In the Groove by Pamela Britton Read Free Book Online Page A

referring to the bright spots of light that pooled on the gray cement.
    "Thanks."
    She looked up at the motor coach again, having to blink a few times to get her eyes to focus. "That's a very racy race pattern on the side," she said, referring to the black graphics that whipped back from the front of the bus like streams of paper, or the tentacles from a Predator's head. "I'm surprised it doesn't have checkered flags on the side."
    "I'm a Raiders fan."
    She looked over at him, feeling light-headed all of sudden.
    He must have seen her wobble a bit. "You okay?" he asked.
    "I'm fine," she said. "I feel just fine." And she really did. In fact, she felt better than fine. "Good. Really, really good." She smiled, a huge, wide smile that puffed up her cheeks until she could practically see them. She tried doing exactly that for a while, crossing her eyes until realizing that made her very dizzy.
    "C'mon," he said.
    She followed him, having to correct her directions a few times before making it to the door. Odd.
    "Whoa," she heard Lance say. "Easy there, Sparky."
    She felt hands steady her. Big hands. Warm hands. She'd like it if they held her for the rest of the day.
    "That medicine makes me woozy."
    "That medicine makes you something," she heard him murmur, amusement leaking out from the words.
    "How do you get in this thing?" she asked, patting the door like it was a thug she'd just apprehended. "Is there a handle?"
    "There's a keypad," he said, letting go of her shoulders, though she thought he might have hesitated a bit, as if he didn't want to let her go. "Here," he said, pushing on a hidden panel, the thing flipping around a la Star Trek to reveal a numeric keypad.
    "Neat-o," she said.
    "Yeah, neat-o," he echoed.
    "You're laughing at me," she accused, having seen his lips twitch.
    "Nah," he said, a metallic beep-beep-beep ringing out as he pressed some numbers.
    "Why are you laughing at me?" she asked, feeling suddenly miffed.
    "I'm not laughing. It's your smile. It's infectious."
    She felt her shoulders droop a bit. "Oh," she said in a small voice. Then gasped as with a whoosh and a hiss, the bus door opened, and to be honest, she was surprised a peal of little choirboys didn't ring out as the interior was revealed.
    "Hole. Lee. Shit."
    "I thought you didn't swear."
    "This is definitely a situation that calls for swearing. How much did this thing cost?"
    "You don't want to know."
    She turned back to him, getting woozy again, but that was okay because he steadied her again. "How much?" she insisted, partly horrified that she asked such an audacious question.
    "A million two."
    "A million two!"
    She saw his lips twitch again just before he said. "A million two."
    "I'm driving a million—" She stepped back, wobbling a bit before she caught herself. "Nope," she said, waving her hands. "Nope, nope, nope. I can't drive something that costs that much. No way."
    "Whoa-ho-ho," he said, placing a hand against her back. "Calm down, Sparky. It's no big deal."
    "No big deal?" she said. "You try driving a rolling bank vault."
    "It's not like that. It's just a motor coach. Besides, if you wreck it, the insurance company will replace it."
    "Yeah, right. And hike up your rates."
    "Sarah," he said, stepping closer to her. "It's just a motor coach. That's all. Don't think about how much it's worth."
    "Easy for you to say," she muttered.
    It looked like he had to bite back a smile again. "C'mon," he said. "Let me show you inside."
    "No."
    And then he did something completely unbosslike. He framed her face with his hands, leaned down close to her and said, "There's nothing to worry about It's just a bus. That's all. If you drive it off the Brooklyn Bridge I wouldn't care. Seriously."
    If she thought she was dizzy before, it was nothing compared to the way she felt with his face so close to her own, his soft gray eyes filled with warmth and understanding. It took a second or two for her to remember to breathe.
    She could really like this man.
    The