I knew he didn’t like that, but we’d had the argument where he’d try to order a car for me and that wasn’t something I’d let himdo.
What are youwearing?
My breath left my body in a rush. Oh. So maybe weweregoing there. I glanced behind me at the three people sitting in the back. One guy stared out the window, a young woman looked asleep, and the third was an old woman,knitting.
A red dress I had to buy for this fancy partytonight.
What does it feellike?
And just like that, I was wet, remembering the way he’d explored me. I ran a hand down mythigh.
It’s that thick silk. A little rough and the fabric’s stiff. No idea what it’scalled.
Dupioni?
How the hell do you knowthat?
Just looked itup.
I couldn’t get over how fast he worked on his phone or his watch or whatever. He did things with mind-bogglingspeed.
Wow.
When will I seeyou?
I huffed out another nervous breath. Nervous because I could see him, in theory, tonight.Right now.There was nothing on the schedule for tomorrow but some letters to sign. I glanced out the window at the passing houses. If I got off in two stops and backtracked to 10th Avenue, I could stop by the drug store and grab the uptown busand…
Very bad idea, my mind insisted, but my hands didn’tlisten.
You busynow?
I wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or flattered that the pause before his answer was about ten seconds longer than for Dupi-whateversilk.
Let me send you acar.
I’m on the bus. Be there in20
I’d once dated a man for five months before having sex with him, but if Zach Hubler broached the subject at all tonight, I would jump him, no questionsasked.
I almost fell getting off, of course, and then realized I should have gone home to change and maybe—definitely—accepted a car ride from him, but it was toolate.
I got a couple side-eyes and one long, sleazy smile in the drugstore, especially when I plunked the pack of condoms on the counter. But whatever. Forget them. I was beingresponsible.
The next bus took forever to show up, so I sat on the bench, in the dark, in my too-expensive dress, too-tiny purse, and too-high heels, carrying a pack of condoms in a plastic bag, feeling beyond nervous. When it finally arrived, I climbed on, plunked into a seat and bit my nails all the way to hisneighborhood.
Every drop of anticipation had morphed into anxiety or something so that, when I pulled off the shoes to walk the last two blocks, the wordsbad ideaechoed with every step, and I was close to turningaround.
Halfway up the driveway, though, I spotted the house. Even in the dark, I could see that it had been cleaned up and fixed. It no longer looked like the haunted place where an ax-murderer might hunker down, but instead had the lookof…
Holy shit. How had I not noticed how huge itwas?
I scanned the front. It was one of those big, clapboard farmhouses that keep getting eaten by urban sprawl. The yard had been cleaned up and trimmed and mowed and, suddenly, it wasn’t a yard anymore but more like one of those fancy gardens you’d see in a magazine. To the side, where I didn’t remember there being a building at all, a garage stood, a perfect match to the main house, with its neat blacktrim.
And the whole thing was perfectly illuminated by outdoor lights, which I didn’t think had been there before. This place had more in common with tonight’s fundraiser venue than my crappy downtownapartment.
Something flopped around in my belly. The man had money. Or resources orsomething.
Who ishe?
