boss wrote them up. I didn’t know that one was on there, and I would never have asked it if I hadn’t been so late, and flustered from running into you in the hallway, and losing my shirt, and—and—”
Everything I had to say fell away as his hand turned and his fingers wrapped around mine. His thumb traced a slow circle on the flesh of my palm. His features softened.
I swallowed back my embarrassment. His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror.
“Anyway, I was hoping that you would—”
“Buckle up,” he said. His eyes were fixed in the rearview mirror.
“What?” I hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly. “I mean—”
He let go of my hand and shoved the gear shift into first gear. Before I could even turn to grab the seat belt, he was roaring away from the curb.
The force threw me back against the leather seat, and I squealed as much as the tires. He swerved expertly around a delivery guy riding a bicycle through a red light and dodged a jaywalker before zooming out again into an open bus lane.
“What the hell are you doing?” I cried out, my hand fumbling for the seat belt.
“Driving,” he said calmly, as he jerked the wheel and careened around a Lexus who was double parked on the curb. The tires squealed again as he sped through a yellow light. I finally got hold of the seatbelt, but then he jammed down on the brakes. My shoulder slammed into the dashboard and my breath went out of my lungs in one whoosh.
I looked up to see a mom with a stroller coming out from a car right in front of us. She took her time crossing the street, and Piers swore, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers. As he accelerated around her, he leaned out the window and swatted the phone out of her grip. I could hear her yelling at us as the phone clattered to the asphalt.
“What the—”
“I’m all for the Darwin award when it comes to idiots,” Piers snapped. “But I don’t appreciate parents using their children as human shields.”
He sped through another intersection. I gulped and finally grabbed hold of the seat belt. Moving quickly, I buckled it in before he could do any more stunts out of The Fast and the Furious .
“Come on, come on,” he muttered, swinging into an alleyway and coming out the other side. I had no idea what he was doing, but when he took another detour through a parking garage, I started to get weirded out.
“Are you kidnapping me?” I asked finally.
“And I’m the one who’s arrogant? Ha! Ha! ”
The next turn he made tossed me sideways toward the driver’s seat, and I braced myself instinctively.
“Ahem,” Piers said, straightening the wheel. I looked down and realized I was gripping his upper thigh, right next to his—
“Sorry!” I said, pulling my hand back into my lap.
“Are you sure you’re not a stalker?” Piers asked, making another sharp turn.
“I’m not—what the hell are you doing? Where are we going?”
“You would make an awful celebrity,” Piers said, glancing into the rearview mirror.
“Thanks, I kind of already knew that,” I said. “That’s why I’m a writer and not a famous TV host. But that doesn’t answer—”
“What I am doing,” Piers interrupted, “is getting us away from the paparazzi who were waiting for me. If those turn out to be your people, I’m going to be quite upset.”
“They’re not my people ,” I spat. “I didn’t even know they were there!”
“And as for where we’re going, well, I know this nice Italian place uptown.”
“I—Italian?”
“Do you not like Italian?” His head swiveled toward me, and I nodded quickly, anxious to have him look away from the streets for even a split second.
“I—uh—you— sure. Sure. Italian’s great.”
“Brilliant.”
“Wait here,” he said, pulling up to a curb. He was out of the car before I could even ask him what was going on.
What in the hell was going on? I had just wanted to ask him a few questions, but here I was, waiting for him to
Everything I had to say fell away as his hand turned and his fingers wrapped around mine. His thumb traced a slow circle on the flesh of my palm. His features softened.
I swallowed back my embarrassment. His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror.
“Anyway, I was hoping that you would—”
“Buckle up,” he said. His eyes were fixed in the rearview mirror.
“What?” I hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly. “I mean—”
He let go of my hand and shoved the gear shift into first gear. Before I could even turn to grab the seat belt, he was roaring away from the curb.
The force threw me back against the leather seat, and I squealed as much as the tires. He swerved expertly around a delivery guy riding a bicycle through a red light and dodged a jaywalker before zooming out again into an open bus lane.
“What the hell are you doing?” I cried out, my hand fumbling for the seat belt.
“Driving,” he said calmly, as he jerked the wheel and careened around a Lexus who was double parked on the curb. The tires squealed again as he sped through a yellow light. I finally got hold of the seatbelt, but then he jammed down on the brakes. My shoulder slammed into the dashboard and my breath went out of my lungs in one whoosh.
I looked up to see a mom with a stroller coming out from a car right in front of us. She took her time crossing the street, and Piers swore, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers. As he accelerated around her, he leaned out the window and swatted the phone out of her grip. I could hear her yelling at us as the phone clattered to the asphalt.
“What the—”
“I’m all for the Darwin award when it comes to idiots,” Piers snapped. “But I don’t appreciate parents using their children as human shields.”
He sped through another intersection. I gulped and finally grabbed hold of the seat belt. Moving quickly, I buckled it in before he could do any more stunts out of The Fast and the Furious .
“Come on, come on,” he muttered, swinging into an alleyway and coming out the other side. I had no idea what he was doing, but when he took another detour through a parking garage, I started to get weirded out.
“Are you kidnapping me?” I asked finally.
“And I’m the one who’s arrogant? Ha! Ha! ”
The next turn he made tossed me sideways toward the driver’s seat, and I braced myself instinctively.
“Ahem,” Piers said, straightening the wheel. I looked down and realized I was gripping his upper thigh, right next to his—
“Sorry!” I said, pulling my hand back into my lap.
“Are you sure you’re not a stalker?” Piers asked, making another sharp turn.
“I’m not—what the hell are you doing? Where are we going?”
“You would make an awful celebrity,” Piers said, glancing into the rearview mirror.
“Thanks, I kind of already knew that,” I said. “That’s why I’m a writer and not a famous TV host. But that doesn’t answer—”
“What I am doing,” Piers interrupted, “is getting us away from the paparazzi who were waiting for me. If those turn out to be your people, I’m going to be quite upset.”
“They’re not my people ,” I spat. “I didn’t even know they were there!”
“And as for where we’re going, well, I know this nice Italian place uptown.”
“I—Italian?”
“Do you not like Italian?” His head swiveled toward me, and I nodded quickly, anxious to have him look away from the streets for even a split second.
“I—uh—you— sure. Sure. Italian’s great.”
“Brilliant.”
“Wait here,” he said, pulling up to a curb. He was out of the car before I could even ask him what was going on.
What in the hell was going on? I had just wanted to ask him a few questions, but here I was, waiting for him to
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