“I’m surprised you’re okay with it. Having your employees invade your personal space.”
“Some intrusions are more welcome than others.”
I glance over to see her brows furrow.
Silence settles between us until a reckless idiot weaves into our lane. I jam the brakes as she gasps, her hands instinctively clutching the seatbelt. The sudden stop causes the glove compartment to burst open, spilling its guts at her feet.
“Sorry about that. You all right?” I question, the irritation at the other driver manifesting as a growl in my voice.
My peripheral vision catches a pale blue envelope with a handwritten “JP” scrawled on the front. A jolt runs through me. The letter. Damn, I had completely forgotten it was tucked away in there. Should have incinerated it when I had the chance.
Moving quickly, I snatch the documents off the floor, shoving them back into the glove box with a bit more force than necessary. The last thing I need is for her to see that letter.
Her eyes flash with surprise and a hint of annoyance. “I wasn’t planning on reading them.”
“Uh-huh,” I grunt out, feeling unnerved.
I let off the brake, my tense grip on the wheel slowly loosening as the GPS tells me to take the next left.
“Just drop me off by the CVS Pharmacy,” she instructs.
I frown. We’re a block from her street. “You live on this street?”
“A few doors down,” she says breezily. “Here’s fine.”
Liar.
She doesn’t want me to see the sex shop. She didn’t want me to buy it either; this was one of our bigger disagreements.
Resigned, I sigh inwardly and ease the car into a vacant spot near the CVS. As I cut the engine, I can feel an odd tension hanging in the air.
“Thanks so much for the ride,” she mumbles, scrabbling with the door handle like there’s a fire under her ass.
“Hold on a second,” I interject gruffly, exiting my side and coming around to open her door.
I reach out and take her hand to help her out, feeling an electric jolt at the touch. It lasts longer than it should, but I’m not complaining. I make my move. “You look like you could use some grub. I know a killer Eritrean joint not too far from here. What do you say, care to tag along?”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You know that place? I’m practically a regular. How’d you find out about it?”
“A friend introduced me to it. So what do you say?” I try to keep my tone casual, but there’s a hint of hopefulness I can’t quite conceal.
She chews on her lip, clearly torn. “I can’t. I have plans a little later with friends. But thanks for the offer.”
The rejection stings a bit more than I’d like to admit.
She gives me a look that’s half amusement, half bewilderment. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a plastic-chairs-and-box-wine kind of guy.”
I mirror her smirk, leaning toward her, enough to make her breath hitch. “Making assumptions about me again, are we?”
“Perhaps. I would chalk you up as more of a caviar-for-breakfast, champagne-sipping, Michelin-star man. I mean, Quinn & Wolfe isn’t exactly known for its modesty.”
I nod, playing along with her teasing. “While I concoct my wicked corporate schemes and theGame of Thronessoundtrack plays in the background.”
“Exactly like that.” Her smile fades into something a little more awkward. “Well… thanks again, JP.”
“Wait,” I interject as she’s about to scurry off. I hadn’t planned to do this yet, but on an impulse, I fish out a key from my wallet, offering it to her. “This is for an apartment you can stay in if you don’t feel safe here. I’ll email you the address when I get back in the car.”
Her eyes nearly pop out at the sight of the key.
