She gaped at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
In answer, he plunked the clothing, stack intact, right into the case. “It would take all day at the rate you were going. What else goes in here?” He glanced around, expecting to see a stack of suitcases sitting somewhere already. The occasional trips they’d taken together years ago had always been accompanied by a minimum of three suitcases too many. All he saw, however, was one soft-sided tote sitting atop the white upholstered chair near the French doors. Shoes and makeup, he’d bet. “Well? What else? This can’t be all.”
“Why can’t it?” She countered.
He eyed her and she huffed, striding into the dressing room. She came out a bare minute later, diligently avoiding his gaze as she dropped a bundle into the case. All he caught was a glimpse of pastels and lace and silk before she quickly jerked the flap into place and yanked the zipper around, closing it.
“All right, I’m ready. Satisfied?”
“I would be if you weren’t thirty minutes late.” He grabbed up the bag and slung the strap over his shoulder.
She picked up a small purse that matched the coral-colored dress she wore and retrieved the smaller tote from the white chair. Then it was she who waited for him. “Well? I thought you were in a hurry.”
“Where’s the rest?”
“Rest of what?”
“Your suitcases.”
She gave her tote bag an exaggerated jiggle, raising her eyebrows expressively. “Hello?”
“Come on, Kate. We don’t have time for this.”
“Then stop standing there, wasting more of it,” she said, sugar sweet, and glided past him in a tantalizing swish of fragrance. “Like I said, Brett. Some things have changed.”
He followed, thinking he’d be a helluva lot happier if he could count on that fact on every front, not just her apparent packing habits.
Outside the mansion, Kate stopped short at the sight of Brett’s car parked in the driveway at the base of the wide entry steps.
Naturally, she thought. Gleaming black, long, low and wicked, the car was everything that he’d long ago vowed to own. He took the tote bag from her and she watched him dump the bags into the minuscule back seat. With his black-brown hair, shadowed jaw, and dark glasses that he slid into place before opening the passenger door, he looked wholly unfamiliar to her.
Dark. Dangerous. A perfect complement to the powerful car he drove.
Unsettled at the thought, she sank into the passenger seat and busied herself with retrieving her own sunglasses from her narrow purse. The top of the car was down, and the sun was killing despite the early hour.
“Fasten your seat belt.”
Her lips tightened at the sharp pain that knifed through her. As if she needed a reminder? She shoved her sunglasses on her nose and snapped the safety belt into place. But still, Brett didn’t start the engine. She looked straight ahead through the windshield. “What are you waiting for now?”
“You’re awful edgy this morning.”
She propped her elbow on the sun-warmed door beside her, unable to prevent a quick glance his way. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He still didn’t reach for the ignition.
“Well,” she said flippantly, “don’t blame me if we miss the flight.”
“We’ve got time,” he said as he finally started the car and drove away from the house. “I told Maria to tack on an extra half hour since I know you’ve never been on time for anything in your life.”
She sat back, stung. “I had a few calls. It couldn’t be helped.”
“Need to cancel your next manicure and pedicure?”
Her jaw ached. “As a matter of fact, yes. I also called my personal trainer and my masseuse. Made sure they knew I wouldn’t be available for my daily sessions.”
“Are you going to be this difficult from here on out?”
“Only if you’re going to insult me every time you open your mouth.” She exhaled wearily. What was it about this man that made her lose all semblance of civility? “I didn’t mean to be late,” she admitted reluctantly. “The father of a patient phoned.”
“I thought you said you were between patients.”
“I am.” And she wasn’t at all pleased about failing.
Fortunately Brett didn’t pursue that point. She was still filled with frustration over the Morales case. She didn’t need Brett digging at it, making it worse.
The wind rushed around them as Brett drove down the long driveway. The impeccably manicured grounds of the estate seemed to stretch out forever, as green as green could be. Grass groomed. Oaks and sweet gum trees towering. She rarely paid the grounds much heed, and probably wouldn’t even today if it weren’t a far safer subject to study than Brett and his low-slung, edgy car.
Not even Cord, who changed cars nearly as often as he changed his shirt, had a car like this one, she thought. And it was as different from her sedate, hard-topped sedan as it could be.
It also ate up the miles to the airport. It seemed barely minutes had passed when Brett pulled into a small lot where he parked under a numbered awning. He pushed a button and the car’s top smoothly lifted into place.
“You always said you’d have a car like this one day,” Kate murmured, smoothing her hand along the seat. “Is it new?”
“Had it a few years, now.”
He came around and opened her door, then pulled out her luggage as well as his own bag.
She took her small tote from him and slid the strap over her shoulder as he locked the car. “How long is the flight to Boston?”
He shrugged. “A few hours or so.”
Kate hurried to keep up with him as he strode out of the private lot, his long legs eating up the distance. At five foot eight, she wasn’t short, but her stride was nothing compared to his. She finally quit trying, and walked at a more comfortable pace behind him as they entered the terminal.
He was arrogant and annoying and a workaholic.
And just because she’d cried her eyes out in front of him the day before as if she was eighteen instead of thirty, didn’t mean her opinion on that had changed one bit. And just because she’d been unable to find sleep until the wee hours that morning, didn’t mean that she’d been dwelling on it, either.
She quickened her pace again and nearly ran into Brett when he stopped to wait for her. He pointed her toward the check-in and stuck a piece of paper in her hand. “That’s our confirmation number. I need to make a call. Can you handle checking us in?”
She wouldn’t take offense. She wouldn’t. So what if she had to count to ten? At least her voice was even when she answered. “I think I can manage.”
He looked at her for a long moment. Then left her with the bags and walked away. She could see that he’d produced a slender cellular phone from somewhere.
Whether he wore a suit as he had yesterday, or looked rangy in blue jeans and a striped rugby shirt the way he did today, he was always at work. That was Brett.
Sighing faintly, she turned around again and waited for her turn. It didn’t take long. She read off the number for the woman behind the desk, absently produced her driver’s license for identification and glanced around the busy terminal.