Kiss Me in the Summer - Barbara Dunlop Page 0,5

can.”

“That seems drastic.” I didn’t want to admit my situation was so precarious.

“Luke doesn’t have a spine,” Cecily said. It was clear we were both thinking the same things about Luke.

“You’re saying if Luke can’t find me, he can’t throw me under the bus.”

“Exactly. You’re a good lawyer, Laila. You’re a great lawyer. So long as the partners have time to think about it, they’ll want you to stay.”

I wanted to believe her.

I decided to believe her.

I lifted the spoon and took a scoopful of the softening ice cream. I brought it to my mouth as a consolation prize. It tasted pretty good. I was such a sucker for sweets.

Cecily got her own spoon to join me, but that wasn’t a comfort. Nothing said dire quite like Cecily digging into an ice cream carton before dinner.

Chapter Two

I felt like a fugitive driving north on Route 1 with my cell phone turned off. But if Luke was gunning for me, I wanted to give him as much time as possible to change his mind. Partway into Maine, I truly lost the cell signal, and I felt a little better.

It was Thursday now, late afternoon, and I was humming along the twisty shoreline highway in the ten-year-old sedan I’d owned since college. Around a sweeping bend, I saw a sign that said Scenic Route.

It went against the grain to take a less efficient course of action. I’d been focused on efficiency for a lot of years now. Columbia Law, my internship, and my associate position with Laatz Wallingsford were all hectic and high stress. But I had a couple of weeks to kill here. I’d have to slow myself down somehow.

I flipped on my signal, slowed, and took the turn.

An hour later, as the sun dipped to the horizon behind me, I began to regret my decision. The soaring cliffs and ocean views were scenic enough, but that was all I could see in any direction . . . cliffs, pine trees, and the white foaming ocean far down below. I hadn’t come across another car in quite a while, never mind a building or a town.

I felt like a pioneer woman on the frontier.

Growing up in Brooklyn and Manhattan, I was surrounded by noise and traffic and crowds. I was definitely not a back-to-nature girl. All this silent empty space around me was unnerving.

The road grew rougher, and I slowed my speed. It narrowed as well. There were guardrails along the cliff edge beside me, but they seemed very low and the drop-off beyond them was daunting. I was thinking seriously about turning around and was watching for a wide spot to do it in when my car sputtered.

My stomach tensed. I stilled, listening closely to the hum of the engine.

It sounded fine, not that I knew anything about engines. I checked all the gauges on my dashboard. Nothing was blinking red, everything looked normal, and I still had half a tank of gas.

Admittedly, I hadn’t had the car serviced recently. Back home I didn’t drive very often. I could easily walk to the deli, the bakery, or the market. It was less than five blocks to Laatz Wallingsford, and I took taxis if I needed to get to a client’s office. Mostly, the clients came to me.

The car sputtered again, lurching beneath me. I reflexively pulled my foot off the gas pedal and the sound stopped. As I coasted around a curve, I scanned the road in front of me, hoping for a town or gas station.

There was absolutely nothing man-made on the dusky horizon.

I pressed on the gas again, but that made the car lurch even more violently.

“No, no,” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel as the engine sputtered slower and slower.

This couldn’t be happening. I could not be breaking down on a deserted road in the middle of the wilderness with the sun setting and no cell service. I’d seen that movie—more than once. This was how it all started when people mysteriously disappeared.

Then the engine quit altogether.

I wrenched the steering wheel and coasted onto the narrow shoulder, my tires crunching on the gravel as I pulled the car to within inches of the guardrail. It rolled to a stopped. Then silence boomed around me.

I mustered my emotional strength. I was not going to panic. I was not . . . okay, maybe I’d panic a little bit.

I heard the roar of an oncoming engine. The sound echoed off the towering cliff across the road, and a car