“Stop it. I can’t handle bossy before I had my second cup of coffee. It might make me do crazy things, like asking you to back me up against the door some more.”

He blinks. “Were you messing with me on purpose?”

“Maybe.” I slip into the coat he’s still holding out, fastening my buttons. “Turns out it’s a bad idea before I’ve had my second coffee. Just can’t handle all the testosterone.”

I’m half turned to him when he tips my chin upward with his thumb.

“Careful, Alice. I remember how you felt coming on my tongue, and I can’t wait to do it again. You keep egging me on and we’ll never even make it to the car.”

Oh man, man, man! A gasp tumbles from my lips as heat strums through me like a lightning bolt. I’m unable to form a comeback, neither witty nor seductive. How can he talk to me like this and expect me not to spontaneously combust? He should come with a warning label, or I should always have a glass of ice water when he’s around.

Letting go of me, he takes my suitcase again, gesturing for me to lead the way.

Once outside, I have to admit, the coat is a good idea. It’s very chilly for July.

Five minutes later, we’re all set to go. He guns the engine, and as the car lurches forward, a loud ringtone echoes around us. Nate reaches in the holder between the seats, glancing at the screen once before swiping to answer. A female voice fills the space, and I realize his phone is connected to the sound system of the car.

“I’ve checked with the hotel, and they promised they’ll have the meeting room ready one hour earlier,” she says. Her voice is nasally, as if she’s fighting a bad cold.

“Thanks, Clara.”

Her name rings a bell, and I remember Pippa telling me she had lunch with her a few times.

“Really sorry I can’t make it. When I woke up, I realized I’m too much of a mess to go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry. And take care of yourself,” Nate replies with a smile.

“I will. By the way, a request came through from the London office. They asked if you have time to look over the script changes Abbott suggested for this season.”

“Why?”

“My guess is they’re not happy with what they have. I still can’t believe they put Abbott in charge.”

I take a furtive look at Nate, my heart in my throat. It’s been there ever since Clara mentioned London. His smile is gone now, and his jaw ticks. “Sure, e-mail it to me. I’ll look over it this weekend and send my comments.”

“Good, I’ll forward it right away. I’m going to have the phone next to me, but at the rate I’m going, I’ll probably be asleep most of the time. Damn fever.”

“Forget about the phone. In fact, if I get a call or an e-mail from you, we’re going to have a problem. Just rest.”

“Sure, boss. Have fun.”

She hangs up and Nate drums his fingers on the wheel, lost in thought. I turn in my seat so I can see him better. A frown clouds his expression, and I don’t like it one bit. This whole situation is unfair, and remembering with how much enthusiasm he talked about the job in London when he thought that was his future makes my gut clench. Of course, I’m over the moon that he’s here, but having to shelve his dream is a huge thing to live with. I resolve to bring back his smile, put him in a good mood.

***

When we stop at a gas station on the highway about two hours later, I have my chance. There is a small shop at the station, and besides the usual sandwiches and coffee, they also sell CDs and books. One in particular catches my attention. It’s a mix of hits from the decade Nate was in college and I was in high school. Nostalgia overwhelms me, and some of the singles were Nate’s favorites at the time.

Wanting to surprise him, I linger at the back of the shop, pretending to look through some books while Nate pays for the gas and buys us coffee. He tells me to take my time, that he’ll pull the car in a parking space behind the gas station.

After he leaves, I pay for the CD and whistle happily on the way to the car. I find Nate pacing the parking lot, his phone plastered to his ear. He’s gesturing agitatedly with his free hand. The coffee cups are on the hood of the car and I sit next to them, watching him in silence, trying to gauge who he might be talking to. Eventually he notices me and hangs up a few seconds later.

“That seemed to be an intense conv

ersation,” I remark, sitting with my feet crossed in a yoga position and holding the CD behind my back. Nate stops just in front of the car, surveying me as if he’s considering joining me on the hood.

“My mother.”

“Oh, how is she?” I always did like his mother. She was a tad hot-tempered, but all in all a good person and a determined woman who was dealt a shitty hand when it came to her love life.

Tags: Layla Hagen The Bennett Family Romance
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