License to Thrill by Lori Wilde

studied him for a long while before replying. “The guy ended up paying me not to squeal on him to his wife and I gave the money to a women’s shelter.”
    “Pretty resourceful for a fourteen-year-old.”
    “Told you, Maybelline was determined to give me a real life education and that she did.”
    “Maybe too much of an education. You grew up way too soon.”
    “Not soon enough. If I’d really been resourceful, I would have gone to the newspapers, created a scandal, got the sucker thrown out of office before he used his power to disgrace some other poor maid.”
    Mason looked at her. He thought of his own housekeepers and of the servants who had worked for his parents. He realized with a disturbing jolt he never considered them as anything more than his employees.
    Sure, he paid well, did his best to treat them with compassion, but he’d never imagined what their lives were like when they weren’t cleaning his house or taking care of his needs. Guilt needled him and he swore to himself when he got home he would take more of a personal interest in the people he employed.
    “The Malibu’s right behind us,” Charlee said.
    Mason swore under his breath. He’d forgotten about being followed.
    “Slow down. Let them get closer.”
    “What for?”
    “Just do it and don’t give me any grief for once, okay?”
    She’d been right on the previous occasions. Resisting the urge to ask for more details before embarking on her plan, Mason slowed the car.
    “Get in the middle lane.”
    He turned on the blinker and moved over.
    “Thank you,” she replied tartly and stuck out her tongue at him.
    “You’re welcome.” He fought the strange thrill darting through him at the sight of her glorious pink tongue.
    Holy guacamole but her sauciness inflamed him.
    “Slower.” Her eyes were trained on the mirror, her body tensed, her muscles on alert.
    “I’m practically crawling as it is.”
    “I want them right on our tails so when you radically veer off at the next exit ramp they won’t have time to follow us.”
    “Oh.” He checked the rearview mirror too and saw the Malibu was on his bumper.
    “Here we go.” Charlee inhaled audibly.
    Up ahead Mason spotted the Los Angeles exit sign.
    “Keep driving, keep driving.”
    “But I thought you said…”
    “Wait, wait.”
    If he waited any longer it was going to be too late to make the exit ramp.
    “Floor it, floor it, change lanes, go, go, go.” She barked orders like a prison warden.
    Dear Lord, there were a string of cars in the inside lane.
    “Now!”
    He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t drive erratically on purpose and risk their lives. What if they had a wreck? What if they hurt someone?
    For one damn time in your life, don’t overthink things. Just friggin’ let go and do it.
    Mason stomped the foot feed. Matilda leaped to the challenge. She shot forward like a torpedo. He swerved across the white line, barreling straight for the exit ramp.
    Holy crap, we ‘re going to die.
    He braced himself for an impact and prayed Matilda could handle whatever came her way.
    Car brakes squealed. Horns blared. The smell of burning rubber spewed into the air. The brash flavor of raw adrenaline flooded his mouth as they sped pell-mell up the overpass, leaving the Malibu stuck below them on the other freeway.
    They were free.
    “Yippee!” Charlee hollered and raised a palm. “We lost them. High-five me.”
    Mason had never high-fived anyone in his privileged life, but he didn’t hesitate for a second to slap his palm against Charlee’s. His heart pounded, his gut turned upside down, but damn, he was having fun.
    Their skin contacted with a solid splat.
    And ripples of awareness blasted through his hand and up his arm.
    He met her gaze. Her eyes rounded with surprise and he knew she felt it too. This surge, this splurge, this pure spill of thrill.
    Ah, hell, this wasn’t good.
    Not good at all.

CHAPTER 7
    I ’m not falling for him,
Charlee argued with herself as she