“So, Beth Langdon, why have you been following me for the past few days?”
Pressing her evening bag against her collarbone, she widened her eyes and gave him the answer she’d been rehearsing all day. “Me following you? I think you were the one following me.” She shook her finger at him. “It’s true. Walking in the old city…along the harbor…at the Café de Paris…well, everywhere I went, there you were. Imagine my surprise when we bumped into each other at the casino last night.” Smiling, she held her breath to see if he would buy it.
He didn’t.
Nodding once, he stood away from the door and studied her. “That was very good,” he said, pretending good-naturedly to be impressed with the way she’d fielded his question.
Off the hook for the moment, Beth let her gaze drift away from him. The confident smile she’d kept on her face suddenly disappeared when she saw the Jaguar convertible parked in the portico. “We’re going in that?” she asked in a whisper of unmistakable admiration.
“We could catch a bus,” he said teasingly, as she pulled the front door closed. He patted his pockets. “Oops, I don’t have my schedule with me.”
“I was joking,” she murmured, walking past him to the car. She ran her hand along the gleaming door, then reached over and gave the leather seat a testing push. “Mmmmm.” Soft as a marshmallow. Stretching, she drew her fingertips around the top of the wooden steering wheel and then along the dash. Richly grained walnut, she was sure of it. If there was ever an automobile she’d secretly coveted, this was the one. And Reese had even selected her favorite color combination: a highly polished, deep green body with a light, buttery tan leather interior. Braced and leaning over the Jaguar, she thought about her secondhand car back in Bethesda. Dented and badly in need of a paint job, the economy model took up far less space than this one, didn’t require gourmet gasoline and in six more payments she would own it.
“Careful,” he said, moving up behind her. “Stroking it like that may get it excited.”
Biting back a laugh, she removed her hand from inside the car and pushed herself away. It was just a car, she reminded herself. And she was after far more important information about Reese Marchand than his taste in automobiles. Still, if there was such a thing as a sexy automobile, Reese owned one. She turned to get a peek at the side mirror and tapped her fingernails on the polished exterior and sighed. There was no denying it, luxury felt awfully good. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to ri—” Withdrawing her hand as if she’d been caught with it in the cookie jar, Beth moved two steps back this time. “What I meant to say was, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to drive one of these.”
Slipping his hands into his pockets, Reese kept on watching her as he rested his backside against the car. As much as he enjoyed her overt flirting, her unstudied reactions charmed him on a whole different level. Removing his key ring from one pocket, he held it to his chest. “Beth, it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
Rattling his keys, he tossed the ring into the air. “To drive one. Catch.”
She caught the keys somewhere near her knees. Staring at them, she adjusted the strap of her evening bag before she stood up and looked up. “Are you serious?”
“Only if you’ll drive it with the top down,” he said, taking her evening bag and setting it in the back seat.
She pulled in a slow, deep breath as a smile grew on her face. “Now?”
“Now. I love that word. It has such an immediate feel to it,” he said, as he opened the car door and helped her into the driver’s seat. By the time he’d walked around the car and gotten in on the passenger side, she’d inserted the key, started the engine and was wrapping her fingers around the walnut gear-shift knob. “Are you always this eager for a new adventure?” he asked, as he connected his seat belt.
She pumped the gas once and the purring engine roared with promise. “I am since I met you.”
Adjusting the hem of her dress on her thigh, she shifted smoothly, then eased off the clutch. As the convertible rolled to the end of the lit driveway, her hair was already lifting in the breeze. Looking left, then right, she gunned the motor to a ripping roar this time. Her eyes brightened and a smile flashed across her face at the animal sound. “Ready?”
“Ready,” he said, giving her a thumb’s-up.
A shot of adrenaline buzzed through his veins as she pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the main road. Easing back in the passenger seat, he let out a hopeful sigh. With Beth Langdon beside him he could legitimately excuse himself from any more business talk with Duncan for tonight. Good friend or not, Duncan had to get the message soon. Reese was not going to the United States to sell his champagne. At least, not this year, when Harrison Montgomery was claiming half the sound bites on CNN. Reese rubbed his face in quiet frustration. The senator’s familiar image was everywhere these days, but there was one place he could happily escape it. Turning his attention to the woman beside him, he smiled.
With her hair whipping around her head in a wild halo of spun gold, she smiled back. Her fresh, unstudied reaction delighted him beyond reason. He didn’t know a thing about her, except that she appeared not to have a care in the world. And suddenly he was sharing that sentiment.
“How does it feel?” he asked, as enchanted with her as she was with the car.
“Like heaven on wheels,” she said, competently shifting down when a service van pulled out from a side road in front of them.
As she slowed the Jaguar, Reese angled his body toward her. He hadn’t seen anyone enjoy the simple act of driving a car as much as she was. She alternately stroked the wheel with her thumb and glided her palm along its curve. He imagined that same smile on her as a teenager with her first car. In typical American tradition, she’d probably named it.
When she began lightly tapping her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, he nudged the side of her thigh. “Time to make a move, Beth.”
She gave him a quick questioning look, then returned her gaze to the road. “What do you mean?”
“It’s pretty much a straightaway for several miles.” He leaned closer, resting his hand on his knee near the gear shift. “Pass the van. I’ll watch you.”
Maneuvering the car a foot to the left, she checked up the road for oncoming traffic.
“Clear?”
“I can see all the way to Italy,” she said teasingly. Holding her hair away from her face, she added, “Now?”
Reese braced his hand on the dash close to the gearshift knob. “Now.” She steered the car smoothly into the opposite lane. “Excellent.” Glancing down the road, he could see a set of headlights cresting over a rise. “You’re fine, just give it more gas.”
Her chin rose a fraction of an inch, the only sign of her increased concentration. He could sense her excitement and rode with it like a tail wind. “A little faster.” At that moment the service van driving beside them began speeding up. Wrapping her hands more firmly around the knob, she stepped into the clutch, pulled back on the stick and missed the gear. The approaching car blinked its headlights in warning. His first instinct was to take over. “Get ready on the clutch,” he said, attempting to remove her hand from the knob.
“Trust me. I’ve got it,” she said, her voice steady, determined, her grip sure.
In that tense and vital moment, he found himself ignoring his first impulse. Something deep inside told him to let go. To trust her. He did, and a second later, she maneuvered the stick into