a little and put her hand to her back. “You want to know what a baby on the way feels like? He’s kicking so hard. Heck, it hurts, though.”
“You—you’re having the kid?” It was the first voice— Jason—and all the aggression was gone. “It’s Jenny, isn’t it? I recognize you now. Heck. You want me to get my mom?”
“Thanks, Jason, but I think I need a hospital more than your mom.” Jenny was allowing the tremor in her voice to grow. “If Mr. Lord would only get back…”
That was a cue if ever he heard one. Michael emerged from the shadows, carrying her suitcase.
“Mr. Lord.” Jenny practically fell on his neck. “You took so long.”
“Is it getting worse?” Following her lead, he appeared not to notice the youths.
“Two minutes apart,” she said, clutching her back and grimacing. “I’m having a bad one now. Please…let’s go.”
Michael threw the case in the back and climbed into the car. His face was grim. “Yeah, right.”
“Good luck,” one of the boys said, and Michael looked up as if he’d only just noticed him.
“Thanks.”
“I meant the lady,” the boy said, and as the car started, he added, “hey, don’t spit the kid out onto his leather seats, Jenny. You’ll be sacked for that, no sweat!”
There was good-humored laughter as they headed out of sight.
“THAT,” MICHAEL SAID carefully as they nosed onto the street, “was amazing.” He moved the car forward, not fast enough to draw attention—the Corvette got enough of that as it was—but fast enough to be out of there if anyone had followed him down the fire escape. “I thought there was going to be trouble. That was great acting.”
“Who said I was acting?”
He almost crashed. The car veered toward the wrong side of the road, and Jenny grabbed the wheel and chuckled. “Hey, okay, I was joking. Watch the road.”
His blood pressure lurched and settled, and he glared at the woman by his side. “Thanks for the advice.”
She dimpled. “My pleasure. Honest, though, there was no problem. They’re not bad kids.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. They steal cars, but maybe I would, too, if I was as bored as they are. And they won’t hurt anyone. Besides, it’s stupid to drive a car like this.”
“Yeah, right.” He grimaced. “You sound like a schoolmarm.”
“Well…” She managed another smile. Smiles seemed her specialty, and he realized suddenly why he’d liked having her around the office the past few months. Her smile lit up all sorts of dark places, and some of those dark places were right inside him.
But she hadn’t noticed his reaction. “I guess if you’re rich enough to afford it then you can drive it,” she said, “but you should have an ordinary one so you can pretend to be an ordinary person sometimes.”
“Pretend?”
“I’d never presume to call you an ordinary person,” she said, eyes twinkling. “After all, you’re my boss.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I know which side my bread’s buttered on.” She dimpled nicely, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and then hesitated, her laughter fading. “But I guess you’re not my boss now. If you could take me to the bus station…”
“The bus station?”
“It’s where you go to catch a bus when you don’t have a car like this to drive. Or any car to drive.” Her smile suddenly didn’t reach her eyes. “Michael—Mr. Lord—I’m really grateful—”
“You’re not working for me anymore, so it’s Michael,” he said curtly. “And you’re not going to any bus station. The immigration guys were arriving at your apartment as I left. Your landlady will let them in, they’ll discover your gear is gone, and they’ll think, ‘She knows we’re looking for her. She’s on the run.’ So where do you think they’ll look?”
“The airport?” she asked doubtfully, but he shook his head.
“No. They’ll never let you on board a plane looking this pregnant, and immigration knows that. So where?”
She was silent, sitting in the plush leather seat and trying to make her jumbled mind think. “I guess the bus station’s not such a hot idea, then.”
“No.”
More silence. Michael turned off the main road and headed to the river.
“Where are we going?” she asked. She chewed her lip, stubbornness returning. “I guess if you could drop me at a hotel, somewhere cheap—”
“They’ll think of that, too. It’ll take them twenty minutes to phone every hotel in town, and you’re not exactly easily disguised.”
She closed her eyes.
“Do you have any money?” Michael asked her curiously, and he saw her anger flash again.
“Of course I have money. Why do you think I’ve been living so cheaply for the past six months? I’ve saved everything.”
“So you’re intending to live on what you’ve saved from six months’ salary while you have the baby?” Michael asked incredulously. “No wonder the immigration people want you out. You’re hardly independent.”
“I’m independent.”
“You’re not.” He sighed and steered his car to where the oaks lined the cliff tops overlooking the river. There was a place there he knew. Quiet. Private. It was hardly the sort of place detectives would look for a fugitive.
He pulled to a stop and turned to face the woman beside him, and discovered she had the look of someone who expected to be slapped. Hard. It was a dreadful look. He gazed at her for a long moment and discovered feelings shifting inside him that had never shifted in his life. Feelings he didn’t understand one bit.
It put him off balance. Michael Lord was unemotional, detached, cool as ice, and now he suddenly found himself emotional, attached and hot as fire. Damn, who had done this to her? he thought savagely. He had to know.
“Tell me about this person you’re so afraid of, this Gloria,” he said, and waited.
For a while he didn’t think she’d tell him. She sat staring straight ahead at the deep-running river below. The weather was perfect, Michael thought inconsequentially, autumn perfect. He’d put the top down on the Corvette, and the sun was warm on their faces.
She looked as if she needed its comfort, he thought, and suddenly had to resist the urge to put an arm around those frail shoulders. She was making him feel too proprietary for words.
But he still
