Last Night's Kiss by Shirley Hailstock

in his head. Knowing this was a different experience for him, Adam didn’t consider stopping. He deepened the kiss, his hands running long, slow strokes down her back, gathering her closer, caressing her, feeling her muscles contract and relax under his touch. It aroused him just to feel her, smell the exotic scent of her hair and body.
    Suddenly he lifted his head, breaking contact as if they’d been forced to separate.
    Adam wanted to hold her, to put her head on his shoulder and stand like this for the rest of the day. But logic caught up with him. He stepped back, putting some distance between them. He wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her. He’d wanted to kiss her since she came off the plane, looking tired and worn. She no longer looked like that. Her face was healthy, her eyes drowsy, and he could think of nothing other than the huge bed in the loft and carrying her up the stairs.
    But this was wrong. She was the wrong woman.
     
    The thought of taking a jacket occurred to Rosa when she left the house. After Adam’s exit, she couldn’t stay there. Her mind kept replaying the kiss, the feel of his arms around her, the imprint of his body aligned with hers. She got in the car and started driving. She would have gone to Vida’s, but her friend would have known something had changed and within minutes Rosa would have been pouring out all the details.
    So she headed the car away from Adam and let the engine take her as far as it would go without leaving the state. She was in the mountains. The air was thin. She’d forgotten how far above sea level she was. Her lungs labored to maintain breath. Rosa stopped and looked out. The scenery was awesome. Dark mountains in the distance were as imposing in height as the Grand Canyon was in depth. Slipping out of the car, Rosa leaned against a boulder.
    She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Instantly Adam’s image surfaced against her closed lids. She could see his face coming toward her, blurring as it lowered to kiss her. Her body went hot against the chill in the air. Her eyes flew open, and she pushed herself away from the rock. She swallowed to wet her throat and took several deep breaths.
    Rosa remained there until she started to shiver. She walked back through the paths to the place she’d left the shiny new car. Starting the engine, she turned on the heater to dispel the coldness that seemed to seep into her bones. It was irresponsible to come out without a jacket and drive into the hills. Rosa hadn’t been thinking rationally at the time. She was running, getting away from Adam and the memory of the scene in her living room.
    The Corvette drove like a dream. Being raised with older brothers had its rewards. They’d taught her about cars. The four-hundred-horsepower engine with 542 foot-pounds of torque purred with the smoothness of water running down a straight glass pane. Rosa sped along the road, the speedometer needle well past the limit. With the top down, the wind ripped her hair back from her face.
    She gave it no thought. The radio blared a country-western song and she belted out the lyrics as if she were on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry.
    She was almost home when she saw a truck parked along the side of the road. It had pulled over, too far over, she thought. In fact, the pitch of the truck must have been forty degrees off normal. She slowed down. Usually she would have passed it without a backward thought. She was a woman alone and while she could defend herself, there was no need courting danger. But this wasn’t one of the major crime capitals of the world. This was Waymon Valley where crime was low and people helped each other.
    As she was passed the truck, she saw a man inside. He was slumped against the steering wheel. She recognized him. Stopping, Rosa jumped from the car, not bothering to stop the engine or close the door. She ran back to the truck and pulled at the door. It was locked. Tapping on the window, she called to the man inside. Slowly