"What, and miss seeing how far you'd travel without once checking to see where you were going?" Nell hitched a smooth-skinned shoulder. "I don't think so. Girl's gotta grab her jollies where she can."

"And here I thought I could count on you to be my guide." She pushed away, then whirled to check out her new home away from home. "Whoa. Is this thing monstrous big or what? And so shiny. Ilove shiny." Admiring the tonal design that seemed to stretch forever along the bus's silver exterior, she was so focused on checking out the immense vehicle that the sudden pneumatic wheeze of its door opening startled a squeak out of her.

She guffawed. "Okay, that's embarrassing. I thought only cartoon girls seeing mice said 'eek.'" Flapping her hand dismissively as she climbed aboard, she shot a smile at Hank, who had a hip perched against the driver's seat, before continuing over her shoulder, "Still, life is good. Ain't nothin' gonna ruin my mood tonight."

"Uh, I'm sorry as can be, Peej," Hank said, "but I wouldn't be so sure about that." When she turned back to look at him in surprise, he jerked his chin toward the small lounge that began behind the partitioned driver's seat.

Turning her head to follow the direction he indicated, her gaze ran smack up against Jared, slouched down on one of the burgundy leather couch-benches. Shock ripped through her and she discovered Hank was right. Her good mood blew away like smoke in a stiff breeze. She fixed her best evil eye on the trespasser.

Not that he was looking. Long legs stretched across the aisle, his new charcoal Resistol tipped low over his eyes, he might have been sleeping for all the attention he paid. She marched over and used her toe to tap his ankle a little more forcefully than was probably necessary. "What are you doing here?"

Thumbing up the brim of his hat, Jared raised his head to look at her. Something jittered along his nerve endings when their gazes clashed and, jerking his away, he surveyed her from the rolled brim of her straw cowboy hat to the short halter-neck black dress she'd worn for her concert, paired now with a little black cashmere sweater. He studied her long, primary-colored graduated-bead necklace with its large oval pendant and the chunky red, blue and yellow bangles on her wrists, before skimming downward. He'd noticed before that she wore a lot of skirts these days and, eyes lingering for a second on her bare legs and narrow feet in their barely there red sandals, he could see why.

Slowly, he returned his gaze to her face. "Trying to figure out which bunk is mine," he said.

"Which bunk-?" It was clear that for a moment she'd either forgotten the question she'd asked or-more likely-found his reply incomprehensible. "Why would you think any bunk on this bus would be assigned to you?"

"Because Wild Wind Records told me I'd be staying with the band on the bus during the tour."

"Chickenshits didn't even bother to pass the news on to us," Eddie said as he entered the lounge from the bunk aisle on the other side of the galley.

Jared knew the comment probably wasn't aimed at him. He had already gone a couple rounds with Hank before the women arrived and was feeling a little defensive, but he got the impression Eddie had a tough time dredging up any kind of lasting interest in anything that didn't sport tits. Still, he climbed to his feet, stuffed his hands in his pockets and said, "I agree they could stand to improve their communication skills."

That was nothing short of the truth. But it was late, everybody was tired and this wasn't the time to get into it. "That's nothing to do with me, though. It's something you really should take up with them."

"Which you can be sure we'll do," Nell said, slinging a protective arm around P.J.'s shoulders and moving her back a step, making him realize for the first time how close they'd been standing. The other woman met his gaze squarely. "Seeing's how we only have your word for it that you're even supposed to be here."

Nothing like being Mr. Popular.He hitched a shoulder. "Hey, do what you have to do," he said as if he didn't give a damn. "But it would be pretty stupid of me to invent something so easily verified, don't you think?"

With a final glower, Hank turned his attention to P.J. "You want me to toss his ass off the bus until we find out what's what?"

Jared reined in the temper threatening to slip its leash, but he couldn't prevent his eyes from narrowing at the musician or taking an aggressive step closer. "You're welcome to try, champ."

Hank promptly went chest-to-chest with him and something inside Jared howled to know just what the hell P.J.'s relationship was with this clown. He'd watched through the crush of musicians and roadies at the post-concert party in that broom closet they'd called a dressing room, but he could have sworn the fiddle player had spent more time watching Nell than Peej. So why did the guy keep acting like a jealous lover?

"Knock it off, both of you," P.J. ordered, muscling between them. The heat of her shoulder and hip burned through his clothing for a second before she got a hand on his and Hank's chests and shoved them back a step. Then she stepped back herself, dividing a glare between them.

"It's bad enough that my label's treating me like an irresponsible eighteen-year-old," she snapped. "I don't need you two acting like a couple of junkyard dogs on top of it." Then she blew out a weary-sounding breath and looked at her band member. "But he's right, Hank. I suppose we should make sure WildWind authorized him to share the bus with us, but it would be beyond dumb to lie about something so easy to check-and the Jared I knew was never stupid. Besides, face it, it's their bus."

For just a second her voice held a forlorn note. Then faster than the speed of light she gave an oh well, who-the-hell-gives-a-rip shrug and turned her attention to him. "Pick whatever bunk's available after Hank and Eddie choose theirs." Turning away, she added, "Which reminds me-I'd better go grab one for myself."

"Uh-uh, girlfriend," Nell said from the front of the bus. "You get the stateroom."

P.J. jerked around to stare at her friend, then walked forward to join the other woman. "The what?"

"Stateroom, honey. As in an honest-to-gawd bedroom at the end of the bus. It's got two double beds and an actual door. With alock. " Nell grinned. "Can you say privacy? No tumbling out of a claustrophobic little enclosed bunk for you, Morgan."

"Or you, either, Husner. Two doubles sounds like a bed apiece to me." She whooped, hooked Nell around the neck and planted a smooch on her cheek. "We're outnumbered at the best of times in this biz. I say us girls gotta stick together. Oh, man, a room. I am so off to bed." She started boogying her way down the aisle with the same exuberance she'd shown when she'd first entered the bus but came to a dead stop when she reached the spot where Jared stood blocking the aisle.

He couldn't have said why he didn't get out of her way, but he stood his ground.

"Excuse me," she said politely enough, but the look in her eyes as they met his suggested she'd be pleased as punch to apply her fist to his nose. Not that she gave voice to the desire by so much as a word or inflection. "It's been a long day," she said neutrally, "and I've got a radio satellite tour scheduled to start at five a.m. So if it's all the same to you, I'd really like to catch at least a few hours' sleep."

Feeling like a bully who'd burst her balloon not once but twice tonight, he stepped aside and watched her continue down the aisle toward the rear of the bus. "What's a satellite tour?" he inquired of her back.

The stateroom door closing between them was his only reply and he turned to look at the remaining occupants.

Eddie merely said, "I'm off," and left the bus.

Hank rummaged through the compact fridge beneath the galley's counter.

"Hand me that bottle of Jack Daniels, will you, Hank?" Nell said. "I could stand a shot."

And Jared got it-he was lower than a cockroach and they couldn't be bothered to step on him, never mind talk to him. He reclaimed his spot on the bench seat.

After pouring a shot of whiskey into a stubby glass and tossing it back, however, Nell apparently decided to take pity on him, for she abruptly turned, leaned her hip against the galley counter and gave him a level look-a vast improvement over her earlier you're-the-shit-on-the-bottom-of-P.J.'s-shoe glare.

"A satellite tour is a series of radio interviews conducted over the phone via satellite," she said. "They're usually set up for the morning commute programs, which means getting up before dawn if you're on the west coast. At least Peej doesn't have any east coast ones scheduled."

"Yeah," Hank agreed. "It'd be a shame to add anything else to her burden. Between Wild Wind's insulting behavior and you playing watchdog, she's got pretty much all she can bear."

"Then maybe I should just go to bed and get out of everyone's hair."

"Well, you could do that," Hank agreed. "It'd be a damn shame, though, if you got all settled and we had to roust you out whenwe're ready to go to bed. Since you might pick one of the bunks we want."

Like there was anymight about it. Slumping down on his tailbone, he tipped the brim of his hat back down over his eyes, stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his chest, willing himself to outwait P.J.'s band members without complaint-even if God alone knew when Eddie would return.But, shit.

Just:shit.

 

THE MAN WAS DRIVINGto his job as a security guard in Iowa City when he heard Priscilla Jayne's name mentioned on the radio. Keeping one eye on the truck tailgating him down Highway 38 as he slowed for the approach to I-80, he reached over and turned up the volume.