sharp snap.
“That was not necessary,” she said stiffly.
Rafe’s mouth curved slightly at one corner. “You’re welcome.”
The long black car rolled to a halt in front of the valet stand. The attendant opened the door of the passenger compartment.
Ella discreetly hitched up the hem of her skirt and slipped into the car. She scooted hastily across the leather seat, making room for Rafe. He eased in beside her.
The valet closed the door and rapped on the driver’s window a couple of times to let him know the passengers were safely on board.
The driver spoke from the front seat. “Good evening, Miss Morgan. I’m Briggs. Sorry about the change of cars. Your regular driver reported in sick. I’m the replacement. We’re going to 321 North Wall Lane, right?”
“Eventually,” she said. “But first we’re going to drop Mr. Coppersmith at his hotel. The Colonial Inn on Quartz Drive.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand. I’ll give you both some privacy.”
There was a soft hum as the glass shield that separated the driver and passenger compartments slid into place. Ella was once again enfolded in the sensual intimacy ofblack leather and low lighting with Rafe. She tried to focus on the fog swirling in the neon-and-psi-lit streets.
“When, exactly, are we leaving in the morning?” she asked.
“As early as possible, but since we’ll be on a Coppersmith jet we don’t have a precise timetable,” Rafe said. “Six o’clock work for you? I’ll instruct the pilots to pick up some takeout for breakfast on the plane.”
She winced. “Okay. Six o’clock.” She still had some packing to do. Might as well not even bother to go to bed, she thought.
Rafe seemed satisfied. “That should put us into Thursday Harbor by midafternoon. Time enough to get to Rainshadow before dark.”
“I apologize for that little scene with Dr. Suarez,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry she assumed you were my date for the evening.”
“So what if she leaped to the wrong conclusion about us?” Rafe turned slightly and settled deeper into the corner. He rested one arm along the back of the seat and watched her with unreadable eyes. “No big deal. You set her straight. I’m just a client.”
She could not decide if he sounded irritated, bored, or simply unconcerned about Dr. Suarez’s assumption.
“Right,” she said briskly. “I will admit I took some pleasure showing off my new high-end client to Wilson. But, then, I’m probably shallow that way.”
Rafe surprised her with a grin. “Where I come from that kind of thing is called good business. Never let the competition think it’s got the upper hand.”
“Good to know.” She frowned. “The question is, how many other people in that room assumed you were my date for the evening?”
“My advice is, don’t worry about it.”
“Easy for you to say, but this is my business reputation we’re talking about. There’s a fine line between being seen at a public function with a prestigious client and having everyone think I’m—”
She broke off sharply, horrified at what she had been about to say.
Rafe finished the sentence for her. “Having everyone think you’re sleeping with your client. I get that.”
She tightened her grip on her little purse, grateful for the deep shadows. She was sure she was turning bright red. “Mmm.”
“Don’t worry so much. We’re leaving town tomorrow. By the time you return everyone will be talking about something else.”
“I hope you’re right.”
There was a long pause from Rafe’s side of the car.
“Would it be so bad?” he asked eventually.
She glanced at him. There was a little heat in his eyes. For a moment she went quite blank.
“What?” she said.
“Would it be so bad if a few people leaped to the conclusion that you and I have something more than a client-consultant relationship?”
Anger crackled through her. “Well, of course it would be bad.”
She adjusted the wrap around her shoulders and
“That was not necessary,” she said stiffly.
Rafe’s mouth curved slightly at one corner. “You’re welcome.”
The long black car rolled to a halt in front of the valet stand. The attendant opened the door of the passenger compartment.
Ella discreetly hitched up the hem of her skirt and slipped into the car. She scooted hastily across the leather seat, making room for Rafe. He eased in beside her.
The valet closed the door and rapped on the driver’s window a couple of times to let him know the passengers were safely on board.
The driver spoke from the front seat. “Good evening, Miss Morgan. I’m Briggs. Sorry about the change of cars. Your regular driver reported in sick. I’m the replacement. We’re going to 321 North Wall Lane, right?”
“Eventually,” she said. “But first we’re going to drop Mr. Coppersmith at his hotel. The Colonial Inn on Quartz Drive.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand. I’ll give you both some privacy.”
There was a soft hum as the glass shield that separated the driver and passenger compartments slid into place. Ella was once again enfolded in the sensual intimacy ofblack leather and low lighting with Rafe. She tried to focus on the fog swirling in the neon-and-psi-lit streets.
“When, exactly, are we leaving in the morning?” she asked.
“As early as possible, but since we’ll be on a Coppersmith jet we don’t have a precise timetable,” Rafe said. “Six o’clock work for you? I’ll instruct the pilots to pick up some takeout for breakfast on the plane.”
She winced. “Okay. Six o’clock.” She still had some packing to do. Might as well not even bother to go to bed, she thought.
Rafe seemed satisfied. “That should put us into Thursday Harbor by midafternoon. Time enough to get to Rainshadow before dark.”
“I apologize for that little scene with Dr. Suarez,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry she assumed you were my date for the evening.”
“So what if she leaped to the wrong conclusion about us?” Rafe turned slightly and settled deeper into the corner. He rested one arm along the back of the seat and watched her with unreadable eyes. “No big deal. You set her straight. I’m just a client.”
She could not decide if he sounded irritated, bored, or simply unconcerned about Dr. Suarez’s assumption.
“Right,” she said briskly. “I will admit I took some pleasure showing off my new high-end client to Wilson. But, then, I’m probably shallow that way.”
Rafe surprised her with a grin. “Where I come from that kind of thing is called good business. Never let the competition think it’s got the upper hand.”
“Good to know.” She frowned. “The question is, how many other people in that room assumed you were my date for the evening?”
“My advice is, don’t worry about it.”
“Easy for you to say, but this is my business reputation we’re talking about. There’s a fine line between being seen at a public function with a prestigious client and having everyone think I’m—”
She broke off sharply, horrified at what she had been about to say.
Rafe finished the sentence for her. “Having everyone think you’re sleeping with your client. I get that.”
She tightened her grip on her little purse, grateful for the deep shadows. She was sure she was turning bright red. “Mmm.”
“Don’t worry so much. We’re leaving town tomorrow. By the time you return everyone will be talking about something else.”
“I hope you’re right.”
There was a long pause from Rafe’s side of the car.
“Would it be so bad?” he asked eventually.
She glanced at him. There was a little heat in his eyes. For a moment she went quite blank.
“What?” she said.
“Would it be so bad if a few people leaped to the conclusion that you and I have something more than a client-consultant relationship?”
Anger crackled through her. “Well, of course it would be bad.”
She adjusted the wrap around her shoulders and
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