Читать книгу: «The Pregnant Virgin»
Dear Reader,
If you liked You’re What?!, you’ll love The Pregnant Virgin!
So many of you wrote requesting encore appearances from some of your favorite characters in my first two books—notably, the matchmaking septuagenarians Millie and Hazel—that I thought it was time to invite them (and a few others) back.
At Midtown Hospital in Detroit, love is right under the noses of our hero and heroine, Dr. Brad Darling and Ali Celeste, but it takes a little nudge from Millie and Hazel to make them see it and later believe that they can overcome the obstacles that threaten to keep them apart. One of those obstacles is the fact that Ali visits a sperm bank and then turns up pregnant after telling the hero that she’s a virgin. Now, what man wouldn’t have his doubts?
I hope you enjoy this one. I had a lot of fun writing it.
As always, I love hearing from you and welcome your letters.
Warmest regards,
Anne Eames
You may write to Anne Eames c/o:
4217 Highland Road, Box #252
Waterford, MI 48328
For a response and an autographed doorknob hanger,
please include a #10 self-addressed stamped envelope.
Dear Reader,
Spring is in the air…and so is romance. Especially at Silhouette, where we’re celebrating our 20th anniversary throughout 2000! And Silhouette Desire promises you six powerful, passionate, provocative love stories every month.
Fabulous Anne McAllister offers an irresistible MAN OF THE MONTH with A Cowboy’s Secret. A rugged cowboy fears his darkest secret will separate him from the beauty he loves.
Bestselling author Leanne Banks continues her exciting miniseries LONE STAR FAMILIES: THE LOGANS with a sexy bachelor doctor in The Doctor Wore Spurs. In A Whole Lot of Love, Justine Davis tells the emotional story of a full-figured woman feeling worthy of love for the first time.
Kathryn Jensen returns to Desire with another wonderful fairy-tale romance, The Earl Takes a Bride. THE BABY BANK, a brand-new theme promotion in Desire in which love is found through sperm bank babies, debuts with The Pregnant Virgin by Anne Eames. And be sure to enjoy another BRIDAL BID story, which continues with Carol Devine’s Marriage for Sale, in which the hero “buys” the heroine at auction.
We hope you plan to usher in the spring season with all six of these supersensual romances, only from Silhouette Desire!
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
The Pregnant Virgin
Anne Eames
MILLS & BOON
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To my newfound family—
Lynne, Ken, Barbara and Keri—
who made me feel right at home.
ANNE EAMES
has been a Golden Heart finalist and Maggie winner, and her books have appeared on the USA Today bestseller list. This is her eighth novel for Desire.
Anne and her husband, Bill, live in southeastern Michigan with their pampered pooch, Punkin.
You may write to Anne Eames at: 4217 Highland Road, Box #252, Waterford, MI 48328. For an autographed doorknob hanger, please enclose a #10, self-addressed, stamped envelope.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
One
“You’re what!”
“I’m going to have a baby,” Ali Celeste repeated, enjoying the shocked expression on her sister Lynne’s face.
“But how did—I mean…I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend!” Lynne looked as though she might hyperventilate at any second, so Ali put an end to the ruse.
“I said ‘I’m going to.’ I didn’t say I am.” She ate the last of her salad and pushed her plate aside.
Lynne leaned back in her chair, tapped her fingers against her chest and scanned the crowded cafeteria of Detroit’s Midtown Hospital. Probably checking for eavesdroppers, Ali thought, unable to keep her smile in check.
“It’s not funny,” Lynne said, trying to sound annoyed, but her smile betrayed her. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Why’s that?” As if she didn’t know.
“Pregnant out of wedlock? Mom would roll over in her grave.”
Ali laughed at her sister’s choice of words. “Wedlock? Sounds like something out of the Middle Ages.”
Lynne looked from side to side before she spoke. “Yeah, well, the principle still applies.” She punctuated her point by pushing the last bite of sandwich into her mouth and shooting Ali her best frustrated-big-sister glare.
Ali averted her gaze to the novel sitting next to her plate and waited for Lynne to calm down. If only she could find a hero like the ones in her books. She sighed and wondered if she would have time to read a few more pages before her lunch hour was over.
Lynne tossed her napkin down and leaned her elbows on the table. “I thought you told me you were determined to be a virgin for Mr. Right.”
“Yep. That’s still the plan.”
Looking more confused than ever, Lynne asked, “What are you up to, Alexis Marie?”
“Well, you know I work at the fertility clinic…”
“Of course, but what’s—” Her eyebrows shot up and her eyes grew round. “No! You don’t mean…”
“Why not? Maybe I can get some free samples.” She knew this wasn’t the case, but she was having too much fun teasing her sister.
“Get serious, Ali. Why would you want to use a sperm bank? You’re still in your twenties.”
“Not for as long as I’d like. And next month I can chalk up another year.”
“Is that what this is all about? Birthday blues?”
Ali shook her head. “I never would have guessed I’d be this old and not even engaged. And don’t give me that ‘you’re just a baby’ look.”
“But you are. You have lots of time left.”
Did she? She used to think so. She stared at the blue painted ductwork overhead, and in her mind’s eye years of fantasies paraded by—images of a strong yet sensitive man sweeping her off her feet. Not taking care of her, she reminded herself. Completing her was more like it. She could almost see his face, at least his eyes. They were always intense, sincere. And oh, so full of love for her.
She glanced back at the cover model on her book.
Ah, yes. Just like that.
She mentally shook off the image and faced her sister again. “No offense, sis, but you and Ken thought you had a lot of time and look how long it took you to conceive.” Ali leaned forward, deciding it was time to make her case. She didn’t need her sister’s approval, yet the months to come would be much easier if she could make Lynne understand.
“Lynne, you were nearly forty when you finally got pregnant. Remember the years of anxiety you went through, not to mention a chunk of money for treatments?”
Lynne nodded reluctantly. “How can I forget? If it weren’t for Mom’s estate I’d still be paying off loans…not that I’m complaining. Little Keri is worth every penny.”
“I agree.” She picked up her iced tea and pictured her two-year-old niece’s kissable cheeks and smiled. If she loved Keri this much, how would she feel about a child of her own? As far back as she could remember she had delighted in playing with little ones.
No, there was no doubt in her mind that she was doing the right thing. She’d be a fool to wait for some fantasy man with dreamy eyes. Besides, what were the odds she would ever find one?
She set her glass down decidedly. It was time to take matters into her own hands, and she could sense her sister was weakening.
“Let’s not forget Barbara. She wasn’t as fortunate as you. Little Timmy is adorable and as loved as any child, but we both know adoption was her last resort when all else failed.”
Lynne reached across the table for Ali’s hand. “Sweetie, just because we had trouble doesn’t mean you will.”
“True. But I don’t want to wait until the eleventh hour to find out. Besides, I haven’t met a decent guy in over a year. In a blink of an eye I’ll be thirty and still telling jerks to take a hike. Please, will you try to understand? I’d really like your support on this.” Ali held her sister’s gaze, hoping to telegraph just how serious she was about her decision.
Lynne squeezed Ali’s hand, then on a long sigh, she let go and nodded slowly. “I can see you’ve made up your mind, so if it’s my blessing you’re looking for, you’ve got it.”
It was all Ali could do not to let out a hoot and rush around the table to hug her sister. “Thanks, Lynne. It means a lot to me.” She slouched in her chair, realizing she’d been holding her breath.
“Whew! I’m sure glad that’s out in the open.” She fanned a napkin across her face. “Now, what do you think Barbara will say?”
“Probably the same as I did. She’ll put up a fuss before she acquiesces. Neither one of us has ever been able to say no to you, baby sister, and you know that.”
Baby sister—that was the problem. At times she even wondered if her overpowering desire to have a child of her own was so everyone would stop viewing her this way. They always thought of her as a baby, even though she’d lived on her own for seven years now and had done all right for herself. Except in the men department. They were still an enigma.
She drank more tea and decided it was time for a new subject.
“Speaking of Barbara, any word about Tom’s transfer back to Detroit?”
“She’d hoped before Christmas, but last time we talked she said it looked more like spring. I hope nothing slows things up again. We were kinda counting on doing some sort of job share. Something where I’d keep the little ones every other week while she worked and vice versa.”
Maybe they could help with her little one, too, Ali thought. She would need reliable child care if she decided to return to work later. Fortunately her inheritance gave her the option.
Lynne glanced around the room, then leaned closer and whispered, “Have you even bothered to look around this hospital? Look at all the good-looking young men in this room alone. They can’t all be married or undesirables.”
Ali sighed, frustrated that “The Search,” as it had come to be called, was again the topic of discussion. Reluctantly she scanned the area, not paying close attention. Good looks didn’t mean much to her, anyway. And if the guy happened to be a doctor, there was a good chance he had a God complex. Experience had proven that point. If he was good-looking, too, forget it. He would probably have an ego the size of Saturn.
But Lynne had different ideas.
“Check out the tall, blond guy in the middle booth.”
With a roll of her eyes, Ali looked. “He’s got to be six-five if he’s an inch. Just what I need. Someone fifteen inches taller than me. I get a stiff neck thinking about it.”
“Okay,” Lynne said, not sounding deterred. “What about the studious one in the corner…the one with the wire-rimmed glasses?”
“He’s gay.”
“Really?”
“No.” She laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe he is.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Look, kiddo, do you think we could drop The Search…at least for today?” Lynne crossed her arms, resignation not being her strong suit, and Ali changed the subject. “Are you and Ken going to the Michigan-Michigan State game this weekend?”
Lynne shook her head slowly, looking somewhat annoyed. “Ken has to work. Wanna go?”
“Are you serious?” The game was one of the biggest rivalries of the football season and the weatherman predicted temperatures in the eighties, unusual for mid-September in Michigan. “You bet I do…assuming you won’t try fixing me up with some guy in the stands. Especially if he’s a doctor.”
“This is still about Dad, isn’t it? Come on, Ali. Let it go. So he was a jerk who just happened to be a doctor. That doesn’t make them all bad.”
“I might have agreed with you if I hadn’t worked for that obnoxious group of surgeons at my last job.” At least at her current job, doctor contact was minimal.
“Got a postcard from Dad last month,” Lynne went on. “He and Tinkerbell are in Tahiti.”
Ali was surprised he was still with his toy bride. When he left her mom more than a dozen years ago for someone younger than Barbara and Lynne, Ali was sure it wouldn’t last. It must be his money, she decided.
As young as Ali had been at the time, she could still remember how often her father had said this or that patient needed him, that he had to work late. While all along he was…
Poor Mom. Ali wondered again if Mom would be alive today if Dad hadn’t broken her heart. She shivered and hugged herself.
“Doctors are the scum of the earth,” she said, more for her own benefit than her sister’s. “A necessary evil, maybe, but I wouldn’t trust one any farther than I could throw him.”
Lynne shot Ali a derisive look before searching the room one last time. “Ooh, ooh. Table at four o’clock, just sitting down.”
Ali turned slowly, prepared for another glib remark…until she spotted him. Even in green scrubs his body looked hard and fit, well-worked muscles peeking from beneath short sleeves. Handsome didn’t quite describe him. Yet the singular feature that held her attention was his eyes—so blue that even at a distance she couldn’t miss them. He brushed a stray lock of jet-black hair off his forehead, then opened a napkin across his lap.
She was still watching when a second man joined the table. He said something as he sat down and the first man laughed aloud, dimples showing on either side of his drop-dead gorgeous smile.
“Well, well,” Lynne said, bringing Ali’s attention back to their own table. “You’re not immune, after all.” Then she chuckled. “Honestly, Ali, if you could see yourself. Sometimes I think you read too many of those romance novels.” She pointed to Ali’s book. “I can’t tell you how many times I catch you with this faraway dreamy look on your face.”
Ali hid behind her iced tea, feeling heat travel up her neck. What was the matter with her? Sitting here gawking at a total stranger. She set the glass down and said, “So…what’s new with my favorite niece? Tell me everything.”
Lynne smiled smugly before answering the question.
Ali knew she’d dodged a bullet this time, but she also knew that sooner or later The Search would crop up again.
“You’re what!”
“Keep your voice down.” Brad Darling glanced around the cafeteria, grateful no one seemed to have noticed his friend’s overreaction.
“You heard me right.” He pushed the stubborn stray hair off his forehead a second time.
“But why would you do…that?” Craig talked around the side of his juice glass as if he feared a lipreader at the next table.
Brad chuckled softly. “Because it’s quick, easy, and pays really well, that’s why. We weren’t all born with a silver spoon in our mouth like you, Craig.”
“How many times have you…done it?” Craig asked. “For science, I mean,” he added with a rueful smile.
“Actually, today will be my first. There’s a fertility clinic in the professional wing next door. I’m going as soon as I finish this sandwich.” He took a healthy bite and wondered if he’d been wise to confide in his friend. Confidentiality didn’t concern him, yet the questions were bound to come. And they did.
“Aren’t you afraid someone will recognize you?”
“For Pete’s sake,” he said, wiping his face with a napkin. “You make it sound like I’m about to commit adultery.”
“But you’ve got a reputation to maintain. You are a doctor—”
“Just barely.”
“Okay, so we’re lowly residents. Still—”
“Look, I’m sure as hell not going over there wearing scrubs or a white jacket with my name on the breast pocket. I’ll change first, go outside, then come in the separate entrance to the clinic. If someone sees me—” he shrugged “—they see me. But I don’t plan to advertise.”
Craig laughed. “Good thing. I can hear the jokes already. ‘Did ya hear about Brad’s trips to the sperm bank? Yeah, I hear he’s making money hand over fist’.”
“Very funny,” Brad said, taking the last bite of his corned beef on rye before standing. “I gotta run. Catch ya later.”
“I’d say ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’ but—”
“I won’t,” Brad said, picking up his tray. “Since I’m getting paid for it.” He left Craig laughing and shaking his head as he strode out.
Brad wished he felt as self-assured and laid-back about the subject as he sounded. In truth, his sandwich was lodged in his chest and he could feel beads of perspiration forming on his brow. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d made out.
Craig was right about one thing, though. The hospital grapevine would eat this one up if it got wind of it. He’d just have to be careful and make sure no one saw him.
Two
It was ten to one when Ali tossed her purse into her desk drawer and eagerly opened her novel. She tucked the book safely from view behind the tall countertop and continued where she had left off.
She knew tonight would be the night. A fire crackled in the open hearth; candles flickered on every surface. He lifted his champagne flute to hers.
“To the love of my life,” he said, his eyes burning as bright as the fire, his gaze so intense she felt weak with love and desire.
He set his glass down and took her in his arms, his eyes riveted on her mouth, his lips inching closer until—
“Darling,” Ali heard, still in a daze.
“Yes-ss,” she drawled, her eyes hooded as she slowly lifted her head.
“Brad Darling? I have an appointment?”
Ali stared at the handsome face, stunned for a moment to see the one and same man she’d been ogling in the cafeteria.
“Y-yes. Of course,” she said, slamming her book closed and reaching for the top folder on the stack next to her. But when she glanced up again he flashed her his toothy smile and she could have sworn the air conditioning had stopped working.
Quickly she looked away and skimmed the contents of his file. “I see you’ve done all the preliminary work. Looks like everything’s in order.” Keeping her head down, she opened her appointment book. “How often do you plan to come?”
“Excuse me?”
“Once a week? Once a month?”
“Oh.”
She heard him exhale and she thought he must be nervous. Not unusual. Especially for first-timers.
“Uh—” he tapped on the counter “—let’s say once a week.”
Eyes still down, she asked, “Is this day and time good for you?”
“Yes, yes. Fine.”
“If you’ll have a seat, someone will be with you shortly.”
Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he passed her desk. His jeans were worn and tight, and she decided she liked this look better than the scrubs, although both packages were spectacular.
Damn. Why was she playing this game? After all, she was critical of guys who leered after women simply for their looks. Besides, she would never go out with someone who worked at the hospital. Especially not a doctor who probably thought he was God.
Aha! Now it all made sense. He was here in hopes of making little Gods—his contribution to mankind.
She pushed out of her chair and stuck the folder labeled “Darling, Brad” in the rack beside the closed door, admonishing herself for such shallow musings. Hopefully the technician would come out soon and usher the guy away.
But for some reason there was a delay and she heard Doctor Boy approach a while later. He stopped at the side of her desk and flashed her his Brad Pitt dimpled smile.
“Sorry to bother you. Any idea how much longer? I have to get back to work.”
If his hair was blond he could double for her favorite actor, she mused, his question taking a beat to register. “Um…let me go find out what the holdup is.” She stood, but he didn’t back up, giving her little room to navigate. She stared at a dark tuft of chest hair peeking above the second button of his light blue shirt and waited for him to move. He stood there riveted and she let her eyes drift up to his.
Big mistake.
Too blue. Too intense.
The door to the back opened and they both turned toward it.
“Darling?” the technician asked.
“Yes,” he said, then smiled at Ali one last time before he walked away.
Ali heaved a sigh and sat down. The book caught her eye, and she immediately grabbed it and opened the desk drawer. With one last look at the bare-chested hero on the cover, she shoved it into her purse. Maybe her sister had been right. At the very least, this wasn’t the best place to read a romance novel.
Fortunately the phone rang, then other clients arrived, and Ali suddenly found herself very busy.
But when “Darling, Brad” sheepishly passed her desk a while later and headed for the exit, her gaze followed him.
And in that instant a seed of an idea began to take root.
Brad walked briskly around the exterior of the sprawling complex, muttering under his breath. What had gotten into him back there? Flirting with her like that. The last thing he needed was a personal relationship with someone who worked at the sperm bank he planned to visit every week.
Real discreet, guy. Real discreet.
He yanked open a back door and strode inside. So what if she’s a knockout and built like a brick—
Forget it. Forget her.
He picked up his pace to the lounge and his locker. She could be the star of “Baywatch” with a Mensa IQ and it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t have time for a social life. At least not until his residency was over, and even then he would be hard-pressed to foot the tab for dinner and a movie.
With no one in sight he quickly changed back into his aqua scrubs, trying not to dwell on how long it would take him to repay one hundred and twenty thousand dollars in student loans.
Still, as the day progressed, Brad’s worries about money were replaced by the image of the woman in the clinic. He would see a patient with blond hair and it would remind him of hers—long, thick and silky-looking. He wondered what it would feel like and how she would look with it mussed and falling in her face. Sometimes he’d catch himself and redirect his thoughts. Other times he’d simply smile and go with the flow.
When things slowed around midnight, he found an empty bed and settled in for a short nap. As usual the day had been long and grueling and he was beat. With a weary sigh he closed his eyes. And there she was again.
Ali called Michelle Singleton, a computer consultant who had helped her get the position at the clinic. She’d met Michelle at her previous job where the team of arrogant doctors had used Michelle’s services. When Michelle gave notice that she wouldn’t be working for them any longer, Ali asked Michelle’s help in getting her out, too. A close friendship had been developing ever since.
As luck would have it, Michelle was free for lunch and she agreed to meet Ali in the cafeteria.
Ali arrived a few minutes early and staked out the same table she’d used with her sister the day before, except this time she sat on the opposite side. She tried to lie to herself as to why she did this, but she knew the truth. People were creatures of habit. Maybe that handsome creature would sit at his same table, too, and this way she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to watch him.
Michelle placed her tray on the table a moment later and sat down. “How’s the new job going?”
“Great. I owe you one.”
The table behind Michelle remained empty and the women ate and made small talk until Ali finally worked up enough courage to broach the reason for getting together.
“There’s something personal I’d like to ask you, but if you’d rather not discuss it, I’ll understand.”
Michelle wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat back. “I can’t imagine what would be so private, but fire away.”
“Your insemination,” Ali said, not beating around the bush. Michelle had confided her own trip to the clinic a few years ago. Now Ali wanted more details.
“Oh, that.” Michelle leaned forward and lowered her voice. “No problem. What do you want to know?”
Before Ali answered the question she said that her mind was made up to do it and that she’d already been to another clinic for a complete physical and work-up.
“Good idea. If I had to do it over I wouldn’t have used the hospital’s clinic, either. Too much breach of confidentiality risk.” Michelle whispered, “So this is why you were so interested in that job! Smart girl—learning all about things first. But do I detect a little reservation in your voice?”
“It’s going to sound silly—”
“No, go ahead.”
“The father. Didn’t it bother you that you didn’t even have a face or—” Brad Darling sat down at the table behind Michelle and Ali stopped midsentence.
“Yes, it did,” Michelle said.
Ali watched as he began to read a stack of papers he’d brought with him, apparently not noticing her. Ali ducked behind Michelle and picked up her water glass, wishing again that maintenance would do something about the air. It was stifling.
“—so that’s why I looked for a fantasy man.”
Ali looked at Michelle, hoping she hadn’t missed much. “Fantasy man?”
Michelle laughed and pushed away her plate. “It sounds pathetic, but every store I went into I looked at picture frames hoping to find just the right model’s face behind the glass—someone who could seem real to me—the kind of man I’d be attracted to and go out with if given the chance.”
“Did you ever find one?”
Michelle smiled. “Not in a picture frame. I met Kevin on a cruise—one that left the same day I was inseminated. And as they say, the rest is history.”
Ali peeked around Michelle and caught “Darling” Brad staring at her, those damnable blue eyes boring into her, and she felt a pink tinge travel up her neck. He didn’t smile or acknowledge her in any way. Maybe he was trying to remember where he’d seen her before. Or maybe he knew exactly where and that was the problem.
“Ali? Are you okay?”
“Uh…sure. Fine.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Just off in la-la land. I do that sometimes.”
“Overactive imagination?”
“Something like that.”
“Was that all you wanted to ask me?”
Was there anything else? Only one thing came to mind.
“I don’t mean to sound like a wuss, but did it hurt?”
“More than I had anticipated, but not too bad…and it’s over rather fast. A lot faster than the other end of the process, believe me. I’m sure you’ll hear enough of those stories when your time comes.”
When her time came. Not if. Michelle believed it would happen. Ali hoped she was right and that her sisters’ problems wouldn’t plague her, too. Over Michelle’s shoulder she saw Blue Eyes leave the room, papers under his arm, empty tray in front of him. He had a confident yet not cocky gait, and again she noticed his narrow waist, long, lean legs and sinewy arms. And he had to be smarter than the average bear in his profession. Good genes, she thought. What more could she hope for?
“Do you have a time table in mind?”
He disappeared around the corner and Ali gave Michelle her full attention. She hadn’t even told her sisters this, but Michelle had been so forthright it seemed okay to do. Besides, she’d been dying to tell someone. Who better than a trusted friend who’d been there?
Still she felt herself blush when she said, “Actually…any day now.”
Michelle reached for her hand and squeezed it. “That’s wonderful, Ali. I wish you luck. I know this is a very private matter for you, but if you ever want to talk again, I’m more than willing to meet you anytime. Just call.”
“Thank you. I will.” It was good to talk with someone outside the family who didn’t see her as a child. Even though Michelle was closer to Lynne and Barbara’s ages, she had never treated Ali as anything other than a peer.
They walked slowly to the tray deposit area and Ali was tempted to tell Michelle more—how she thought she had found the perfect fantasy father. But in the end she decided some things were better kept to one’s self.
After work, in the privacy of her apartment, Ali went to her desk and found the long list of potential donors from the Midwest data bank. Retrieving her planner from her purse, she flipped to the memo section and read Brad’s file number that she had jotted down at work. With fingers trembling she scanned the donor pages, searching for the unique number. On page five she found it. Next to it read: five-foot ten inches, 175 pounds, blue eyes—oh, yes, very blue eyes, she remembered—and black hair. Field of work: medicine.
Before she could change her mind, she raced into the kitchen and dialed the cross-town clinic. When the secretary answered the phone, Ali read her selection in a shaky voice and said to expect her later in the week, probably Thursday or Friday. She was assured all would be ready and waiting.
But it wasn’t until Saturday morning, the day of the football game, that Ali discovered the time was right. She’d tested herself twice and come up with the same results both times: she was finally ovulating. Fortunately it was only 6:00 a.m. The clinic opened at seven. There was still time to make the game if she hurried. She called and said she was on her way.
Traffic was light as she drove I75 north to Royal Oak and she was making good time. Her stomach grumbled from lack of food, but there was no way she could eat. Her heart felt as though it were racing to keep up with the speedometer.
