His existing smile only broadened as his hands crept beneath the dress where he found the tops of her lacy hold-ups. “You will have to decide Elvis or a JP real soon at this rate, baby. I like these shoes. They go with everything; pretty dresses, bikinis and even dresses that are far too short for air travel.” He arched a brow. “Come on, we need to go before I change my mind about going out.”
He grabbed his things, took her hand in his and led her to the black convertible Mercedes, a CL something she thought. She knew what car she drove, but had very little real knowledge of cars. She wasn’t a snob and had no real interest in competing with anyone via material objects.
“Yours?”
“Yes,” he answered laughing, wondering whose car it would be if not his.
“But you have Mike.” She knew there were a variety of cars Jim had access to.
“Yes, I do, but I also like to drive myself and he does driving on behalf of me for the studio too, and stuff around the place. He isn’t my chauffeur, and he has a life.”
Tasha thought the explanation he’d given didn’t sound in anyway superior or as if he was showing off. “I like to drive myself, too, it gives you freedom.”
Jim gave her a thoughtful glance as he considered her word and the way she’d said it, like it was something she never thought she’d have,freedom.
“Lizzie said you weren’t comfortable being chauffeured,” he revealed with a half-smile causing a full smile to break across Tasha’s face.
“Loose Lipped Lizzie says a lot, doesn’t she?” She smiled at the girl’s inherent need to report everything back to Jim and smiled more as she figured it meant she had nothing but trust in her father and his motives.
Jim laughed at her name for Lizzie. “Yes, but she likes you.”
“I know. She told me and text me to tell me, as did number one.”
Jim drove expertly through the winding hills leaving Tasha to flick through his music and stopped at David Bowie.
“You like?” He frowned, thinking some of the older stuff on his playlists might not be to Tasha’s taste.
“What’s not to like?” She began singing very loudly to Ziggy Stardust making him laugh.
“Is that a trained voice?”
“God no! This is my, I am happy and having a great time voice.”
“I think you should try it out professionally, it’s my personal favourite.” He reached across the space between them and squeezed her knee tightly, causing a cocktail of feelings and emotions to flood her brain at his words as well as his touch.
“I’m glad you’re not mad with me.” She really was and wanted him, no, needed him to understand just how much his opinions and feelings mattered to her even if it was ridiculous.
“You do drive me crazy, Tasha. You really do infuriate me and I can’t quite understand how you do that to me so soon.”
“So you are still mad at me?” she asked, confused by his earlier playfulness and now his revelation about just how easily she managed to annoy him.
“Yes, no, maybe, but not as mad as I was,” he admitted before quickly changing the subject. “Have you thought of your questions for over dinner?”
“What questions?”
“The getting to know each other questions?”
“No.” She realised she’d been so lost in her own confusing ideas and thoughts she really had given question time no thought at all. “I often just say the first thing as it comes into my head and I also thought we already had a fairly busy agenda.”
“True. We can catch up tomorrow. I enjoyed sexting you today.”
“Good, I liked it too. Did you really spray coffee?” She giggled.
“Oh yes. Straight across the conference table. Marc is most concerned for my mental health.”
“He could have a point.” She laughed again.
“I would put you over my knee for that if I didn’t know how much you’d enjoy it.”
