doubtfully. “Well…”
“Is that a problem?”
Riley didn’t suppose it would be any use trying to explain to him just how much of a problem it was. She would lay odds that he’d been born chewing on a mouthful of silver spoons—or if not, that he owned a drawerful of them now. She sighed. “I’ll work it out. I’m responsible.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Her indignation resurfaced. “I am a responsible person. And a good driver!” Although she’d learned in America she’d become accustomed to driving on the “wrong” side of the road in England even before coming to live in New Zealand.
Silently he turned his head and looked at the damage she’d done.
“We all make mistakes!” she protested. “You did, when you thought I was taking off.”
His considering, gunmetal eyes met her defiant brown ones. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I accept that.”
Riley’s relief was disproportionate. She couldn’t help breaking into a smile, her wide mouth tilting up at the corners, her lips parting. “Thank you,” she said.
He must have noticed the crooked tooth, because his gaze remained riveted on her mouth and there was the strangest expression on his face, as if he’d just seen something that he found utterly disconcerting.
Maybe he was a dentist. After all, the tooth was a very small imperfection—one of many, including the few freckles peppering her nose—and surely not all that noticeable?
Involuntarily her tongue moved almost protectively to touch the tooth, but something rebelled against showing her self-consciousness and she quickly altered the movement, instead unthinkingly moistening her lips.
His head twitched up slightly, and his eyes narrowed as again they met hers.
No! she thought, blinking at the glint she saw in the metallic depths. Surely not…
Then it was gone, his expression bland and his eyes hooded as he stepped back again. She must have been mistaken.
He turned and walked around the back of his car, not looking at her again until he reached the door, then he studied her over the BMW’s shiny, dustless roof. “Do you have a job?” he asked abruptly.
Riley blinked. “Part-time.”
“Forget the insurance,” he said. “I believe in people facing up to the consequences of their actions, but I’ll have this fixed and maybe we can come to some arrangement.”
Riley stiffened. “What kind of arrangement?” she asked suspiciously, wondering if she hadn’t been mistaken after all. She shouldn’t have licked her lips like that. Had he thought she was giving him a come-on?
He looked startled, then laughed as his gaze dropped disbelievingly to her baggy T-shirt and the damaged jeans before returning to her face. “Not that sort.” His tone implied that the idea was too absurd to consider.
The skin over her cheekbones burned. So she’d been wrong. He wasn’t in the least tempted by her unremarkable body, but he needn’t rub it in.
“I was thinking along the lines of time payment,” he told her.
Riley swallowed her unreasonable humiliation. “That’s very considerate. I…I am sorry about your car. I hope you’re not going to be too inconvenienced.”
“It’ll be a couple of days in the panel shop, I guess. I’ll have to find some other way of getting into the office, that’s all.”
“Where do you live?”
“Kohi,” he answered. “Why?”
Kohimarama, one of Auckland’s more expensive suburbs, was twenty minutes or so from her shared flat in Sandringham. Perhaps thirty in the rush hour. “I could take you to work and drive you home afterward while your car’s being fixed.”
He looked at her tired little car, and she said quickly, “It’s actually quite respectable when it’s cleaned up, but I suppose you’d prefer not to be driven round in this. It was a dumb idea.”
His expression said he was going to refuse again, but he paused. “What about your job?”
“I work from one till five. If you don’t need to leave your office on the dot of five then it’s not a problem. Just let me know when you want to be picked up and where.”
“All right,” he said abruptly. “I accept.”
Riley broke into another smile. “Good!”
“I just hope you’re right about being a good driver—usually. I’ll phone you.” He gave her a curt nod and climbed into his car.
Riley got into hers and waited until he’d left before backing out again, unwilling to run any risk of making another mistake in front of that man.
She didn’t even know his name. His card was in her back pocket, but she’d scarcely glanced at it when he gave it to her.
After driving home more cautiously than usual, she drew into the lopsided double garage outside an old, much-repainted-and-renovated villa.
The driver’s window closed without a hitch, and she muttered at it darkly before hauling grocery bags from the back seat, slamming the door with an elbow and then going up the worn back steps to tap on the door with her sneaker-clad toe.
Linnet Yeung opened the door to the big old-fashioned kitchen, her pretty, golden-skinned face breaking into a smile as she reached for one of the bags.
Riley smiled back. One reason she liked Lin so much was her helpful nature. Also she was the only one of Riley’s friends who was shorter than she was.
As they unpacked the groceries, Lin said, “Harry found a new girl so he won’t be eating here tonight.” She grinned and rolled her brown eyes. “He does look tasty when he’s all togged up.”
“Mmm,” Riley agreed, taking out a packet of pasta from a bag. Harry was part Samoan, part Maori and part Irish, and the rest was anybody’s guess—which made him a pure full-blooded Kiwi, he joked, New Zealand being such a racial melting pot. “Logie and Sam?” she inquired, placing the pasta on the counter.
“They wouldn’t miss dinner when it’s your turn to cook.” Lin opened the fridge to stow some butter. “How was your day?”
Riley lifted a red string bag of onions. “I pranged someone’s car at the shopping center.”
“Ooh!” Lin winced in sympathy. “Was it bad?”
“A scratch, really, but it was a BMW. The owner was quite decent about it considering I’d just bitten him.”
“You what?”
The explanation sent Lin into giggles as she folded the empty bags. “So what’s his name?”
Riley fished in her pocket for the card she’d shoved in there. “Benedict Falkner,”
