Free Trouble In Triplicate by Barbara Boswell Page B

thoughts into words, and she suddenly felt terribly disloyal to her sisters. Why was she talking this way? And to Caine Saxon, of all people!
    "My sisters are my best friends. We have wonderful times together. We love each other very much." All the words ran together and she looked at Caine worriedly. "The bond between us is incredibly strong. I don't want you to think that I—that we . . ."
    "Juliet." He leaned across the table and took her hand. "I understand." He did, too, he realized. Somehow he understood her with a clarity that startled him.
    A wave of tenderness surged through him. He felt protective and possessive and . . . oddly fatalistic. Waterloo, he thought. Napoleon met his destiny on the fields of Belgium. His was sitting across from him in the Apple Country Inn just outside Charlottesville, Virginia. Strangely enough, the thought made him smile.
    They had almost finished dessert—apple brown Betty with whipped cream—when a loud crack of thunder was followed by an earsplitting crash. Several diners rose from their chairs and went to the windows to peer out, but it was too dark for anything to be seen. *»
    Mrs. Castle hurried into the dining room ten minutes later. "One of the giant pin oaks was struck by lightning about a quarter of a mile down the road," she announced to the diners. "It's lying across the road and has blocked it completely."
    "In which direction?" a man called out. "Toward Charlottesville or Waynesboro?"
    "Charlottesville," said Mrs. Castle. "We've called the state police to report it, but they don't think a road crew can get here tonight to clear it." She smiled. "Fortunately, nobody here will be affected. Everyone has room reservations for the night, and we'll do our best to keep you comfortable until the road is cleared sometime tomorrow."
    Juliet stared at the woman, as thunderstruck as the unfortunate pin oak. Her gaze flew to Caine's face. "I can't spend the night here!" she said breathlessly. "I have to go home!"
    Caine's expression was strangely resigned. He wondered why the news of the blocked road didn't surprise him. Somehow it seemed almost prophetic that he and Juliet would be spending the night together here. And that they would move firmly and irrevocably into the third quarter. He didn't dare quote another football metaphor to her, though, he decided as he studied her face. Her eyes were wide with apprehension and her hand was shaking as she replaced her coffee cup in its saucer.
    "Caine, we're not staying here!" Juliet fought to suppress the panic rising within her.
    "Honey, I don't think we have much of a choice," he replied calmly. "Not if there's a tree blocking the road."
    "You can drive over the branches, can't you?"
    "Drive over a giant pin oak? Are you kidding? I have a Ferrari, Juliet, not a bulldozer."
    "There must be a way to get back to Charlottesville," she insisted. "Maybe we can drive around the tree, alongside the road."
    "There are woods on either side of the road," he reminded her. "Thick, dense, uncut woods. And if you think I'm going to even attempt to drive my car through a mountain forest—in the middle of a severe storm yet!—you're out of your sweet little mind."
    Mrs. Castle came over to their table. "Is everything all right?" she asked solicitously. She was going from table to table, reassuring the guests.
    Who didn't seem to need reassurance at all, Juliet thought as she glanced around the dining room. Nobody seemed upset or anxious about being trapped here, nobody but herself. Because all the others were travelers or lovers who'd planned to spend the night here all along.
    "Is the road really impassable?" she asked the older woman.
    "I'm afraid so," Mrs. Castle replied. "My husband drove down to the site. He told me that the tree is enormous and is lying at an angle across the road. Bulletins are being issued over the Charlottesville radio stations and a patrol car has been stationed along Route 250 to prevent travelers from using the