prefer—I mean, what for?”
“So I can ask you out.” His playful dimple seemed out of place in that lean, dangerous face.
Her toes curled inside her pumps. A rush of excitement tightened her chest. “I thought this was a…a business transaction.”
“It is. I just happened to ask for your number in the middle of it.”
“Don’t take this personally, but it’s been a bad night,” she said.
He nodded. “Of course. That’s why I’m just getting your number, for now. I’ll wait a decent interval before I call and ask you out.”
Abby tugged her skirt over her thighs. “What’s a decent interval?”
“Hadn’t thought about it yet,” he said. “A week? A couple days? Twelve hours? What do you think would be a decent interval?”
“Let’s stick to business,” she said. “How much do I owe you?”
He looked thoughtful. Sheba butted his hand with her fuzzy head. He stroked her obligingly. “That depends,” he said.
“On what?” she demanded.
“On the client. If the dickwad in the Porsche had called me—what was his name? Edward? Edmund?”
“Oh. Edgar.”
“If it were Edgar, I’d jack up the price as much as my conscience allows, which is a lot. Then I’d make him pay before I opened the door.”
Abby was suspicious of that teasing dimple. “And why is that?”
He shrugged. “He could afford it. Plus, he’d been driving under the influence, which pisses me off.”
“I’m not drunk,” she said. “How do you know I wasn’t driving?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like that meathead would ever let a girl drive his eighty-thousand-dollar penis substitute.”
She shook with nervous giggles. “You have a point. I tried to get him to let me drive. The harder I tried, the faster he went.”
“Dickhead,” Zan commented. “Truth is, I wouldn’t have come at all if I hadn’t liked your voice so much. I just had to see who owned that sexy Southern drawl. Where are you from, anyway?”
Abby tried three times before she could make any sound come out of her throat. “Atlanta. But that’s, ah, irrelevant. And inappropriate.”
“Oh, don’t mind me.” His voice was silky. “I’m just stalling.”
“I see that.” She grabbed her checkbook. “What do I owe you?”
“But as soon as you write that check, I’ll have to go away.” His fingers dug into the thick fur of Sheba’s belly. Her tail lashed wildly.
Abby wrenched her gaze away from the spectacle. “Stop stalling and tell me how much I owe you, Mr., er…”
“Duncan. Call me Zan.” He pulled out a card and laid it on her counter. “I could cut you a deal. I always cut my friends a deal.”
Abby’s heart thudded heavily. It was a reaction to the adrenaline, she told herself. Not to the idea of being his, ah…friend.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m really obligated to you already,” she said. “Please, just tell me your fee. It’s late.”
His eyebrows lifted. “No phone number?”
“No.” She poised the pen over the check.
He looked wistful. “OK. Make it for a hundred and twenty, then.”
Abby slapped the pen onto the counter. “That’s highway robbery!”
He blinked. “At least I didn’t ask you to pay me in advance.”
“You couldn’t have! My checkbook was locked inside!”
“I never said I wasn’t practical.” His eyes gleamed. Sheba had abandoned herself, fluffy tail dangling over his arm like a feather boa. “I didn’t mean to piss you off. I thought you didn’t want to feel obligated.”
“Sure, but there are limits!”
“I’ll make a deal with you, then,” he said. “Your lock is crap. Let me replace it with something decent. A Schlage, maybe. Parts and labor, plus the lockout, two hundred bucks. It’s a great deal.”
She tried not to laugh. “You are an opportunist.”
“One seventy-five, then, parts and labor. I swear, you won’t regret it. Call around, do a price comparison, if you want.”
Sheba yawned hugely and stretched, in a state of utter bliss.
Abby flipped open her checkbook. This had dragged on long enough, and it was her own damn fault for encouraging him. “Who do I make this stupid check out to?”
“Make it out to Night Owl Lock & Safe,” he said.
“Tomorrow I’m going to make some calls to see what the going rate is for a nighttime lockout,” she said, scribbling the check.
“Be my guest.”
She ripped it out of the book. “If I find that you’ve egregiously overcharged me, I’m going to call the Better Business Bureau.”
“You do that,” he said. “Then call me up and tell me what an evil, greedy, grasping bastard I am. Any hour of the day or night is fine.”
She held out the check. “Take this. And put my cat down.”
“But she loves me,” he protested. “She’s as limp as a noodle.”
“Thank you, and good night,” she said sternly.
He hesitated, frowning. “It’s true, what I said about your lock.”
“What would it cost to install a lock you couldn’t get through?”
A slow smile curved his lips. “It would cost you a fortune to install a lock I couldn’t get through. I’m good. Patient, thorough…tireless.”
She broke eye contact and shook with nervous laughter. “My goodness. You certainly do have a high opinion of yourself.”
“Yes.” The word was spoken entirely without vanity.
She blew out a sharp breath. “What a night. First Edgar, now you. Just take your check, please.” She pushed it across the counter.
Zan’s smile had vanished. “I am nothing like Edgar,” he said flatly. “I have nothing in common with that shit-eating insect.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, flustered. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
