Who's on Top? by Karen Kendall

together and zipped up her pants in record time.
    To the casual observer they were two people just making out by a parked car. But the contractors recognized them from inside.
    â€œAin’t you two got a room yet?” shouted one.
    The other one laughed and made a rude gesture: thumb and forefinger of one hand forming a circle while he poked the index finger of his other hand through it repeatedly.
    Dominic ignored them. If he took one step away from Jane, he’d expose her state of disarray.
    Finally they got into their trucks and roared away.
    Jane’s face burned as if someone had held every inch of it to an industrial sander.
    Dominic raked a hand through his hair and released a tense breath. He opened the door for her, andshe slid into the luxury of the Jaguar’s buttery leather seats, beginning immediately to fasten her bra and button her shirt.
    Still in a state of confusion, she didn’t question the idiosyncrasy of a man who drove an expensive British import but frequented seedy, mangy bars like the Three-Legged Dog.
    Dominic got into the car himself, started the engine and began to drive, still sporting quite a stiffie.
    Jane sat in heated, embarrassed silence until she noticed that they weren’t heading back to her car. “Uh, Sayers? Zantyne’s in the complete opposite direction.”
    â€œI’m taking you to dinner.”
    Jane absorbed this. “It’s customary to ask a woman if you can take her to dinner before actually doing so. She might object.”
    â€œAre you objecting?”
    Of course her stomach chose that precise moment to emit a growl that was half lawn mower, half jungle beast. “Um, not exactly.”
    â€œWell, then, that’s settled.”
    â€œHas anyone ever told you that you’re a bit high-handed?”
    â€œDarlin’, better high-handed than underhanded. Don’t you agree?”
    â€œThat’s not the point,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t agree to a…a…date.”
    He stopped for a traffic light, turned toward her and smiled. “And yet you’re such a hot one.”
    â€œWhoa,” Jane said. Dom thinks I’m hot. But shesaid, “I think we just, um, got carried away out there. You really shouldn’t talk to me like that.”
    â€œMmm? Well, I don’t think you should kiss me or touch me like that if you don’t want me to talk to you like that.”
    Her cheeks caught fire for—what?—the tenth time that night? But she wasn’t giving up. “I didn’t actually kiss you. You kissed me.”
    â€œYeah,” he said in a dry voice. “And I noticed that you kicked and screamed and broke a chair over my head.”
    â€œIf you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t point that out.”
    Dom sighed and shook his head. “You know, we’ve had this ‘gentleman’ conversation.”
    Ooooooh! “You know what? I don’t want to have dinner with you.”
    â€œDo, too.”
    â€œDo not!”
    Dominic, blast him, began to laugh. Then he called her “chicken.”
    Jane pointed out, with any dignity that she could still scrape together, that she was not a chicken.
    â€œI know,” he said. “Because you’re coming to dinner with me. You’re not going to run away from what you felt out there.”
    Jane folded her arms across her chest. “I didn’t feel a thing, Sayers!”
    â€œLiar,” he said in agreeable tones.
    She made a strangled noise.
    â€œWant me to prove it? Pucker up, sweet Jane!” The car swerved dangerously as he leaned toward her.
    â€œNo! Drive. Just—drive, you lunatic.”
    â€œThat’s better. Now, no more fibbing or I’ll leave you at Max’s Downtown to wash the dishes after our meal.”
    Beyond words, Jane simply clenched her fists and stared out the window. Max’s? Dom was taking her from the Three-Legged Dog to a four-star restaurant. The