Midnight Special Coming on Strong - By Tawny Weber Page 0,24
distrustful? And wouldn’t that make a fascinating biography?
“My aunt is in San Francisco,” she blurted out, her mind one word ahead of her mouth. “It’s her story I’m writing. She’s not doing well. The family expects to lose her anytime.”
Again, all truthful, given that the family had disowned her aunt when she’d run off to join a commune in order to write an insider view of the free-love movement. Marni had heard her grandparents say time and again that Robin was lost to them.
“I’m sorry.” Looking as if he really was, Hunter reached across the narrow table to pat her hand. “Are you and your aunt close?”
“She’s my hero.” Marni’s smile was bittersweet as she spoke that truth. What she didn’t share was that because of the family rift, she’d never met the woman in person. Then and there, she vowed that once she reached San Francisco, she was going to remedy that. “I don’t think she has any idea how much I admire her, want to be like her. She’s lived this amazing life, and is such a strong woman. She deserves to have her story told. Have you ever known anyone like that?”
After a second of hesitation, Hunter nodded. “My father, I suppose. He always inspired me in a lot of ways. I always wanted to be like him when I was a kid. I guess he was a hero, you know?”
“Then you know what I mean. My aunt is so special to me. I need to do this. I need her to be proud of me.”
Hunter grimaced, then gave a nod toward her plate as if to indicate she get to eating. Since he dug into his slab of fried ham and three eggs over easy, Marni slowly followed suit. But she didn’t take her eyes off his face.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“Here’s the deal...”
“Yes?”
“We’ll share, but there are a few rules.” He looked about as enthusiastic as if the words were being forced out at gunpoint. She didn’t mind. It wasn’t as though she needed him to want to have her around. Not like she would if they were going to have another bout between the sheets. Or against the wall. She swallowed, trying to get past the sudden lump in her throat at the image of the two of them up against the door like they’d been just an hour ago. She imagined his body tight against hers, this time while the train’s motion added a whole new level of erotic to their sexy dance.
“Rules?” she croaked, trying to banish that image.
So far, she sucked at this focus-on-business goal of hers.
“I need privacy to work. I’m preparing a classified financial report and can’t have you in the room. We’ll establish the hours, and during those hours each day, you clear out of the room. You can write in the lounge, or watch movies, or paint a picture for your aunt. Whatever you want to do. But during work hours, the room is mine.”
Marni managed to contain her butt-wiggling happy chair dance, instead raising a single brow in inquiry.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. You take the top bunk. I’m sore and don’t want to have to climb into a tiny bed that’s too short for my legs.”
“And that’s it, your last rule?” she asked, her heavy sigh making it clear she knew he was going to toss in another one.
She was right.
After a quick frown, he shook his head and leaned forward.
“Nope. One more. The minute you change your no to a yes, you be sure to let me know.”
* * *
HUNTER LIKED THIS TRAIN. The old-world feel, harkening back to an easier time, it had a lot of charm. A man of the times, he didn’t yearn for the days without 4G, Wi-Fi, instant records checks and string bikinis. But the gritty world of a gumshoe, the cut-and-dried appeal of simpler—though no less horrible—crimes, yeah. He could see why people would drop a pile of money to pretend they were a part of that era.
After he left Marni to finish her meal, he moved through the cars, from dining to lounge, past one renovated into a movie theater and back toward the caboose. He wasn’t officially on duty, but he always found it handy when traveling to introduce himself to whoever was in charge, as well as to get a lay of the land. Or in this case, to memorize the layout of the train.