When Ian and Joanne cross paths, their connection feels as effortless as the open road. From their matching sleek cars to their shared love of witty pop culture banter, they seem like the perfect match. Their chemistry is undeniable, setting the stage for an unforgettable adventure. But as their whirlwind romance deepens, their differences begin to surface, revealing cracks in their seemingly perfect partnership. Set against a backdrop of thrilling road trips and exotic destinations, The Arrangement is a standout in travel romance novels, weaving a story of love, self-discovery, and the unexpected detours of life. For readers who savor high-octane drama and emotional depth, this is a tale of two people navigating the joys and pains of love while tackling the kind of relationship challenges that test even the strongest connections. When an old flame from Joanne’s past resurfaces, the stakes skyrocket. The rekindled spark threatens to upend everything Ian and Joanne have built, forcing them to confront the question: Are their differences too great to overcome, or is love worth fighting for? Perfect for fans of books about relationships, The Arrangement is more than just a love story—it’s an action packed novel that deals with the exploration of passion, trust, and the moments that define us. Wayne McFall masterfully combines the thrill of the road with the complexities of the heart, creating a must-read for those who love books for car enthusiasts or crave the adrenaline of car novels paired with romance. Reminiscent of romance books like Top Gun, this gripping, action-packed novel is a tribute to the speed, risk, and excitement of life’s most unpredictable journeys. Whether you’re drawn to the pulse-pounding excitement of the racetrack or the tender moments that define true love, The Arrangement delivers a story you won’t forget. Strap in and join Ian and Joanne as they race through love’s twists and turns. Will they find their way back to each other, or will the road ahead pull them apart? The Arrangement is the perfect read for car fans, romantics, and anyone who believes that love and adventure go hand in hand.
The Arrangement
By Wayne McFallAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2010 Wayne McFall
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4490-8917-7Chapter One
The lone bare light bulb cast an eerie hue across the cobblestone floor of the old carriage house that had been converted into a four-car garage. The well-worn wooden door creaked open and a pair of red driving shoes padded past the boxy oil-embargo-era, crimson Lincoln Continental convertible to the first-generation scarlet Dodge Viper.
The morning was still cool so the man left the convertible top up as he opened the driver's side door and climbed into the car, setting his sack lunch and newspaper in the passenger side floorboard.
With a flick of the ignition the 10-cylinder engine throatily rumbled to life. The man's finger pressed the garage-door-opener button and the door opener hummed to itself as the door separated from the floor and climbed up out of the way over the man's head.
With a throbbing rumble the mighty Dodge eased out onto a 20-foot-diameter black-top plateau and rolled down the winding paved lane that led to the highway. At the bottom of the hill the man glanced at the gauges on the dash. Seeing that they had reached safe operating temperatures, he pointed the nose of the car onto the road and squeezed the accelerator. The car launched forward and was doing the posted speed limit of 70 MPH by the time the shifter was in fourth gear.
Between the growl of the wind battering the convertible top and the precision purring of the motor, along with the exhaust, he barely noticed a pair of headlights that appeared in his rear-view mirror until they were right on him. The lights flickered in his mirror, as he was about to downshift and punch the gas when the vehicle behind him eased out to pass, politely tapping the horn to make him aware.
A smirk crossed the man's face as the gearshift went down a gear, the RPM's on the tachometer jumped and the nose of his car dove into the still dark morning.
The man's smile froze after he shifted into fourth gear as the car, now beside him, did not disappear by the wayside. He glanced at the speedometer, and the needle stood at 100 MPH. The man pressed the gas and watched the needle approach 120 MPH. The other car stayed with him. He was prepared to shift when the other car boiled past him.
Shocked and surprised, the man shifted and stomped on the gas. The red missile hunkered down to the pavement and started to gain on the other car. At 135 MPH the man caught the other car and was about to return the polite horn-honk when, without any warning, the other car fell back behind the man in his lane. He shrugged and let off the accelerator, but it was too late.
Another set of headlights appeared from out of the dark, and on top of that car was a set of red and blue lights. A sick feeling, like he had just swallowed a rock, appeared in the man's chest and crashed to his tummy. He slammed his open hand on the leather-bound steering wheel in disgust as he applied the breaks and downshifted in preparation to pull over.
The first car coasted past him. He watched the taillights as they veered to the right and pulled into the gas station up ahead. The man came to a stop, and soon the Sheriff was standing at his door.
"Morning sir, where ya off to in such a hurry?"
"Work," the man answered. He handed the Sheriff his driver's license, insurance card, and a black leather folder. The Sheriff took everything and opened the folder. Inside there was a gold badge with the inscription "Honorary Deputy" and a badge number. The Sheriff nodded knowingly.
"How did you come about this sir?" he inquired politely.
"I provided bulletproof vests for Ellison County," the man explained.
"Now you understand these operate on a point basis?"
The man nodded. The Sheriff pulled out a hand-held computer and entered the amount of miles over the limit the man was driving, and the badge number. There was a pause, then he handed the man back the badge along with his license and insurance card.
"And you understand when your points are used up the badge is revoked?"
Again the man nodded.
"Thank you Mr. James, you have a nice day and drive careful," the Sheriff advised, as he turned and walked back to his cruiser.
Ian James smiled politely, nodded, and folded the leather booklet. He pressed his billfold into his back pocket. He glanced behind him, cranked the front wheels and pulled back out onto the road. Upon reaching the gas station he wheeled his car in, behind a familiar pair of taillights.
The other car, he discovered, was also red and sat at the forward pumps. The driver appeared to be sitting in the car, waiting as if it was a full-service island. Ian cut off the motor of the Viper, climbed out, and strolled up to the car. Under the well-lit canopy he could see the other car was a new Dodge Charger SRT-8. As he approached the driver's side, the power window eased down and a woman's hand reached out holding a credit card.
"Fill'er up," a smooth voice purred.
Trance-like, Ian took the card, which featured a vintage airplane, from the petite hand that had red fingernail polish and inserted it into the slot on the gas pump. He pulled the nozzle and squeezed the gallons into the tank until it was full. When he was finished he replaced the nozzle and stepped to the driver's door to return the card.
The window eased down and Ian found himself looking into the most beautiful doe-brown eyes he had ever seen, separated by a gentle round nose and flanked by straight brown hair. The woman's full red lips smiled easily at him.
"Thank you for taking the heat back there."
"How did you know?"
"Woman's intuition and a scanner wired into the radio, there's a whole other world out there," she explained, as she flicked her shoulder-length hair.
"Well, you owe me breakfast then," Ian informed her.
The woman glanced at the clock on the dashboard and spied the greasy spoon diner at the far end of the gas station lot.
"Alright," she answered good-naturedly and pointing at the diner, "it's a date."
She winked at him, rolled up the window, and pulled her car around to the diner, parking so it was facing the street. Ian, as was his practice, did likewise as he did not like backing into traffic. He had never seen a woman do that.
When he got out of the car, she was waiting for him. He walked up to her and they strode to the door. A neon sign proclaimed the diner's name was "Camille's". He pulled the door open for her and they stepped into a small lobby. A thin woman with bleached-blonde hair and crooked teeth approached them.
"This way," she ordered. Ian and the woman followed obediently to a small booth in the corner. The waitress slapped the dog-eared menus onto the worn smooth table, placed the two glasses of water from her tray onto napkins, and over her shoulder she said she would come back as she walked away.
Ian and the woman looked at each other and then at the retreating server. They each realized they did not know each other's names.
"My name is Ian, what's yours?" he asked, his hand extended as they were still standing at the table.
"Joanne," the woman answered, as she briefly squeezed his hand before they each made their way around the table; neither wanted to sit with their back to the door.
Silence.
She picked up the menu and scanned the selection. Ian did likewise, taking a swig of water as he surveyed the options.
"So, what'll it be?" the waitress boomed, startling the quiet couple.
Ian...
