"I had the flu just before I was sired," he said, trying to sound sympathetic as they zoomed down the freeway. "It sucked."

She only nodded. "I do not have the flu. Are you sure you are driving the speed limit?"

Definitely not. "No one ever gets pulled over in Pennsylvania ," he assured her.

"I would not know. I have never broken the law here before," she chided, leaning forward to fiddle with the dials on the radio. "Can we listen to something that is not so violent sounding?"

Max frowned. He'd had the classic rock station on since they'd crossed the Ohio border, but the signal had begun to fade. Still, he didn't want to end up listening to some late-night, lonely-hearts-sappy-dedication hour, either. "I wouldn't call Tom Petty violent sounding, but if you can find something else, go for it Just no chick music."

"Chick music?" Amusement colored her voice, and when he took his eyes from the road for a second he saw a smile bend her mouth.

"Yeah, chick music. Alanis Morisette, Fionna Apple," he shuddered. "Tori Amos."

Bella laughed and turned her attention back to the radio.

This is nice, he decided. Driving along as though they were on a road trip, not a suicide mission. Teasing each other like old friends. Holding her as she drifted to sleep wearing his T-shirt.

This is too nice. What the hell was he doing, letting his defenses down so she could wedge herself into his life? What if she got hurt? What if she hurt him?

It was all the time he'd spent listening to Carrie's love woes over Nathan. Somehow, he'd let himself be talked into needing a relationship. God, the word used to hold as much appeal for him as audit or classical music. Now it caused an ache in his chest and a sudden need to touch Bella. It didn't matter how, as long as he could assure himself of her physical presence.

He cleared his throat. "There's some Carol King in the CD case under the seat. Tapestry. And if you tell anyone, I won't hesitate to kill you."

Bella laughed again. He heard her shuffling as she looked for the CDs, then the click of the disk as she put it in the portable player. She turned the volume down as "I Feel the Earth Move" started, and she placed her hand on his knee. "I like your chick music."

"With my bare hands," he warned playfully.