“That probably won’t be until tomorrow.”
“Then you’ll go home tomorrow.”
The brakes labor as I pull up under the overhang at the front of my condo. The valet opens Dee’s side first, and she’s out of the door before I am.
“Mr. Peters, would you like your car parked?” He’s well trained to be discreet and isn’t about to mention the woman he just saw fleeing.
“Yes, thank you.” I’ll catch up with her better on foot.
As I chase after Dee, splattering through the puddles with the rain teeming down on me, Victor’s words come back to me.Same old story, with Dee running and you chasing. Haven’t you figured out by now that Dee doesn’t want to get caught?
“Dee!” I call when I’m nearly at her back. She doesn’t slow her stride. I don’t want to get physical, but damn it, she won’t stop. I grab her arm and spin her around to face me. “Where the hell are you going?”
“If you won’t take me to my car, I’ll get there by cab.” She struggles out of my grip and I let go, hoping like hell not to have to chase her again. But knowing if I have to, I will.
“You can’t actually be serious about driving home in a storm, even to spite me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she retorts. “I’m going to spend the night in my office. I have a couch.”
“You think I’m going to let you spend the night alone in a vacant office building?”
“Let me?” she repeats, her voice rising with indignation. “I’m a grown woman, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed.” My eyes rake over the suit plastered to her curves. “But I’m still not letting you go anywhere in this.” And to prove it, I pluck the keys from her fingers and pocket them.
In one breath she goes from annoyed to fuming. “I thought that I had seen some redeeming qualities in you tonight. But I was wrong. You are nothing but an arrogant, overbearing ass.”
“And you’re too bullheaded for your own good.”
“Go to hell!” she snarls.
“That may happen yet. But until the storm blows over, I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“Are you to add kidnapping to your list of crimes?”
My head snaps back as if I’ve taken an uppercut to the chin. “What crimes am I guilty of, Dee?”
“Forget it. Just give me back my keys.”
I’m still reeling from her accusation, but my chief concern is for Dee’s safety. I lost my mother in a car accident, and I wasn’t going to chance losing Dee. “You can have them back when the storm’s over.”
Angry, she stomps away, but at least it’s toward the building. When we reach the entrance, we’re both drenched and breathing hard.
“Mr. Peters,” the doorman greets me. “Thank goodness you made it back in time. The weather advisory is warning people off the roadways.”
Dee glares at me as if I’d scripted his line. I take her by the wrist and tug her onto the private elevator, out of earshot of the lobby staff.
We squish when we move, and our sodden clothes stick to our bodies. Dee must feel as miserable as I do. “I have dry clothes and an extra bed upstairs. You’re welcome to both for the night.”
“No, thank you.”
“You’d rather wait in a lobby in your wet clothes than come up to my place?”
“I’d rather have my keys back.”
I have no intention of complying, so I ignore that. “What exactly are you afraid is going to happen, Dee?”
“As if you have to ask.”
