All in all, she was just plain nice to look at. She wasn’t tall, which he thought might make her look further along than she was-not like his sister Jess, for instance, who was tall and big-boned and could hide a pretty good-size baby under a men’s blue work shirt until the last minute if she wanted to. Obviously this lady wasn’t interested in hiding anything, though, because the top she was wearing-a long-sleeved turtleneck in some kind of thick, silky stuff in a deep, dark plum that shimmered in the light-had a tendency to cling. Not in an embarrassing way; like the car she drove, the lady had class. Just enough to give a hint of the way her body might look under normal circumstances-all curves and sweet, giving softnesses, voluptuous as a Southern summer.
He would probably have looked at her a whole lot more, but he figured he’d already embarrassed himself enough, getting caught flat-footed staring at her like some kind of noaccount Cracker without the manners his mama had taught him.
As it turned out, though, the booth where she’d been sitting was empty and the waitress was clearing off the table. Just as well, he thought, and tried to put the lady and some vague feelings of disappointment out of his mind.
Which was easier said than done. It wasn’t about her being such a looker, either, although she sure was that. But he wondered what in the world was she doing, a California girl, way out here in the middle of New Mexico, as far along as she was. And all by herself, by the looks of things.
One thing for sure, Jimmy Joe thought, if she wasn’t single, her husband ought to be ashamed of himself. And if she was… Well, it was a shame. A real shame.
He just hoped she knew what she was getting herself into.
Mirabella emerged from a stall in the ladies’ room feeling not much better than she had going in. She washed her hands and blotted her face with a wet paper towel and then, since there wasn’t anyone to see her, paused a moment to study her reflection in the mirror above the sink. As usual, what she saw did not please her. Her hair was okay, and her complexion, though paler even than usual, didn’t trouble her; but she didn’t like the dark circles under her eyes and the deep grooves, like tiny parentheses, around her mouth. She hadn’t been sleeping very well, that was the problem. Just lately it seemed as if the baby had changed position, or something, and it was almost impossible for her to find a position that was comfortable-or if she did, one that would stay that way for any length of time. Small wonder-she was just so
Then, as she always did when such thoughts overcame her, she felt terribly guilty. I didn’t mean it, she hastily assured whatever powers might be listening.
She knew what she needed more than anything was just to lie down for a little while, maybe put her feet up. She considered with longing the lounge she’d glimpsed during her earlier explorations-a nicely darkened room with a TV and several comfy-looking couches. But it had been in the section designated Professional Drivers Only, and she didn’t think it very likely anyone would mistake her for a trucker-even though from what she’d seen, some of them had stomachs as big as hers. Bigger.
Oh, well. Mirabella hadn’t gotten where she was by being a wimp or a crybaby, and she didn’t believe in giving in to minor inconveniences or discomforts like backaches and leg cramps. She did, however, believe in extra- strength Tylenol. So before going back out to her car, she dug the bottle she always carried with her out of her purse and shook two of the white caplets into her hand.
She was looking around for a source of water with which to swallow them when she noticed a crowd of truckers gathered around a large lighted wall map over near the ATM and the machine that sold prepaid phone cards. She’d spotted it earlier but hadn’t stopped to study it, having had more pressing needs on her mind at the time. Now she deduced that it was some kind of weather map-one that displayed all the time zones, major truck routes and temperature and weather conditions for the whole Northern Hemisphere. In addition to which there were up-to-the-minute weather bulletins constantly ticking across the top of the map, like the news headlines in Times Square. She noticed that most of the assembled truckers seemed to be watching the message like it was Michael Jordan going down the court for a layup, except they didn’t look very happy about it.
Mirabella had more than her share of natural curiosity, so of course right away she wanted to know what was so interesting about that weather board. On the other hand, she wasn’t crazy about the idea of venturing into a crowd of fairly scruffy and rough-looking men. She felt comfortable enough with men when she was in familiar territory and calling all the shots, but this wasn’t L.A. None of the men she customarily dealt with wore parts of snakes as clothing accessories or clanked when they walked.
Plus, there was nothing she hated more than being stared at, and she wasn’t exactly inconspicuous at the moment. Not that she ever had been.
So she was hanging around the outer edge of the crowd, trying her best to read the message from a distance and thinking maybe it was time to get her contact-lens prescription updated, when she happened to spot the cute blond trucker from the restaurant. Since he was also busy trying to get a closer look at the board and not paying attention to anything else, Mirabella was pretty much free to stare at him all she wanted.
She couldn’t get over it. It was all there-tall and lean, blond hair with just the right amount of curl, and not even a hint of a freckle that she could see. Good facial bones, strong but not heavy; nice cheekbones, straight nose, firm chin. No eyeglasses-unless, of course, he wore contacts, too. But for some reason she just knew he didn’t. God, he was perfect. Everything about him was just… perfect.
No doubt about it, she could have been looking at her baby’s father, in the flesh.
Right then, almost as if he’d felt her staring at him, the trucker looked around and straight at her, and she had to turn her head away quickly and try to pretend she’d only happened to glance his way by accident. Then, while she was being careful not to look at him, she was certain she could feel him watching her. Only she didn’t dare look to see if he was, because if he was, then he would know she was looking at
And she wondered, Is this what it’s going to be like? Every time I see a tall, good-looking blond guy walking down the street, am I going to ask myself, Is it him? Is he the one?
It wasn’t, of course. She knew that. No way. Her baby’s father was a student, a music major. It didn’t seem likely to her that a trucker would fall into either the music or student category, even if this one was wearing a University of Georgia sweatshirt. The shirt had a picture of a bulldog on the front, and looked faded and comfortable, like an old, well-washed favorite. Maybe, she thought, letting her gaze travel on down to slim hips encased in equally worn and comfy-looking blue jeans, he just happens to like big, ugly dogs…
“Excuse me, ma‘am, is there somethin’ I can help you with?”
If Mirabella had been the type to die of embarrassment, she surely would have then. Fortunately, however, she’d had lots of experience dealing with humiliation, and had learned that the best way was usually just to brazen it out. Caught flat-out staring, she raised her eyebrows and said, “I beg your pardon?” in a haughty tone, as if she wasn’t the one who was being rude.
The young trucker was frowning at her, but looking more puzzled than hostile. “I was just wonderin’-do I know you from somewhere?”
God, he was cute. Brown eyes, interestingly enough, not blue. Mirabella gave him a small, tight smile that said, “Fat chance,” and shook her head.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, hey, I’m sorry I bothered you then. I just thought the way you were lookin’ at me, like you were tryin’ to figure out where you knew me from…” He had a nice, easy smile-not cocky, more sweet. Like Robert Redford. And damned if that wasn’t a dimple.
Mirabella’s heart did a little skip, which she knew from experience meant she was attracted to this guy and consequently in imminent danger of making a fool of herself. So of course, right away her attitude got even more haughty. “I apologize for that,” she said, drawing herself up like a grand duchess. “You reminded me of someone I used to know.” Then, realizing she’d been given a golden opportunity, she paused and allowed herself to melt a little. “Actually, I was trying to see that message board over there. What’s going on, do you know?”
The trucker’s dimple disappeared along with his smile. He sort of rubbed at the back of his neck and looked uncomfortable, as if the weather was in some way his fault. “Ah…there’s a blizzard, I guess. In Texas.”
“A
