Jared was still trying to cool his arousal. “Look who’s talking.”
“How wasIbeing unfair?”
“Early mornings—do you have any idea what it does to a man to hear a woman talk about early mornings in that soft, very feminine tone of voice?”
“You’re a fine one to talk about tones of voice,” she accused. “Yours are nearly pornographic.”
“Does my voice turn you on?”
“Damn right, it does.”
“Then maybe we’re even,” he mumbled. A second later, he raised his voice. “How wasIbeing unfair?”
“By dropping that little bomb about your ex-wife when I don’t have time to follow it up. I’m supposed to be back at Will’s by five.”
The thought was sobering. “What will you do there for three hours?”
“Go a little crazy,” she said in a grim tone. “I want to be sure everything’s set for the drop, then make sure Will stays sane. If it weren’t for Megan, I’d work here until later. But I’m having trouble concentrating, so I wouldn’t accomplish much anyway. We’ll probably waste a little time ordering in dinner—waste, because I doubt any of us will be hungry. Except Sammy and Hank. They always eat.”
“Can I drive you over there?”
“No.”
“Can I deliver dinner?”
“No—uh, maybe—no, you’d better not.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think it would be smart.”
“I’ll take Melissa’s Volkswagen, and it’ll be dark, anyway. Just call that number I gave you—the private one—when you decide what you want. I’ll call in the order, pick it up, and deliver it.”
“What a pain in the neck for you.”
Jared didn’t respond with words. She felt his answer in an uncanny sense of awareness that came over the line. He wanted to see her again. She couldn’t fight that.
“You have that conference call to make at six,” she said softly.
“I’ll make it at five.”
“Can you do that?”
“I’m the one with the most money. I can do it. I’ll be free by six.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked very softly.
“I’ll be waiting for your call. Talk with you soon.” He hung up before she could say another word.
***
At six-thirty, Jared showed up at the Vandermeers’ back door carrying an assortment of Big Macs, Chicken McNuggets, salads, fries, and drinks. Savannah met him, led him into the kitchen only far enough to put the bags on the table, then hurried him back to the door. Once there, she tried to press a twenty-dollar bill into his hand. He promptly slid it into the vee of her pale gray wool blouse. His fingers lingered for a split second on her skin, then left. His eyes lingered longer.
“Let me know what’s happening?” he asked in a husky murmur.
“I don’t know where I’ll be or when I’ll get home.” She was gently pushing him toward the door.
“Try. Okay?” Taking her hand from his arm, he enclosed it in his. “Why are you trying to get rid of me? Do I embarrass you?”
