She Did a Bad, Bad Thing. Stephanie Bond
“I didn’t get your last name,” he said a few paces behind her.
She rolled her eyes—as if he remembered her first name.
He caught up to her and gave her a little smile.
“Come on, we’re neighbors—I should know your last name.”
“It’s Kurtz. Goodbye.” She strode past her empty parking spot toward the guest parking area, relieved to be away from him, although she could feel his gaze boring into her back, surveying her chinos, yellow polo shirt, black Skechers sneakers and ponytail. Was he fascinated in her as a geeky specimen?
When she reached her car, she groaned to see a sizable dent in her driver’s side door, obviously caused by the door of another car that was long gone. She removed her dark glasses and bent to run her hand over the dent—her car was old, but she tried to take good care of it. To add insult to injury, she realized suddenly that her back tire was flat, caused, no doubt, by the nail sticking out of it. A handful of nails lay scattered around the back of her car, probably dropped by some maintenance worker who also parked in the guest area.
She blinked back hot tears—she didn’t need this. She’d overslept because she was so tired and was already running late.
At the sound of a car slowing, she turned her head to see the big, black SUV, and Perry leaning toward the lowered passenger side window.
“Need a ride?”
She wiped her eyes and jammed the glasses back on her face. “No, I’ll call a repair service.”
“That could take a while. I can drop you wherever you need to be.”
She massaged her temples—she just wanted the vile man to go away.
“I feel responsible,” he called, then leaned over and opened the passenger side door. “Let me do this.”
Jane stared at the open door. Then she glanced at her watch. It would mean the difference between her getting to work on time or throwing her entire day—and maybe the show—off schedule.
“Come on,” he cajoled. Jane decided it was the least he could do since his girlfriend was the root cause of her current predicament.
She walked over and took the hand he extended to climb into the SUV. His fingers were strong and warm as they enclosed hers. She clambered into the seat with an unladylike bounce, and tugged her hand from his. She closed the door and sat as close to it as possible while she put on her seatbelt. Perry was smiling at her like some kind of gallant knight in training. Even through the dark glasses, she could see he was more handsome in his suit than he’d been half-dressed last night. And she was surprised to discover that Nasty Boy had a professional job.
“Where am I taking you?” he asked.
She tore her gaze from him to stare straight ahead and gave him the street address.
“That’s the cable TV station, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“What do you do for them?”
Jane squirmed, reluctant to give the man any more ammunition to use against her.
“I work on a local talk show.”
“What’s the name of the show?”
“Just Between Us.”
“Hey, that’s the show with the looker host, right?”
“Eve Best…yes, she’s beautiful.” Jane looked out the window, with the words that he’d said about her own appearance looping in her head. Homely little geek…homely little geek…homely little geek. She inched closer to the door.
“Sounds like an exciting job,” he said, but she didn’t offer any commentary. The silence stretched awkwardly, and she willed the morning traffic to move faster.
His cell phone rang and he said, “Excuse me,” then hit a hands-free speaker button on his visor. “Perry Brewer.”
“You’re late,” a woman’s voice accused.
“Good morning to you, too, Theresa. I’m on my way.”
“You’re due in court in thirty minutes, cowboy. Are you going to make it?”
“I’ll be there,” he said smoothly. “And I have the files I need.”
“I don’t have to tell you what’s riding on this hearing, Perry.”
“No, Theresa, you don’t,” he said, his voice more solemn.
“Good luck. Call me when it’s over.”
“Will do.” He disconnected the call, then glanced over at Jane. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” she said. “But it sounds as if I’m making you late. You can let me out here and I’ll get a taxi.”
“No need,” he said easily. “We’re almost there, and I’ll be going against traffic when I leave your office.”
Silence fell between them again, and Jane started to feel rude for not reciprocating his small talk. “So you’re an attorney?”
He cracked a little smile. “That’s what my business card says.”
“And you have a big case today?”
“Bigger than most.”
She pictured him in front of a courtroom and realized that the man was probably good at what he did—he was, after all, charming, convincing…two-faced.
With the requisite small talk out of the way, she concentrated on the bumper of the car in front of them, checked the strap on her shoulder bag and generally fidgeted. The man made her nervous and hyperaware of her appearance. Next to his ultra-feminine girlfriend, she felt like a boy.
And she didn’t like it.
PERRY WATCHED the slender woman next to him out of the corner of his eye, squirming, positioning herself as far away from him as possible. He felt like a jerk. Seeing those puffy eyes of hers this morning was like a punch to his gut—it didn’t take a genius to figure out that his callous words of the night before had upset her…had made her cry all night from the looks of it.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, remorse coursing through him. Words of apology watered in his mouth, but he had a feeling that he’d only make things worse if he brought it up. Still, he had to own up to his bad behavior.
“Listen…Jane,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I have a big mouth and I have a feeling that you overheard something I said last night that…was unkind.”
She didn’t say anything, but he could tell by the way she stiffened that he was right—she had over-heard him…and her red-rimmed eyes had nothing to do with allergies.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“No need to apologize,” she said quickly, tugging on the strap of her bag. “You have a right to your opinion.”
“But I didn’t mean it. I was in a bad mood and I’d had too much to drink.”
She gave him a little half smile. “It’s okay, Mr. Brewer—I have a mirror. I know that I’m not…exciting.”
The resignation in her voice tugged at his heart. “Jane—”
“That’s my building on the corner. I’ll get out here.”
“I’ll drive you to the front—”
But she was already out of the vehicle, swinging down to the curb.
“Do you need a ride home?” he shouted, strangely eager to do something else for her.
“No, thanks. Good luck on your case.” Then she slammed