High-Powered, Hot-Blooded
“You can’t get it fixed?”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I could,” she said slowly. “And I will. Right after I win the lottery. But first I need new tires. It’s always something, right? But that’s okay. My car is really dependable. We have a deal—it starts for me every morning and I don’t replace it.”
His mouth twitched. “You talk to your car?”
“Sure. You probably don’t.”
“Your car and I have never met.”
She laughed. “I can introduce you, if you’d like.”
“No thanks.” He turned left at the light.
“I’ve been thinking, we’re going to have to tell people how we met. That’s always the question right after ‘How long have you been dating?’”
“Three months.”
“Okay.” She made a mental note. “How about saying it was Labor Day weekend. You were on your way to the beach when you saw me on the side of the road with a flat tire. You stopped to help.”
“No one will believe that.”
“You wouldn’t stop?” She did her best not to sound disapproving. “You have to help people. It’s good karma.”
“Maybe I don’t believe in karma.”
“You don’t have to—it still happens. I think the universe keeps the score pretty even.”
“Doubtful. If that were true, I wouldn’t be a success.”
“Why not?”
“Haven’t you read anything about me? I’m a total bastard. I hired you to prove otherwise.”
“If you were a total bastard, you would have had Tim arrested the second you found out what he’d done. You were willing to let him pay back the money.”
“Only because I didn’t want the negative press.” He glanced at her. “Be careful, Annie. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m nicer than I am. You’ll only get hurt.”
Maybe. But didn’t his warning her prove her point?
The hotel ballroom was large, elegant and extremely well-lit. Music from a suit-wearing combo drifted under the hum of conversation. Annie held on to her glass of club soda and lime and did her best not to look panicked. Well-dressed people chatted and laughed with each other. There were enough diamonds glittering to stretch from here to Montana. She had a feeling the cost of all the designer shoes would easily settle the national debt.
Duncan’s world was an interesting place and about as far from her classroom as it was possible to get while staying on this planet. Still, she was here to do a job, so she remained by his side, smiling at him adoringly, endlessly shaking hands with people whose names she would never remember.
“How long have you and Duncan been dating?” a well-dressed woman in her forties asked.
“Three months,” Annie said. “We met on Labor Day weekend.”
“That’s an eternity for our Duncan. You must be special.”
“He’s the special one,” Annie said.
“You’re not exactly his type.”
Duncan must have heard. He put his arm around Annie and pulled her against him. “My type has changed.”
“So I see.”
Annie leaned into him, finding the closeness less awkward than she would have expected. Duncan was tall and well muscled. She could feel the power of him, but instead of making her nervous, his strength made her feel protected and safe. As if nothing bad could happen while he was around.
An illusion, she reminded herself. But a nice one.
When the woman moved away, Duncan led Annie over to another group of people and performed more introductions. One of the men there worked for a business magazine.
“Mind if I ask you a few questions?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “As long as you don’t mind me being nervous.”
“Not into the press?”
“Not really.”
“You can’t date a guy like Duncan Patrick and expect to go unnoticed.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The man, slight and pale, in his mid-thirties asked, “How did you meet?”
She gave him the story about the Labor Day tire trouble. He didn’t look convinced.
“Someone said you teach?”