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watched him elevated the front of the vehicle with the jack. As he pried the hubcap off and loosened the lug nuts, sweat broke out and soon coated his back, staining his navy blue t-shirt.
    Vivian joined her. “If we flew, this wouldn’t have happened.”
    Clarisse murmured something noncommittal. John slid the torn tire from the axle.
    Pulling his shirt over his head, he tossed it on the hood of the Explorer. The corded muscles of his chest and stomach flexed and rippled with the movement. Sweat glistened over each hollow and curve of his evenly tanned skin. Her stomach tightened. She looked away and found Vivian watching her. Heat crept beneath Clarisse’s cheeks.
    “I thought you told me there isn’t anything between the two of you.”
    Clarisse gave a husky laugh. “There isn’t.”
    Vivian snorted. “Come off it,” she hissed. “I saw the way you were looking at him.” At Clarisse’s raised eyebrow, Vivian shook her head. “Fine. Pretend whatever you want. It’s not like anything’s going to come of it. Not when I’m around. I didn’t talk John into taking me on this stinking trip for nothing.”
    Clarisse felt her face redden in anger. “You have no right talking to me like that,” she retorted in a lowered voice, mindful of John yards away. “And what do you mean by ‘talking John into taking you’?”
    “Nothing.” What looked like uneasiness flashed in Vivian’s eyes. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said what I did.” She raised her hand in supplication, though her apology sounded as if it had been forced from her lips.
    Clarisse started to say something but then stopped. No. She better keep silent. They still had a long journey ahead of them.
    Vivian put her thumbs in her pockets, looked down and kicked a stone by her foot. A cloud of red hair swirled around her as she turned back to Clarisse and smiled stiffly. “I’ve never been one for car trips. They’ve always been a killer for me.”
    “It’s done,” John called out, “but the spare is one of those down-sized factory types.” He wiped his bare torso with his shirt, missing a line of sweat that slid along the column of his neck. “It’s more like a Band-Aid than anything else. We’ll have to stop off in St. Louis and replace it with a normal tire.”
    Clarisse ignored Vivian’s disgruntled sigh.
    “While I’m at the store waiting around for a new one, you can get your dress for the wedding, Vivian,” John added as he walked over to them. “This way we can save some time instead of all of us waiting around. Clarisse might want to join you.”
    “Well, I was kinda hoping to find a dress at a store like Neiman Marcus or Saks. I don’t know if they have one in the city.” Vivian gave John a weak smile.
    “If you think I’m going to hunt around the city for a certain store and waste half a day, think again,” John retorted in exasperation. “Here’s your opportunity, but you need to be quick about it. You can take it or wait till San Diego.”
    “Fine.” Vivian’s chin trembled. “Clarisse can keep me company.”
    Clarisse envisioned herself walking through aisle after aisle of clothing and knew she couldn’t do it physically. Yet being alone John held little appeal. “I don’t think I can handle a couple of hours of shopping. Not with a sprained ankle. I think I should stay with John.”
    Vivian’s gaze narrowed. “I bet you do.”
    Raising her chin, Clarisse glared back. Her hands tingled with the urge to do bodily harm, but she refrained and said instead, “You can bet whatever you want. It matters little to me.”
    “Don’t either one of you start.” John glowered at the both of them. “Because I’m not dealing with a personality conflict on this trip. I’ve got enough problems without the two of you adding to it.” He turned his back and walked away.
    He was right, Clarisse hated to admit. She needed to focus on getting to San Diego. Nothing else mattered.
    After he donned a fresh shirt, they