side of the road with smooth precision. He braked in
time to make the curve without the least difficulty.
“And you dare call Jonathan reckless!” Amanda said when her
heart had returned to its proper place in her chest.
“I had plenty of time,” he said with the quick lift of a
brow. “There was no need to be frightened.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” she said immediately. “But I fail to see
how you can condemn my brother when you don’t know that his accident wasn’t
caused by something similar to what just happened.”
“Performing a deliberate maneuver where every inch of the
road is familiar is not the same as showing off on an unfamiliar highway.”
“There’s nothing whatever wrong with Jonathan’s judgment
behind the wheel, or with his reflexes, either. He might stretch a point with
his own life on the track, but would never risk the life of a passenger.”
He gave her a swift look while negotiating yet another bend.
“Defend him if you must — I can’t argue with your loyalty and can even admire
it. But he wound up going over the edge. Nothing you say can change that.”
She wanted to refute the charge, but that was impossible.
Turning away, blinking against a sudden press of tears, she stared out at the
steep and brushy slope that fell away down to the sea with only an occasional
stretch of guardrail at the worst bends. Some stretches, she saw with a
shudder, went straight down.
What must it have been like to go careening over that edge?
The terror of knowing it was happening, the crunch of rock and brush, the
weightlessness and endless fall. It must have been horrifying, even before the
crash at the bottom.
“Was it somewhere near here—?” she began, her voice
constricted in her throat.
“We passed the place five minutes ago.”
“Oh.” He was becoming far too adept at guessing what she
meant to say, though she was just as glad she hadn’t needed to finish her
question. Nor did she want to see the exact place where her brother and Carita
had come so close to dying, not really. It would make it all too real.
They rode in silence for a minute or two. Nico glanced her
way, for she saw the movement with her peripheral vision. His lips firmed
before he looked back at the road again. He spoke then without looking at her.
“On another topic, but one of importance, I must ask you not
to encourage Carisa to experiment with things which are not suitable for her.”
“What?”
“The lip
with her.
Still, there was something gloriously free about purring
along the road with the top down, the wind in her hair and sun on her face
while lovely vistas appeared around every bend in the road. The air smelled of
the sea, also of herbs, flowers, umbrella pines and just a whiff of Nico’s
special men’s fragrance. She could feel her spirits lift, buoyed up by hope
that both Jonathan and Carita would be all right now that the first, crucial
forty-eight hours had come and gone.
Nico drove well, his concentration unwavering yet his
well-formed hands relaxed on the wheel as he controlled the powerful
automobile. The wind ruffled his hair into shinning furrows and slapped the
collar of his shirt against the strong brown column of his neck. He narrowed
his eyes against its force as he took the many curves and loops of the road
with the panache she was beginning to expect from his countrymen.
Actually, he reminded her of Jonathan at the wheel, driving
a little too fast for her comfort but not enough to wring a protest from her.
If she directed her attention to the scenery and the houses they passed, she
was perfectly calm.
Rounding a curve, they came suddenly upon an ancient panel
van that belched black smoke while moving at a crawl due to a wobbling back
wheel. Nico glanced ahead toward where another curve loomed a short distance in
front of them. Accelerating without pause, he zoomed forward, overtaking the
van and then regaining his side of the road with smooth precision. He braked in
time to make the curve without the least difficulty.
“And you dare call Jonathan reckless!” Amanda said when her
heart had returned to its proper place in her chest.
“I had plenty of time,” he said with the quick lift of a
brow. “There was no need to be frightened.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” she said immediately. “But I fail to see
how you can condemn my brother when you don’t know that his accident wasn’t
caused by something similar to what just happened.”
“Performing a deliberate maneuver where every inch of the
road is familiar is not the same as showing off on an unfamiliar highway.”
“There’s nothing whatever wrong with Jonathan’s judgment
behind the wheel, or with his reflexes, either. He might stretch a point with
his own life on the track, but would never risk the life of a passenger.”
He gave her a swift look while negotiating yet another bend.
“Defend him if you must — I can’t argue with your loyalty and can even admire
it. But he wound up going over the edge. Nothing you say can change that.”
She wanted to refute the charge, but that was impossible.
Turning away, blinking against a sudden press of tears, she stared out at the
steep and brushy slope that fell away down to the sea with only an occasional
stretch of guardrail at the worst bends. Some stretches, she saw with a
shudder, went straight down.
What must it have been like to go careening over that edge?
The terror of knowing it was happening, the crunch of rock and brush, the
weightlessness and endless fall. It must have been horrifying, even before the
crash at the bottom.
“Was it somewhere near here—?” she began, her voice
constricted in her throat.
“We passed the place five minutes ago.”
“Oh.” He was becoming far too adept at guessing what she
meant to say, though she was just as glad she hadn’t needed to finish her
question. Nor did she want to see the exact place where her brother and Carita
had come so close to dying, not really. It would make it all too real.
They rode in silence for a minute or two. Nico glanced her
way, for she saw the movement with her peripheral vision. His lips firmed
before he looked back at the road again. He spoke then without looking at her.
“On another topic, but one of importance, I must ask you not
to encourage Carisa to experiment with things which are not suitable for her.”
“What?”
“The lip
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