I confess … I drooled a little.
But with tears still damp on my face, I was sure my rescuer didn’t notice the drool — although I absolutely positively for sure noticed every minute detail about him.
Over six feet tall, broad shoulders, long lean legs molded into perfectly fitted jeans and tender blue eyes fixed on yours truly. He was familiar, the way you recognize a famous actor or rock idol. But it was more than that. My inner math geek added it up — the hair, the face, the body: Chadwick Rockingham, Junior — son of Chadwick Rockingham, Senior, owner of the largest car dealership in the county. Two years ago, I’d welcomed him to school with a basketball-themed basket.
“You okay, babe?” he asked in this deep voice that shivered me from head to polished toenails.
Babe. So intimate, so seductive, and so not the sort of thing guys ever said to me. Usually it was, “Hey, help me with this math problem?” or “Could you get me one of those cool welcome baskets for my girlfriend?” When I complained about this to Alyce, she theorized that I was the clichéd Girl Next Door: admired and liked, but never lusted after.
Well, sometimes a girl could use a little lust.
“I was out-of-my-mind worried when I heard you were in the hospital,” he went on, kneeling on the edge of the bed close to me. Ooh, he even smelled nice, like musky aftershave and peppermint.
Chad Jr. was Leah’s boyfriend — off limits, untouchable, not available.
Unless you happened to be Leah Montgomery.
“Can’t you talk?” he asked with deep concern as he knelt at my bedside. “Leah, tell me you’re okay.”
“Ooo-kay,” I repeated in a daze.
“You sure? You’re not like yourself.”
“I … um … I’m not?”
“You need to get some color in your face and fix your hair.”
My hand flew to my hair, and I wondered if I could figure out how to style Leah’s hair and apply her makeup. I was the low maintenance type — just a dab of lip-gloss, and a quick brush through my curly hair before I captured it back with a hair clip. Leah’s silky locks hung limply around my shoulders.
“Still, you look good to me.” Chad leaned closer to me, which made me a little dizzy. “I was going crazy not being able to be with you.”
“You were?” I asked, breathlessly.
“All I could think about was you, but your parents wouldn’t tell me anything, except that you had some extreme flu.”
The flu? Was that the official story? Leah Montgomery will be temporarily absent from life due to illness — a much more acceptable excuse than attempted suicide.
“When I tried to see you, they wouldn’t let me in. Your father said you were highly contagious, but I figured he was lying, blowing me off because he doesn’t trust me around you.”
“Should he?”
He chuckled. “Definitely not.”
“You don’t seem very dangerous,” I couldn’t resist saying. Immediately I wanted to slap my mouth shut when I realized how flirty that sounded. I knew better — really I did — yet my ridiculous thudding heart drowned out that logical voice in my head. Instead, another voice said that I might not get another chance like this with someone like Chad, so why not have a little fun?
“Seriously dangerous — at least when I’m with you,” he said with a wicked grin. “That must be why your door was locked. But a lock won’t keep me out.”
I had a feeling they’d locked the door to keep the “crazy girl” in rather than to keep anyone out. But why spoil this intoxicating moment with awkward details?
“I’ve missed you so much,” he told me, folding his strong fingers around my hand.
“Wow … uh … Really?”
“It’s been hell, not knowing what’s going on with you. But you’re fine now and that’s what matters. Real fine,” he whispered huskily as he stared at me in this intense way. “You make me so crazy.”
“A good crazy?”
“Very good. Oh, Leah, I freaked when I heard you were sick, but everything is all right again, now we’re together.”
Be still my raging hormones. I almost forgot who I really was. Girl-Next-Door types didn’t make guys like Chad crazy. It just didn’t happen in the hierarchy of high school. Not because I’d inherited Dad’s large nose and Mom’s flat chest; it went deeper than appearance. It was a caste system, like where people in other cultures believe they evolved from lowly insects into human beings. In my school caste system, Leah was a goddess, while I was an invisible worker ant.
So when Chad bent over and kissed me, I didn’t pull away. Whoa baby, he knew what he was doing.
A kiss from Chad was like eating only one potato chip when you wanted to rip open the whole bag and devour them all. When he pulled away, I was ready to grab him back for more. But then he asked a question that changed everything.
“Want to get out of here?”
Instantly, my sanity returned.
“Out of here? Hell, yes!” I exclaimed, feeling suddenly foolish for going gaga over a kiss. I didn’t even know Chad, and it was Leah he liked anyway. Still, escaping with him wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.
“So let’s get moving,” he told me.
“But how can I leave without being caught?”
“The same way I got in. Locked doors can’t stop me,” he said with a confident wink. “There’s always an angle, and I know them all. When I heard you were released from the hospital but they wouldn’t put through my calls for you, I waited for the chance to come over. Then I snuck through the back door.”
“No one saw you?”
“Only Angie, but she’s cool with me and won’t say anything.”
I almost asked who Angie was, but that might make Chad suspicious. As long as Chad believed I was Leah, he was my one-way ticket out of here. I’d pretend a little longer; at least until I could get back to my own body.
“Turn around,” I told him as I got off the bed.
“Why?”
“So I can get dressed.”
“Since when did you develop modesty?” Chad’s intimate, flirty tone gave me an uneasy feeling he’d spent more time with Leah’s naked body than I had.
My cheeks grew hot. “Please turn around,” I said firmly.
Chad shot me a puzzled look, but did as I asked.
I searched the first drawer in Leah’s dresser and found stacks of folded socks. Another drawer scored an orderly selection of lingerie. I walked into the spacious closet filled with rows and rows of brand-name fashions, and finally chose a pale blue T-shirt and a pair of hip-hugging, sequined jeans. It felt strange wearing someone else’s clothes — almost as strange as wearing someone else’s body. The simple act of slipping on jeans and a shirt felt unnatural, as if my brain was disconnected from this body.
“You can look now,” I told him.
His eyes darkened as he smiled, then whistled low.
“Does that mean I look okay?”
“Totally irresistible,” he said, slipping an arm around me and kissing my neck. Shivers tickled my skin. “What’s the hurry to leave, anyway? I could lock the door and—”
“No!”
“It wouldn’t take long—”
“Not now. It’s too soon.”
“It’s been too long for me, and I thought you’d feel the same way.” He blew on my neck and I felt so dizzy I could hardly breathe.
“Um …” Deep breath. “We should … uh … go now.”
“Whatever you say. We can make up for lost time later. And don’t forget your purse again. It’s over there, by the hamper.”
“Uh … thanks.” I bent over to slip the strap of a small red vinyl purse over my shoulder. It was surprisingly heavy for a micro purse and I wondered what Leah kept inside. But that was the least of my concerns, and could wait.
Right now, I was getting out of here.
Thanks to Chad, the door was no longer locked. As I stepped into the hall, I was dizzy with freedom. But scared, too. Everything was still so confusing. When I looked down the unfamiliar hallway I hesitated, uncertain. To the left was a long hall, and to the right, a staircase.
I started to turn right, but Chad grabbed my arm. “Where’re you going?”
“Um … outside?”
“You’ll never make it if you walk past your parents’ room. The door is open and I heard the TV blaring, so your mother must be in there.”
“Oh … yeah. I’m all for avoiding her.”
“We’ll cut through the kitchen and then go around the garage,” he said.
I nodded, as if this made perfect sense. Then I followed him to the left, relieved to see a curved wooden staircase as we turned a corner.
“Shh. Be real quiet.” He put his finger to his lips. “Hunter is playing games.”
Hunter who? I almost asked. But I stopped myself and just nodded, as if I knew exactly who Hunter was and why he would prevent me from leaving. Tiptoeing down the stairs, we came out into a tiled hall with a high ceiling. Again I had no idea which way to go, so I followed Chad.
Electronic beeps blasted as we passed what I guessed was a game room. Chad put his finger to his lips in warning. I nodded, moving as silently as possible considering that my legs were still rubbery. We made it through an enormous kitchen and out a back door without being stopped.
The sunlight was so bright that I squinted and shaded my eyes with my hand. I paused to catch my breath, inhaling freshly mown grass. Straightening, I glanced around at a driveway leading up to a garage the size of my entire house. Bigger, actually.
“Where’s your car?” I asked Chad.
“My car?” He wrinkled his brow and shot me another one of those puzzled looks. “Don’t you mean my bike?”
“Bike?” I asked, surprised that he hadn’t shown up in a hot sports car.
“Duh. You know I drive a motorcycle.”
“Oh, yeah. Your bike.” I smiled nervously. I’d never been on a motorcycle before, but I could give it a try. “Is that what we’re taking?”
“After the stink you made last time you rode with me and a bug smashed on your neck? We’re not trying that again. Besides, my GSXR 1300 is so powerful, everyone would hear it and know I was here. I walked over.”
I frowned, trying to remember the distance between Leah’s neighborhood and Community Central Hospital. Too far to walk, for sure.
“Why are you just standing there?” he said impatiently. “You want to get caught?”
“No, but I’m still tired. How far will we have to walk?”
“Walk? You can’t be serious.” He laughed like he was playing along with a big joke. Then he reached for my purse, rifled through it and brought out a key ring. “We’ll drive like usual.”
Then, before I could say anything, he’d pushed a button and the garage door rose up, revealing a hot blue convertible and a gray SUV. He clicked another button and the convertible’s lights flashed.
“Come on,” he urged, handing me back the purse.
“But won’t Mrs. Mo … my mom get mad if I take her car?” I asked nervously.
“Why would we take her car? We’re going in yours.”