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curiosity filled Melissa’s eyes as she looked from Marcus to Samara.
“We’d better not hold you up any longer,” Samara told Marcus, discreetly ushering him toward the front entrance. “You wouldn’t want to keep those city council members waiting. I’ve heard they’re an ornery lot.”
Marcus seemed vaguely amused as he paused at the door to look down at her. “I’ll see you at six-thirty,” he said softly.
She smiled at him, aware of Melissa’s speculative gaze. “I’ll be ready.”
When he’d gone, Melissa leaned across the counter and exclaimed, “You have a date with Marcus Wolf?”
“Shhh, not so loud! And it’s not a date. It’s a business meeting.”
“How did this happen? The last time we spoke, you thought he was a womanizer.”
“He probably is,” Samara blithely retorted. “But if he can help bail us out of debt, I don’t care what he is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to finish up before my meeting with Mr. Wolf.”
Melissa grinned from ear to ear. “Atta, girl. I’ll want a full report in the morning.”
Samara chuckled dryly. “I wouldn’t expect otherwise.”
Chapter Five
T
    hree hours later, Samara climbed into the luxurious interior of Marcus’s silver Bentley Continental GT. The leather seats were so soft and sumptuous she felt like a knife sinking
    through melted butter.
“Nice,” she murmured appreciatively as Marcus slid behind the
wheel. She ran her fingers over the gleaming wood surface of the
console. “Very nice.”
Marcus sent her an amused sidelong glance. “You like?” “Oh, most definitely.” With a luxuriant sigh, Samara closed her
eyes and sank more deeply into the enveloping comfort of the
passenger seat. As she did, she felt the tensions of the day slowly ebb
from her body. “Mmm, I could fall asleep right now.”
Marcus chuckled softly. “I’ll try not to take it personally.” She opened one eye to look at him. “If anything, you should take
it as a compliment.”
“How’s that?”
“If I feel relaxed enough around you to fall asleep that says something good about you. You’re trustworthy, easy to be with.” Marcus shook his head. “Sounds boring to me.”
Samara smiled lazily. “Believe me, Marcus. That’s one word that
could never be used to describe you.”
His grin flashed white in the dim interior of the car. “I wasn’t
fishing for compliments, but I’ll take it.”
Samara laughed, then turned to gaze out the window as they
maneuvered through the snarl of downtown traffic, following
Pennsylvania Avenue as it wound past government office buildings
and historic landmarks. A gray mist clung to the cool March air, but
so far the forecasted showers hadn’t arrived.
Maureen Smith
    “Where are you staying, Marcus?”
“Foggy Bottom. Wanted to be as close as possible to the courthouse.” He glanced over at her. “What about you? Where do you live?”
“All the way over in southeast D.C.” She made a face. “Everyone keeps telling me that I need to move closer to the office, but I can’t bring myself to put my house up for sale. It was my grandmother’s— I practically grew up there. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Marcus nodded sympathetically. “I understand how you feel. It was hard for me to convince my father to sell our old house. He had strong ties to the community, but the neighborhood was going to hell. Once my brother and I moved away from home, we didn’t feel comfortable leaving the old man there alone—retired cop or not.”
Samara chuckled. “A retired cop, huh? He must have put up quite a struggle about leaving his turf. Where is he now?”
“We bought him a house in Stone Mountain, right outside of Atlanta. The way he complains, you would think he’d been exiled to some desert wasteland.”
Samara shook her head in exaggerated disbelief. “Ingrate,” she pronounced in judgment.
Marcus laughed, and damn if it wasn’t the sexiest sound she’d ever heard. She crossed her legs and