before pulling out of the lot. They’d reached the corner light when she suddenly stompedon the brake, ignoring the blare of the horn coming from the car behind her. Zach reflexively pressed his hands to the roof of the car to keep from eating his kneecaps.
“Wait a minute, why am I giving you a lift?” she demanded. “I don’t even remember saying yes.”
“Frank is doing some work on my shocks,” he replied calmly.
“And just how did you expect to make your meeting with Mr. Fujimora?” The car behind them laid on the horn again. She shoved the car into first gear and turned onto Route 7. “Never mind. I’m sure wining and dining me into driving you was cheaper than cab fare. And you really lucked out this time. You didn’t even have to spring for the food.”
“The dinner invite is still open,” he said, struggling to pull the narrow seat belt across his chest as Dara darted through traffic.
“No thanks. I’m sure you can grab something at the airport while you wait.” She spared a quick glance at him as she rolled to a stop at the next red light. “What sort of trip are you planning this time?”
So she couldn’t let it go. Maybe the old Dara was closer to the surface than he’d suspected. He wondered if she suspected. “I can’t tell you.”
“What do you mean you can’t tell me?” she demanded. “You plan vacations—and I use that term loosely—not espionage.” Another honk from behind them had her muttering as she roared through the intersection.
Zach wedged his hand between his thigh and the door and gripped the handle. “Actually, this time it’s alittle of both. But that’s all I can tell you. Any more and I’d have to kill you.”
“Very funny.” Dara glared at him briefly, then returned her attention to the highway as she moved swiftly into the other lane to avoid running up on the fender of the slow-moving van in front of them.
“That is, if you don’t kill me first,” Zach muttered, letting loose a sigh of relief when the light ahead turned red. Had it been only moments ago that he’d silently accused her of playing life safe? Apparently that didn’t apply when she was behind the wheel.
“I heard that, Brogan.” Dara looked over at him. “I’ll have you know I have a perfect driving record. No tickets, no accidents.”
“So, there is a god.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” she retorted. “For a thrill-seeker, you sure scare easy.”
It was like watching an exotic butterfly emerge from a plain brown chrysalis. Had he read her completely wrong? He didn’t think so. She made her opinions quite clear. And often.
So what then? Was it his presence that brought out this side of her? He couldn’t ignore how incredibly intrigued he was by that idea. Not to mention challenged.
He loved challenges.
“The key to a successful thrill,” he stated, recalling her latest slur on his profession, “is planning carefully and thoroughly so you have as much control as the situation allows. The further you reduce the unnecessary risks, the more fully you can appreciate the unavoidable ones.
“Being the passenger in your car,” he continuedtightly, as she deftly tucked the compact between two cars in the fast lane without turning a hair, “doesn’t remotely fulfill any of those requirements.”
“I haven’t gone over the speed limit—”
He snorted.
“—by more than a mile or two,” she added, obviously enjoying his discomfort, “I used my turn signal every time I changed lanes—”
“I hardly think one blink as you cut back and forth is what the Department of Motor Vehicles handbook had in mind regarding safe lane changes.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said. “I’m beginning to think you’re nothing but a big fraud.”
He had to bite his tongue to keep from making the same accusation. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was all fired up like this? “Fraud?” he shot back. “Take the first exit and go toward the hotel. I’ll have you know
“Wait a minute, why am I giving you a lift?” she demanded. “I don’t even remember saying yes.”
“Frank is doing some work on my shocks,” he replied calmly.
“And just how did you expect to make your meeting with Mr. Fujimora?” The car behind them laid on the horn again. She shoved the car into first gear and turned onto Route 7. “Never mind. I’m sure wining and dining me into driving you was cheaper than cab fare. And you really lucked out this time. You didn’t even have to spring for the food.”
“The dinner invite is still open,” he said, struggling to pull the narrow seat belt across his chest as Dara darted through traffic.
“No thanks. I’m sure you can grab something at the airport while you wait.” She spared a quick glance at him as she rolled to a stop at the next red light. “What sort of trip are you planning this time?”
So she couldn’t let it go. Maybe the old Dara was closer to the surface than he’d suspected. He wondered if she suspected. “I can’t tell you.”
“What do you mean you can’t tell me?” she demanded. “You plan vacations—and I use that term loosely—not espionage.” Another honk from behind them had her muttering as she roared through the intersection.
Zach wedged his hand between his thigh and the door and gripped the handle. “Actually, this time it’s alittle of both. But that’s all I can tell you. Any more and I’d have to kill you.”
“Very funny.” Dara glared at him briefly, then returned her attention to the highway as she moved swiftly into the other lane to avoid running up on the fender of the slow-moving van in front of them.
“That is, if you don’t kill me first,” Zach muttered, letting loose a sigh of relief when the light ahead turned red. Had it been only moments ago that he’d silently accused her of playing life safe? Apparently that didn’t apply when she was behind the wheel.
“I heard that, Brogan.” Dara looked over at him. “I’ll have you know I have a perfect driving record. No tickets, no accidents.”
“So, there is a god.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” she retorted. “For a thrill-seeker, you sure scare easy.”
It was like watching an exotic butterfly emerge from a plain brown chrysalis. Had he read her completely wrong? He didn’t think so. She made her opinions quite clear. And often.
So what then? Was it his presence that brought out this side of her? He couldn’t ignore how incredibly intrigued he was by that idea. Not to mention challenged.
He loved challenges.
“The key to a successful thrill,” he stated, recalling her latest slur on his profession, “is planning carefully and thoroughly so you have as much control as the situation allows. The further you reduce the unnecessary risks, the more fully you can appreciate the unavoidable ones.
“Being the passenger in your car,” he continuedtightly, as she deftly tucked the compact between two cars in the fast lane without turning a hair, “doesn’t remotely fulfill any of those requirements.”
“I haven’t gone over the speed limit—”
He snorted.
“—by more than a mile or two,” she added, obviously enjoying his discomfort, “I used my turn signal every time I changed lanes—”
“I hardly think one blink as you cut back and forth is what the Department of Motor Vehicles handbook had in mind regarding safe lane changes.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said. “I’m beginning to think you’re nothing but a big fraud.”
He had to bite his tongue to keep from making the same accusation. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was all fired up like this? “Fraud?” he shot back. “Take the first exit and go toward the hotel. I’ll have you know
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