something that surely couldn’t have been regret. She sat up straighter, took the coat from her lap, and tossed it into the back seat.
‘Of course. You can drop me off at—at...’
Where? Her breath caught. It was a damned good question, and she had no answer. She had no idea where to get the flight to Barovnia. Walt Hemple hadn’t told her.
‘Well?’ Her rescuer slowed to a crawl. ‘Look,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’ve a plane to catch myself and not a hell of a lot of time to do it in. Where shall I drop you?’
Her mind spun in frantic circles. What now? She glanced at the dashboard clock. Ten minutes? Ten minutes to make her flight. No, she thought grimly. Not her flight. Her career. If she missed that plane, she might as well never show her face at WorldWeek again.
‘Come on, lady,’ the stranger said. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.
His dark eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t know? What in hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘It means—it means he didn’t tell me,’ she said a bit shakily.
His expression grew even more grim. ‘He didn’t tell you? You mean, you agreed to go away with some guy for the weekend without...?’
‘No!’ Dorian’s eyes flashed with green fire. ‘I certainly did not. And I resent the implication.’
His mouth seemed to soften a little. ‘It wouldn’t be so extraordinary, would it?’ He smiled. ‘A beautiful woman going away with her boyfriend for a couple of days, I mean.’
Some of the stiffness went out of her spine. ‘No. I just—you had no right to assume—’ She broke off. What in heaven’s name did it matter what he assumed? He was a stranger; she would never see him again after this. She sighed and looked at him. ‘I’m not going away for pleasure,’ she said. ‘I’m flying out on business.’
‘Ah.’ His smile tilted. ‘As am I.’
‘And it’s—well, it’s an important trip. But my boss forgot to tell me where my plane would be leaving from.’
His smile broadened. ‘The problem’s easily solved. Take a look at your ticket. The name of the airline will be on it.’
His suggestion gave her hope—until she remembered that all Walt had handed her was the library material and petty-cash voucher.
Dorian blew out her breath. ‘I don’t have a ticket.’
‘I see. You’re supposed to pick it up at the counter, hmm?’ He shrugged before she could say anything. ‘Well, call your boss and talk to him.’ He reached for the cellular phone.
‘No,’ she said quickly, stilling his hand. He looked at her, brows lifted, and she gave him a nervous smile. ‘You don’t know him. I—I don’t think he’d be very happy to find out that I’d screwed up.’
The stranger frowned. ‘But it’s his fault, surely.’
Dorian sighed. ‘You don’t know my boss. He might not see it that way.’ Her shoulders rose and fell in a little shrug. ‘This job I’ve been sent on is important, you see. It’s hard to explain, but—’
‘You don’t have to explain.’ He made a sound that was not quite a laugh. ‘I know all about important jobs, and how they have to be dealt with even when they seem damned near impossible.’
Dorian nodded. ‘Impossible,’ she repeated—and all at once, to her horror, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back quickly, but not before he’d seen their tell-tale glitter.
‘Hell!’ His brows knotted together as he undid his seatbelt and moved towards her. ‘No job is worth that.’
‘This one is.’ She swallowed hard. ‘You don’t under-stand—’
‘I told you.’ His voice was harsh. ‘I do understand, better than you could possibly imagine.’ His frown deepened, and then he began to smile. ‘What if you just forgot about it?’
Dorian stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Your job.’
‘Just—walk away from it?’ She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t.’
‘Why not? Where is it written that one must do whatever one is told?’
She gave a puzzled laugh. ‘But that’s what having a job is all about,’ she said, watching him closely. ‘You do what you have to do.’
He moved closer to her. ‘What I said about Martinique is true, you know.’ His eyes searched hers; he gave her a sudden, swift smile. ‘We could have a late supper at that little place on the beach, then go for a walk in the moonlight.’
Dorian shook her head. So, she hadn’t been wrong about his intentions after all. He’d been coming on to her all the time, just waiting for the right moment to make his move.
Still, she’d never had an invitation to any place as exotic as this. His line was different, she had to admit that—so different that it made her want to smile, something that had seemed impossible only seconds ago.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said lightly.
He clasped her shoulders. ‘Give me one good reason why.’
She smiled. ‘Well,’ she said, still in the same light tone of voice, ‘it’s pouring cats and dogs.’
He shook his head. ‘Not in Martinique.’ His hands moved slowly from her shoulders to her face. ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t dream of letting it rain in Martinique tonight.’
He looked deep into her eyes, and suddenly she wasn’t smiling any more. No, she thought crazily, no, he wouldn’t let it rain. He would make the moon come up, the stars fill the skies. He would—he would...
His gaze dropped to her mouth. ‘Let me take you to Martinique, kitten.’
Dorian swallowed drily. ‘Kitten?’
‘That’s what you looked like, standing there in the rain.’ His gaze met hers. ‘A little wet kitten, with its fur all matted down, needing somebody to dry it and cuddle it until it purred again.’
He cupped the back of her head; his hand gentled the silken strands of her hair that had dried in soft curls on the nape of her neck.
Dorian gave a little shudder. He was good at this, her brain said in a sharp whisper. He was very good. The way he was watching her, as if only she and he existed in the entire universe. The smile that promised pleasure. The soft, smoky voice that surely sounded as if he’d never said any of these things to another woman—it was all part of an act, one he’d probably used a dozen times before.
And yet—and yet...
‘Sweet little kitten.’ Her breath caught as he bent to her and pressed a light kiss to her damp hair. ‘Say you’ll come with me.’
