Dressed as he was, in jeans, rust colored Henley shirt and work boots, he didn’t look like a man who contrived anything. His attitude and attire fairly shouted, “I am what I am, so deal with it!” She experienced an appreciative shiver along her spine. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it certainly hadn’t been anything like this hunk.
He cleared his throat. Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could see his lips, which indicated the irritation was winning out over amusement. His rankled perusal, even masked by dark glasses, made it clear he expected some kind of response. Preferably this year.
Belatedly she nodded. “Oh—my ride? Great. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” As he scooped up her carry-on bag, his lips kicked downward at the corners divulging the unvarnished truth. It was really no pleasure at all.
She experienced a twinge. “I—I thought I’d been abandoned—you’re so late.”
“Am I?” He pursed his lips. “Perhaps I got the arrival time wrong.” He indicated the direction and began to walk off with her bag. “This way.”
After an instant’s surprised hesitation by his abrupt departure, she scurried up beside him. “Uh—well, at least you’re here, now. That’s what counts. I gather you’re giving me a ride to Mr. Varos’s estate?”
He canted his head in her direction. “Good guess.”
She made a disgruntled face at his surly attitude, but he didn’t see it, since he’d turned away. His strides were long and she had to run to keep up, which was torture on her pinched feet. “Is there some kind of huge hurry?”
“Not huge.”
He didn’t look at her or slow his pace. She eyed his hawkish profile with growing aggravation. “Really?” she shot back. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to be surly. “Then how fast would we be running if it was huge?”
This time when he glanced her way, he slowed. “Am I walking too fast?”
“Not if we’re entered in a marathon. But if you don’t want to lose me in the airport, you might be. These are not exactly jogging shoes.” She indicated her high heels, her expression admonishing.
She couldn’t tell if he even bothered to glance at her feet, but she could detect bunching in his jaw muscles. “Sorry.” He resumed his trek, only infinitesimally slower than before. A telling indication of how little he cared about her feelings.
“Gee whiz.” She sprinted along beside him. “This is so much better. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
She scowled. He had a way of saying “My pleasure” that sounded suspiciously like “Go to hell.”
“We’ll need to—go to baggage claim,” she said, sorry to hear herself panting like a thirsty basset hound. “Do you know—the way to baggage claim?”
He flicked a harsh look her way. At least she thought he did, but he didn’t say anything. When he turned a corner, she skidded around it, too.
“So—what do you do when you’re not fetching people at airports?” she asked, trying to make conversation.
“I mind my own business.”
She stumbled, but regained her balance in time to keep from falling on her backside. Breaking into a sprint, she caught up with him. “Well, that—that was rude!” She grabbed his wrist, sturdy and warm and masculine. She didn’t know what she expected, but touching his flesh had a startling effect on her.
She swallowed. “I presume you work for Mr. Varos?” She said it in a tone meant to threaten that she would tattle about his boorishness, and quite possibly get him fired. She would never actually do such a thing, but this bad-mannered lout didn’t need to know. “Because, he should be informed about how you treat people!”
Her escort came to a stop so abruptly she was a step beyond him before she realized it. She whirled back as his head tilted down, making it plain he was focusing on her hand clutching his arm. With a slight twist of his wrist, he separated them. Sweeping the recently freed appendage outward, he indicated the nearest baggage carousel. “Pick a bag, Miss Angelis.”
“That won’t be hard,” she said, sweeping her own arm out. “There’s just the one left!”
“Why don’t I get that for you, ma’am.” He gave a slight, mocking salute and turned away.
She crossed her arms and scowled at the back of his head, deciding she could be as closemouthed as he. A few minutes later she was strapped into a sleek, two-seater sports car. Her belongings had barely fit into the trunk. Another indication that he hadn’t put a great deal of thought or care into this assignment.
As they sped northward, she found herself wondering about this delivery guy who’d been delegated to drive her to the remote Varos estate. She hoped it wasn’t too remote, since sitting beside a glowering grouch was not the most fun she’d ever had.
There were positives about the ride, though. The sun felt good on her face, mild and friendly—not a thing like the short-tempered sphinx at the wheel. She lay her head back to enjoy the cool breeze and the benevolent sunshine. After a time, she realized they were crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, a symphony in steel, recognizable around the world. She sat up to take in the spectacular view of ocean and the cliffs off to the west. On the eastern side, green hills spread out all around. Far below, lay San Francisco Bay, with its teeming marinas. Sailboats glided among verdant islands that dotted blue water. The tangy scent of the sea rose up to greet her and she inhaled, enjoying the extraordinary experience.
She looked at her unfriendly companion and her smile evaporated. His neatly trimmed hair ruffled in the breeze. Glossy brown tendrils skidded and cavorted across his forehead. Bathed in early-afternoon sunlight the way he was, Kalli had to admit he was deliciously handsome—except for the cantankerous set of his jaw. There was a coiled strength about him, a rugged vitality, that both attracted and troubled her. Clearly this was a man who didn’t give a tinker’s damn about what she or anyone else thought about him.
Unfortunately, even as moody and grouchy as he was, there was something in him that sent tremors of feminine attraction zinging through her veins. She hated conceding such a thing even for one fleeting instant. Why did she have to find him tempting? He was a rude, tight-lipped jerk. The sooner he dropped her off and drove out of her life, the better she’d like it.
Sitting more erect, she decided she might as well attempt conversation one more time. It was better than admiring the gleam of his hair or the appealing ridge of his cheekbones.
“Nice convertible,” she said. “Is it yours?”
“It’s one of the Varos cars.”
She nodded. That made sense. Not many people would be able to afford a snazzy vehicle like this. “So you’re the chauffeur?”
“Sometimes.”
“When you’re not teaching the sensitivity training seminars?” she asked, trying to get a rise out of him. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he could so easily get one out of her.
She didn’t succeed. He merely stared at the highway. No, that wasn’t totally accurate. He flexed one hand. She wondered if that meant he was clutching the steering wheel so tightly his hands were cramping. Ha! Good! If he had to exasperate her then she might as well return the favor.
“Do you have a name?” she asked, “Or are you an android