in the pits, too.”
“Really?”
His shrug looked a little weary. “I told you I was a gearhead.”
She smiled. “Well I’m thankful for it. This is all my fault, really. The car’s been due to be serviced forever, I just never have the—”
“Do you work tomorrow?” he interrupted.
“Yes,” she said, watching as he recoiled the cables by clutching one end and looping them around his bent elbow. Every movement he made struck her as knowing. Masterful.
“What time?” he asked, dropping his arm, his hand gripping the recoiled cable.
“Three to eleven. That’s my shift.”
“If you leave your car unlocked and the keys in the ignition, I’ll service it for you while you work.”
She stared at him for a few seconds. Aloof billionaire Michael Montand was going to service her car instead of one of a dozen interchangeable mechanics down at the FastOil where she usually went? It seemed highly improbable, like the idea of the president volunteering to clean her bathroom.
“That’s not necessary. Thank you for the offer, but you’ve already done enough. I’m sure you’re busy with other things.”
“I wouldn’t want you not to show up for work because your car didn’t start. Leave the keys.”
Lightning lit up the night sky and thunder answered. A storm was about to break. She could feel it churning in the sky just behind her, just like her mind spun desperately to think of a way out of accepting his hospitality. She wasn’t sure why, but the prospect intimidated her out of proportion to his offer. It thrilled her, too, which made her all that much more wary.
“Why are you so hesitant? What else have you heard about me besides the family business?” he demanded suddenly.
What had he read on her face?
“Nothing,” she insisted.
The small, grim smile returned. “You’re not a very good liar, Emma. What else did you hear?”
Her heart began to thump uncomfortably in her chest at the sound of him saying her name. To hide her discomposure, she rested her forearm on her open car door. His dark brows quirked slightly, his manner the cool, slightly impatient one of a prince being kept waiting.
“Okay. But you’re the one who insisted,” she said. “The rumor is that you’re a cold, selfish bastard.”
His expression remained masklike. A car passed on the country road in the distance, the sound striking her as lonely in the cloaking darkness. A puff of rain-scented wind swirled around them, rustling his thick hair.
“It’s seems to me they’re wrong,” Emma added, her voice shaking a little.
“No. They’re right,” he said.
For some reason, her chin went up defiantly. Neither of them spoke for a stretched few seconds. His face looked like carved alabaster in the harsh white lights, his gaze fierce. Emma cleared her throat and looked away.
“Well, you certainly were kind to me tonight. Thank you again. Good night,” she said, starting to get into her car.
“How far do you live?”
“Evanston. Not that far.”
“That storm is about to break,” he said, nodding to the western sky. “I’ll follow to make sure you get home okay.”
“
No
, that’s all right.”
He blinked at her adamancy. Did he think she didn’t want him to follow her because she didn’t want him to know where she lived? If anything, the opposite was the truth, and that’s what had made her speak so harshly. An alarm in her head blared that she was approaching some seriously dangerous water, while the rational part of her insisted that the idea that Michael Montand was vaguely interested in
her
was ridiculous, so what was she worried about? He was idiosyncratic, that’s all. Weren’t rich people known to be odd and unpredictable? Didn’t they live by different rules than someone like her? Besides, he’d just been warning her away from him by saying all the nasty rumors about him were true.
Hadn’t he?
“I just meant that you’ve already done enough for me tonight. I’ll be fine,” she
“Really?”
His shrug looked a little weary. “I told you I was a gearhead.”
She smiled. “Well I’m thankful for it. This is all my fault, really. The car’s been due to be serviced forever, I just never have the—”
“Do you work tomorrow?” he interrupted.
“Yes,” she said, watching as he recoiled the cables by clutching one end and looping them around his bent elbow. Every movement he made struck her as knowing. Masterful.
“What time?” he asked, dropping his arm, his hand gripping the recoiled cable.
“Three to eleven. That’s my shift.”
“If you leave your car unlocked and the keys in the ignition, I’ll service it for you while you work.”
She stared at him for a few seconds. Aloof billionaire Michael Montand was going to service her car instead of one of a dozen interchangeable mechanics down at the FastOil where she usually went? It seemed highly improbable, like the idea of the president volunteering to clean her bathroom.
“That’s not necessary. Thank you for the offer, but you’ve already done enough. I’m sure you’re busy with other things.”
“I wouldn’t want you not to show up for work because your car didn’t start. Leave the keys.”
Lightning lit up the night sky and thunder answered. A storm was about to break. She could feel it churning in the sky just behind her, just like her mind spun desperately to think of a way out of accepting his hospitality. She wasn’t sure why, but the prospect intimidated her out of proportion to his offer. It thrilled her, too, which made her all that much more wary.
“Why are you so hesitant? What else have you heard about me besides the family business?” he demanded suddenly.
What had he read on her face?
“Nothing,” she insisted.
The small, grim smile returned. “You’re not a very good liar, Emma. What else did you hear?”
Her heart began to thump uncomfortably in her chest at the sound of him saying her name. To hide her discomposure, she rested her forearm on her open car door. His dark brows quirked slightly, his manner the cool, slightly impatient one of a prince being kept waiting.
“Okay. But you’re the one who insisted,” she said. “The rumor is that you’re a cold, selfish bastard.”
His expression remained masklike. A car passed on the country road in the distance, the sound striking her as lonely in the cloaking darkness. A puff of rain-scented wind swirled around them, rustling his thick hair.
“It’s seems to me they’re wrong,” Emma added, her voice shaking a little.
“No. They’re right,” he said.
For some reason, her chin went up defiantly. Neither of them spoke for a stretched few seconds. His face looked like carved alabaster in the harsh white lights, his gaze fierce. Emma cleared her throat and looked away.
“Well, you certainly were kind to me tonight. Thank you again. Good night,” she said, starting to get into her car.
“How far do you live?”
“Evanston. Not that far.”
“That storm is about to break,” he said, nodding to the western sky. “I’ll follow to make sure you get home okay.”
“
No
, that’s all right.”
He blinked at her adamancy. Did he think she didn’t want him to follow her because she didn’t want him to know where she lived? If anything, the opposite was the truth, and that’s what had made her speak so harshly. An alarm in her head blared that she was approaching some seriously dangerous water, while the rational part of her insisted that the idea that Michael Montand was vaguely interested in
her
was ridiculous, so what was she worried about? He was idiosyncratic, that’s all. Weren’t rich people known to be odd and unpredictable? Didn’t they live by different rules than someone like her? Besides, he’d just been warning her away from him by saying all the nasty rumors about him were true.
Hadn’t he?
“I just meant that you’ve already done enough for me tonight. I’ll be fine,” she
Similar Books
