Driving Her Crazy - By Amy Andrews Page 0,4

great opportunity for you, Sadie,’ Tabitha interjected. ‘Two feature stories for the price of one. Of course, if you don’t think you’re up to it we can always find someone else...’

Sadie wanted to stamp her foot at the not-so-subtle ultimatum. But she didn’t. Tabitha was right. It was a gift. How was her boss to know about Sadie’s nervousness at facing her ex-lover again? Or that when she did, she wanted to look a million dollars, not like a wrung-out dish mop?

At least a gruelling car journey would help the crash diet she’d put herself on since finding out about this opportunity two days ago. The last time she’d seen Leo, she’d been thin, her curves straitjacketed by a strict eating regime.

Not naturally svelte, she had taken a while to slim down when they’d first started their relationship. But Leo’s love and encouragement had been a fantastic incentive. Every time he’d raved about the symmetry of her prominent collar, wrist and hipbones, or the way the milkiness of her skin stretched sparingly over the hard surfaces beneath, she’d felt accomplished.

He used to stroke her hair as it fell in between the angles of her bony scapulas and tell her it looked like rippling satin flowing between a sculpted valley. That her creamy skin was the perfect foil.

The only thing curvy about her then had been her breasts. And, no matter how much Leo had lamented them, not even rigid dieting had had an effect on their size. He’d offered to pay for a reduction and she’d been thrilled at the suggestion. Thrilled that the brilliant artist had seen something special in her body. Seen it as a work of art, an empty canvas.

Thrilled that she’d become his muse, revelling in his almost obsessive need to paint her.

She was excruciatingly aware now she was not the woman he had sent away. That he had loved.

And she had a lot to prove.

So there was one upside to this proposed nightmare road trip. Between starvation and puking up constantly she could lose a stone or two before seeing him again.

‘No. It’s fine,’ she said, briskly pulling herself out of the food-obsessing habits of a past life. ‘I can do it. I just can’t promise the upholstery of the hire car will ever be the same again.’

‘No hire car,’ Kent said. ‘We’ll be using my all-terrain vehicle.’

Sadie nodded at him. Of course. An all-terrain vehicle. Mr Intense-and-rugged probably also had the Batmobile tucked away somewhere.

‘When do we leave?’ She sighed.

‘I’ll pick you up in the morning. Pack light. No places serving drinks with umbrellas where we’re going.’

‘Gee,’ she said sweetly, ‘imagine my surprise.’

Sadie’s fallback position had always been sarcasm—a defence mechanism against a world that constantly misjudged her because of the size of her chest. As an adult she tried her best to contain it but, sadly, it was too ingrained in her nature to be completely stifled.

And if Kent Nelson insisted on this ridiculous road trip, on spending days in a car alone together, then he could consider this a heads up.

Tabitha might have forced her hand, but she didn’t have to like it.

Sadie was ready when Kent rang the doorbell the next morning. She was wearing loose denim cut-offs and a modest polo shirt, her hair fell freely around her shoulders and a pair of ballet flats completed the ensemble. Her medium-sized backpack and a small insulated bag were waiting at the door.

Kent blinked at the transformation from serious city career girl in a power suit to girl-next-door. Again, her clothes did nothing to emphasise the curves—if anything they were on the baggy side.

It was just that Sadie’s curves were uncontainable.

Dressed like this, still absent of any bling, it was easy to believe she was only the twenty-four years Tabitha had informed him of yesterday.

Which made her precisely twelve years younger than him.

She was a baby, for crying out loud.

‘What’s in here?’ Kent asked as he grabbed the fridge bag off her and lifted her pack. An hour ago he’d been whistling as he’d loaded the vehicle for the trip, a buzz he hadn’t felt in a long time coursing through his veins.

The buzz was still there.

He just wasn’t sure, in the presence of Sadie, if it was one hundred per cent related to the drive any more.

‘Ginger ale,’ she said, watching how the muscles in his tanned forearms bunched.

Before yesterday she would have admired the delineation, the symmetry, the beauty of the fluid movement. Today they just made her insides feel