Free House of the Blue Sea by Teresa van Bryce Page A

last night with Ian. Why did it have to be different spending the day with someone like Mark Jeffery? Why couldn’t she just be herself? Because he was famous? She supposed that was the reason. And there was that porcupine thing he had going on. Tiptoeing around someone never made for relaxing conversation. She brought her feet and shins back down to earth and pushed her arms forward into Child’s Pose. If only she could stay here all day.
    ***
    S andra heard a knock on the door as she was putting on her make-up, and then Paul’s voice. “Sandra, Mark is here for you. He’s waiting outside.”
    “Thank you. Tell him I’ll be right there.” Okay, here goes nothing . She’d Skyped with Trisha over breakfast and, between that and a lengthy yoga session, was feeling better prepared for her road trip with Mr. Rich and Famous. She just wanted to get through it with her self-esteem intact. Of course, Trisha had placed a whole other level of significance on the day.
    “You lucky thing, spending the day with Mr. Rochester.”
    “He’s not Mr. Rochester, Trish. He’s an aging actor with a tendency to bite heads off.”
    “Oh, you’ll cheer him up. You always do that for me when I’m in the dumps.”
    “Yes, but I feel comfortable with you. With him I’m worried I’ll say exactly the thing that will set him off.”
    “Well set him off then. Maybe he needs a good rant to get it out of his system.”
    “I’d rather not, thanks. I thought he was going to come at me from across the table yesterday morning.”
    “Just don’t get him all riled up when he’s behind the wheel. Wait until you’re sitting somewhere.”
    “Oh, I don’t plan to be sitting anywhere with him. We’re driving in together and when we get to La Paz I’ll be going my own way until it’s time to head home.”
    “If only I could inhabit your body for a few hours.” Trisha closed her eyes and let out a sigh through her upturned nose. “What a different day it would be.”
    Having Trisha inhabit her body for the day wasn’t a terrible idea. But, with the laws of nature against that happening, Sandra inhaled deeply, grabbed her bag, and regretfully left the serenity of her room behind.
    ***
    “H ola , Señorita.” Mark was leaning on the hood of a cobalt blue BMW convertible. “Your chariot awaits.”
    Although still bearded, today he was looking more like Mark Jeffery from the big screen, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “Isn’t this a little fancy for Baja roads?” she asked.
    “Admittedly, yes, I have discovered it’s not entirely practical for dirt roads, but it’s got great suspension and it’s only five miles to the pavement.” He went around the car and opened the passenger door. “Hop in and I’ll show you how a BMW handles these goat trails they call roads down here.”
    She couldn’t deny it was a gorgeous vehicle. She slid into the soft leather bucket and pulled the seat belt over her shoulder. As he climbed in beside her his cologne met her nostrils, something spicy and very masculine. Oh boy.
    “Are you okay with the top down?”
    “Sure, why not. Curly hair doesn’t look much different when it’s windblown.” And maybe the noise will make for a conversation-free journey.
    Mark started the engine and she could feel its power as soon as he put it into gear, very different from her hybrid SUV. She wondered how much fuel it burned.
    “I’ll put the windows up for more quiet; that way we can chat.” Mark grinned at her as he pressed the button and the small tinted sheets of glass rose up out of the doors.
    ***
    T hey were nearing the sea again; she could feel the change in the air and taste the salt on her lips. Forty minutes had passed quickly. Mark seemed to be in a particularly good mood, or at least on good behaviour, and Sandra was trying to keep the conversation light. Weather, San Leandro, Paul—they all seemed to be safe topics.
    “So where is it you need to go?” he glanced toward her, his