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…
Still laughing, she nodded. “Okay, Gladstone...Stone, I got you.” Then, still chuckling, she pushed up and off the hood and headed for her SUV, the card still in her hand.
Stone stayed where he was, still simmering, and as he watched her through the back glass he saw her pick up a pen and pull a small notepad from the bag on the passenger’s seat. She began to write. And she was still chuckling.
Stone glared at the back of her head, feeling like he could happily wring her neck but, of course, he could not. Frustrated, he growled deep in his throat then looked down at the card in his hand. “Indiana Moon Lane”, it read. And, like him, she had a Burlington address. Twenty-nine years old with a birthday coming up in a month. So he was right. She was four years his junior. And, like most driver's licenses, the picture didn’t do her any justice. In the photo her hair was much longer, falling in a black curtain to her shoulders and her face looked thin. But those eyes could never be hidden. They jumped out at you, sharp as daggers, and that determined set of her mouth told anyone looking that she was a force to be reckoned with.
“Got everything you need?”
He looked up to see her standing beside him. How the heck had she done that? He hadn’t heard a sound but there she was, right by his elbow.
“Just a sec.” He reached through the window of his car and grabbed the novel he’d bought in the airport. Quickly, he copied her particulars into the back of the book and when she handed him her insurance papers he recorded that information as well. He turned around to hand them back to her but she had her back to him, her cell phone positioned as she took photos of her car.
“For the record,” she said and gave him a smile that wasn’t mocking or sarcastic but wide and genuine and beautiful, a smile that so transformed her face that he couldn’t help but stare. Again.
For a moment they both stood there – he, staring at her and she, smiling at him. She almost looked like she wanted to say something else, probably even strike up a real conversation, nothing to do with cars or accidents. He certainly did.
But then, just as he was about to speak, she took the papers from him then stepped back and lifted her hand in a little wave. “Well, I’ve got to run,” she said. “Got things to do and people to see. In fact,” she glanced away and a look of concern flitted across her face, “I'd better get cracking on my next assignment, as crazy as it is.”
Crazy assignment? That piqued his interest but he got no chance to ask questions. She was already walking back to her SUV.
Indiana Moon Lane slid into the driver’s seat, started the vehicle, and without a backward glance she merged into the slow-moving traffic and was gone.
Stone, half bewildered, half intrigued, stared after her. This woman, so fearless and direct, was a world apart from the hothouse flowers he was used to. In fact, she looked like she’d be happier on the wide open plains of the wild west or the jungles of South America than stuck in the middle of traffic on a Canadian highway.
Then a thought came to him, a crazy thought, but he couldn’t shake it. What if she was the one he’d been looking for all along?
CHAPTER TWO
Indie pushed the supermarket trolley down the aisle with Tessa in tow. She reached for a head of Romaine lettuce and threw it into the cart on top of the bag of potatoes, tray of sweet corn and the big green watermelon that she planned to devour later. She loved herself some watermelon.
She was bending over to grab a bag of navel oranges from a huge bin when Tessa grabbed her arm.
“What about that one?” her friend whispered fiercely.
Indie looked up and there, at the end of the aisle, was a very tall, very handsome man, his long dark hair pulled back with a string, his muscular arms quite visible in a sleeveless exercise top. He was wearing sweatpants and gym shoes and he had a carton of milk in his shopping basket. He was studying the label on a box of cereal. Obviously, a health nut. Not that that was a bad thing. But still…
“So?” Tessa nudged her. “What do you think?”
Indie grimaced and turned her attention back to the oranges. “Nah. Too pretty.”
“Too pre-” Tessa glared up at her. “Will you be serious? You asked me to help you, Indie, but you’re not even trying.”