Love of Her Lives by Sharon Clare

concern is only for your safety.”
    He’d grabbed the black satchel off the floor and her purse from the counter. When Beth slipped in behind the wheel, he ran around to the passenger side then tossed her the little bag. Inside were the keys like she’d promised. She didn’t resist, but drove the car out of the garage. Good sign.
    She hadn’t called his bluff. Restraining her would have been a problem because driving a car wasn’t one of his strengths. Calum’s knowledge of the last century or so on Earth was adequate — he’d kept up with progress for the most part — but he couldn’t possibly catch every detail. Besides, watching and doing were not quite the same. No doubt he would master the car eventually.
    “There wasn’t enough money in that backpack to warrant Bruce’s crazed behaviour.” She turned on to the main road. “Either he’s psycho, or there was something else in the backpack that I missed. Is this somehow connected to the university?”
    He pulled on the zipper tab, amazed by the way the wee metal latches came apart. While keeping his wonder to himself, he couldn’t resist pulling the tab closed and open another time. Brilliant invention. “Are you certain the satchel contained not a thing but the money?”
    “A small bag of marijuana too.”
    Drugs. He pressed his fingers along the seams inside the bag and examined each pocket. “Nothing else?”
    “No, nothing else.”
    He turned to face her and knocked his head against the door frame. “Damn, we might as well be riding in a soapbox.”
    She glanced at him, but he enjoyed no more than a hint of sensuality in her gaze before she focused back on the road. She masked her attraction to him by looking pleased at his discomfort.
    “You didn’t answer my question,” she reminded.
    “I don’t know if the satchel is connected to anyone at the university, but it’s a thought.”
    “It strikes me odd that you don’t want to involve the police? Why do you think that could lead to trouble?”
    “I am a soothsayer.” It was the best explanation he could give at the moment.
    “You’re psychic? Yeah, right.” A little puff blew from her lips of pink, lips that glistened like the inside of a seashell.
    He began to count the moments until he’d have the taste of her on his own lips. “I am right. You’ll realize it soon enough. I’ve told you the truth whether you believe it or not. I’m not your enemy, lass. You’re mixed up in something malicious and I’m here to help.”
    A baffled glance came his way. “Okay, let’s assume for one minute you do have insight into all this. Why do you care? You don’t know me.”
    “Why did you not keep the money?”
    “Ill–gotten gains? No thanks. I’m not afraid to get involved and do the right thing. If you think about yourself all the time, then people get neglected or hurt.”
    “People like you? Who hurt you, Beth?” He knew exactly who — her mother. The woman had the maternal instincts of a fish.
    She pulled the car to a stop at a red light and flashed him the kind of look a wolf gives a rabbit. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you changed the subject again. So, you’re delivering me from a future crisis you’ve psychically foreseen because you’re one of those good guys who believes in doing the right thing, just like me.” Each word was carefully coated in sarcasm.
    “Ah, well said. You’re a fine judge of character, Bethia.”
    “Stop saying my name like that.”
    He laced his smile with the promise of bedtime. “Like what?”
    “My name’s not Bethia, and you sound like your mind is on pure sin when you draw my name out like that. It’s no way to gain my trust.”
    He laughed a deep rolling sound gilded in jasmine and starry nights. “A fine judge of character, indeed,” he said under his breath.
    “I heard that.”
    Good. He turned and looked out the window. She’d caught his intent. He had no desire to mask it, but planned a slow seduction culminating in