owed Mr. Varos. She knew she could do a good job. She could do an excellent job. And she would, because of all she had at stake. She had a huge broken promise to make up for. And that was above and beyond everything this job would do for her career.
She experienced another surge of nervous anticipation and smoothed her navy linen jacket. Her high heels pinched a little, but that was a small price to pay. She’d dressed for success, wanting to make a top-notch impression. Though she wouldn’t see Mr. Varos, himself, he would hear about the project. She didn’t want a single, solitary negative word getting back to him, about her work or herself. She would be a professional from the tip of her head to the ends of her aching toes. No mealymouthed behavior this time. Nothing would go wrong. She would prove to Mr. Varos that his faith in her was not misplaced.
She shifted her weight in her all-business shoes, trying to make the ache in her toes go away. Eagerly she scanned everyone who passed by, her smile hopeful and expectant. Almost pleading, “Please be from Mr. Varos’s staff!”
After forty-five gut-wrenching minutes, her feet were killing her and her face muscles hurt from all the futile smiling. She was near the extreme end of the terminal wing. Everyone had left the area who’d been on her flight. Even stragglers whose loved ones arrived late were gone.
A smattering of strangers ambled by on their way to the final couple of gates, and a handful of early arrivals for the next flight out of Kalli’s gate drifted up and milled around, waiting for a departure still an hour and a half away. Even so, in view of Kalli’s state of mind, she felt very alone as she loitered by a pillar she was beginning to hate. She wished she’d opted to vegetate sitting down. It would have been just as easy to be ignored and forgotten in a seated position as it had been standing around in those cruel new shoes.
She didn’t want to believe the offer was a joke, that Mr. Varos had never intended to give her the assignment. She wanted to believe there was a good explanation, and if she was patient someone would arrive. Possibly the traffic was bad.
She could always call his office. She had the number. The only question was, how long did she wait before she sought out a telephone? Why hadn’t she bought a cellular? Everybody else in the universe had one. That was the very next thing she promised herself she’d do. After this job—or this—prank.
She sighed, worried and tired. What if somebody had been there but didn’t recognize her from the picture. Her hair had been shorter then. At a loss, she mumbled, “Maybe I should have made a big sign that said I’m Kalli Angelis.”
“That’s not necessary,” came a masculine voice from so nearby she jumped and clasped a hand over her heart. Spinning she saw him. Tall, straight and powerfully built. A shaft of sunlight gave a luminous radiance to earth-colored hair, and it gleamed like a dark halo. She stared wordlessly.
His face was angular, his features pleasantly strong. Sunglasses veiled his eyes, which was too bad, since a shadowy half smile rode a surprisingly sensuous mouth. She wished she could know what his eyes said, since his lips seemed to find her vaguely amusing—in an annoying way. Maybe having to pick her up had unhinged his schedule. “Miss Angelis, I’m your ride,” he said, in that same, low drawl. A rough-sexy edge to his voice made his innocent statement sound downright naughty, but she sensed the erotic delivery was completely uncontrived.
Dressed as he was, in jeans, rust colored Henley shirt and work boots, he didn’t look like a man who contrived anything. His attitude and attire fairly shouted, “I am what I am, so deal with it!” She experienced an appreciative shiver along her spine. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it certainly hadn’t been anything like this hunk.
He cleared his throat. Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could see his lips, which indicated the irritation was winning out over amusement. His rankled perusal, even masked by dark glasses, made it clear he expected some kind of response. Preferably this year.
Belatedly she nodded. “Oh—my ride? Great. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” As he scooped up her carry-on bag, his lips kicked downward at the corners divulging the unvarnished truth. It was really no pleasure at all.
She experienced a twinge. “I—I thought I’d been abandoned—you’re so late.”
“Am I?” He pursed his lips. “Perhaps I got the arrival time wrong.” He indicated the direction and began to walk off with her bag. “This way.”
After an instant’s surprised hesitation by his abrupt departure, she scurried up beside him. “Uh—well, at least you’re here, now. That’s what counts. I gather you’re giving me a ride to Mr. Varos’s estate?”
He canted his head in her direction. “Good guess.”
She made a disgruntled face at his surly attitude, but he didn’t see it, since he’d turned away. His strides were long and she had to run to keep up, which was torture on her pinched feet. “Is there some kind of huge hurry?”
“Not huge.”
He didn’t look at her or slow his pace. She eyed his hawkish profile with growing aggravation. “Really?” she shot back. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to be surly. “Then how fast would we be running if it was huge?”
This time when he glanced her way, he slowed. “Am I walking too fast?”
“Not if we’re entered in a marathon. But if you don’t want to lose me in the airport, you might be. These are not exactly jogging shoes.” She indicated her high heels, her expression admonishing.
She couldn’t tell if he even bothered to glance at her feet, but she could detect bunching in his jaw muscles. “Sorry.” He resumed his trek, only infinitesimally slower than before. A telling indication of how little he cared about her feelings.
“Gee whiz.” She sprinted along beside him. “This is so much better. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
She scowled. He had a way of saying “My pleasure” that sounded suspiciously like “Go to hell.”
“We’ll need to—go to baggage claim,” she said, sorry to hear herself panting like a thirsty basset hound. “Do you know—the way to baggage claim?”
He flicked a harsh look her way. At least she thought he did, but he didn’t say anything. When he turned a corner, she skidded around it, too.
“So—what do you do when you’re not fetching people at airports?” she asked, trying to make conversation.
“I mind my own business.”
She stumbled, but regained her balance in time to keep from falling on her backside. Breaking into a sprint, she caught up with him. “Well, that—that was rude!” She grabbed his wrist, sturdy and warm and masculine. She didn’t know what she expected, but touching his flesh had a startling effect on her.
She swallowed. “I presume you work for Mr. Varos?” She said it in a tone meant to threaten that she would tattle about his boorishness, and quite possibly get him fired. She would never actually do such a thing, but this bad-mannered lout didn’t need to know. “Because, he should be informed about how you treat people!”
Her escort came to a stop so abruptly she was a step beyond him before she realized it. She whirled back as his head tilted down, making it plain he was focusing on her hand clutching his
