To Trust a Stranger (27 page)

“Are you ignoring me?”

Now she was mad at him. Mac did a mental-at least he hoped it was mental, because lf she saw such a thing he knew from experience that he was able to get bopped upside the head-eye roll. God save him from women when they were being irrational.

God save him from women, period. He tried a placating tone. “Julie ... “

“Don't you Julie me. You take me back to my shop. Right now.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and punctuated her words with a killing glare.

He strove for patience, and even tried to inject a note of humor into the situation. “You wouldn't want me to make a U-turn in the middle of the expressway, would you?”

“If that's what it takes.”

Irrational didn't begin to cover it. Mac's patience was starting to fray around the edges.

“You got a death wish, that's your problem. Fortunately for us both, I don't.”

“I want you to turn this car around right now. “ Mac discovered that his teeth were clenched. He drew in air through them as he tried once again to think the situation through. The problem was, it was difficult to think clearly when his dick was roughly the size and shape of the
Washington
Monument
. Especially when his brain seemed to be in cahoots with his dick. “Too bad,” he said, perfectly pleasantly. She stiffened like someone had just shoved a poker up her sweet little ass, and gave him the kind of glare that would have reduced a lesser mart to blubbering idiocy on the spot. “You know what?” She smiled at him. It didn't take more than the briefest of sideways glances to recognize it for the crocodile smile it was. “You don't get to make the decisions here. I do. Me, employer. You, employee.” Mac's patience snapped. “No, it's more like, me, sane. You, temporarily nuts. Until that changes, you're not getting our of my sight. So live with it.” The exit he always took to get home was next, and Mac found himself pulling over into the appropriate lane automatically. Why not? he thought, and took it. There were many public places he could drive to from there. If not the beach, which was sure to be thick with tourists about now, then the Battery .... “Don't you take that line with me, you-you man.” Julie's fists were clenched and her eyes snapped. “Is that why you think you can tell me what to do? Because you're a man? Well, I've got news for you:

So what? All that means is that your brains are zipped up inside your pants ninety percent of the time. Men make me sick. I hate men. All men. You included.” Mac had to admit, in all honesty and in light of his own situation, that there was at least a grain of truth in what she said. But in the interests of retaining what was left of his cool and keeping a lid on the situation, he didn't reply. Instead, he watched from the corner of his eye as Josephine, obviously having finished her dog biscuit, hopped up on the console from the backs eat. Long strips of what looked like noodles hung from her mouth. White plastic noodles ... Mac's jaw dropped. “She ate my sign!” “Red light!” Julie yelled. Glancing around, Mac saw that she was right and stood on the brake. The Blazer stopped with a lurch and a squeal of tires. Mac took a deep breath, looking at the rush of traffic charging past. During the day, this was one of the busiest intersections in Charles ton-he knew, because his house and the office of McQuarry and Hinkle were approximately three blocks to the north and he had to fight through this mess every day-and, if it hadn't been for Julie, he would have plunged right into the middle of it. The consequences wouldn't have been good. Damn dog, he thought, giving Josephine an evil look. If he'd been into crediting animals with humanlike emotions, he would have sworn she smiled at him, plastic noodles and all. Then his attention was abruptly, forcibly refocused. There, at the corner of a four-way intersection refereed by a posse of traffic lights, with cars lined up impatiently on two sides and rushing bumper to bumper across the middle in an impenetrable line, Julie simply opened the door and got out. For a moment Mac couldn't believe it. One second she was making outraged noises in the seat beside him, and the next she was out the door, slamming it behind her so hard the car shook, then stalking with her back ramrod straight and her head held high between two idling cars as she headed toward the sidewalk. “May God damn all female creatures to hell for all eternity,” Mac said bitterly to Josephine, who didn't seem impressed. Then he shoved the car into park and got out. Feeling like the biggest fool alive, furious enough to twist nails into pretzels with his bare hands if he'd been handed any, Mac went after her. When he caught up to her, after making an end run around throngs of tourists and shoppers and what seemed to be a whole bus full of kids on a field trip, most of whom were armed with drippy ice cream bars, she was still marching along at a pretty good clip. “Just hold it right there,” he said through his teeth, grabbing her arm. She stopped dead, and whirled to face him. Her whole body was quivering with temper. Her head was high. Her eyes were enormous and shooting sparks. And tears were tracing bright paths down her cheeks. “Fuck,” Mac said, and meant it. “Fuck you, “ she snapped, trying without success to pull her arm from his grasp. She then ruined the whole touch-me-and-die thing she had going on by sniffling. He stared down at her, feeling as if he had just taken a punch to the stomach. She looked furious and pathetic and so gorgeous that she stole his breath, all at the same time. When he didn't say anything more, her eyes flashed dangerously, and she opened her mouth to yell at him-he could tell that was what she had in mind, her eyes telegraphed her intention and she was still bristling with rage-so he did the only thing any sane man faced with such circumstances could do. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. And even as he did it realized that he had just done a swan dive out of the frying pan straight into the sizzling heart of the fire.

20

THE SOUND OF BLARING HORNS penetrated Julie's consciousness slowly. Before she had quite registered exactly what she was hearing, Mac lifted his head and seemed much struck by the cacophonous sounds. “Fuck,” he said again, glancing around, then focused on her. Those beautiful blue eyes narrowed with some emotion she couldn't quite put a name to as they ran over her face. His mouth compressed into a thin hard line. She was in his arms, her body plastered to his, her hands locked behind his neck, her face tilted toward his, blinking up at him with some bemusement. The cause of her tears-indeed, the tears themselves-was forgotten for the moment. The sun reflected blindingly off the shop windows and the roofs of cars cruising past, the smell of exhaust hung heavy in the muggy air, and Mac felt hard and strong and absolutely right against her. Julie realized that once again she was just exactly where she wanted to be. Except, of course, for the blaring horns. Mac had to raise his voice to be heard over them.

“Look, I apologize, okay? Anything I said to upset you, I take it back.” But, she thought, frowning, he didn't sound too happy about it.

“Now, could we please get back in the car before the police show up?” Comprehension caused Julie's eyes to widen. The honking, the shouts-Mac had abandoned the Blazer in the middle of the street. Before she had time to say anything, or even to fully surface from that soul-shaking kiss, he stepped back from the embrace, locked a hand around her wrist and strode back toward the car with her in tow, apparently taking her assent for granted. Julie sniffed and wiped what was left of the moisture from her cheeks as she practically ran in her high-heeled sandals in his wake, not sure how she felt about being treated so cavalierly. The only thing she was sure of was, she wasn't ready to walk away from Mac again just yet. This was getting interesting.

“Lady, do you need any help?” A paunchy man in a business suit turned to watch as she was hustled past. Julie realized that she and Mac were the cynosure of all eyes. Even preteens with their faces full of ice cream were staring with interest.

“I'm fine, thanks,” she called back with a wave. Mac threw her an assessing glance over his shoulder as he pulled her after him into the street. The deafening honking had died down some. Julie realized that traffic on their side of the light was stopped again, and that at least one and possibly more traffic cycles had passed since she had gotten out of the Blazer. Cars were out of alignment in both lanes as those vehicles behind the Blazer that had tried to maneuver around it had been frozen in awkward place by the changing of the light. Everybody inside every car that Julie could see looked mad as hornets. She waved at them feebly. More horns blared. For his part, Mac ignored them all, heading straight toward the marooned Blazer. Just as he reached it, a woman popped up on the driver's side. Obviously a tourist, in a neon-green floral blouse and a big straw hat, she waggled a finger at Mac across the hood. “Don't you know better than to leave a dog in a car?” she said in a scolding tone. “Especially on a hot day like this?” Mac groaned, jerked open Julie's door, thrust her inside, and said something like give me a break to the woman as he shut the door again. Julie, tenderly wiping the remnants of Mac's sign from
 
Josephine's mouth as the poodle settled down in her lap, missed the rest of the conversation, but Mac looked thoroughly teed off as he slid behind the wheel.

The woman, mouth still working, bent down to look in Mac's window. He ignored her, except to shoot her a scowl as she tapped imperatively on it. The light changed. The Blazer moved into the intersection, where they took a left. As quick as that they were anonymous again, for which Julie was thankful.

“So, you want to tell me why you were crying?”

Julie's chin lifted defiantly. That she had succumbed to tears embarrassed her-but she hadn't expected him to see them, and, hey, she was having a really bad day.

“It's my divorce. I can cry if I want to.”

“Good point.”

“If we're playing twenty questions, why did you kiss me?”

“Because I’m as nuts as you are.”

Julie bristled anew. “I am not nuts. “

Mac opened his mouth as if to reply, seemed to think better of what he'd been going to say, and shot her an exasperated look.

“Do me a favor: Just sit there and don't say or do anything until we get out of the car, okay?”

“Fine.” Julie settled back in the seat, not too unhappily, content to wait on events. That searing kiss had said volumes, even if he was inexplicably grumpy now.

The Blazer turned down a residential street, then another. The houses in this neighbourhood were nothing like her own, Julie thought. These houses were older, small, with neat green postage-stamp yards punctuated by the occasional palmetto. Julie realized that this particular street was familiar just as Mac pulled to the curb and stopped.

She glanced around and began to smile. The last time she'd been here it had been the middle of the night, but she didn't think she was mistaken: Mac had brought her to his house.

Life was looking up.

Josephine apparently realized where she was, too, because she stood up in Julie's lap and yapped excitedly. Mac eyed the two of them with disfavor as he pulled the key from the ignition. When he opened his door, Josephine scrambled across his lap and hopped out.

“She doesn't have a collar on,” Julie said, alarmed, grabbing for the dog and missing.

“Josephine has her faults, God knows she does, but she's not totally stupid. She knows enough not to go running off on her own.”

There was so much not-so-hidden meaning in his tone that Julie stiffened. But he slid out of the car before she could reply. She opened her door and got out too, forestalling him in the act of coming around to fetch her.

“Was that some sort of dig at me?” Her tone was almost too polite as she walked around the hood of the Blazer toward him. He stopped where he was, on the curb, waiting, arms crossed over his chest,
Oakleys
once again in place. She couldn't see his eyes, but his stance and general attitude made it clear enough: he might have succumbed enough to bring her to his house, but he wasn't happy about it.

“You realize you just about caused a riot back there?” His usually drawling voice was clipped.

Julie stopped walking and glared at him, her fists on her hips. “Me? You're the one who abandoned the car in the middle of the street.”

“Because you were childish enough to get out and take off. What did you think I was going to do', just drive away and let you go stomping off to God knows where all by yourself?”

“Believe it or not, I think I just about have sense enough to call a cab to take me where I want to go, which at the time was back to my shop.”

“I don't believe it.” Mac muttered this half under his breath, but Julie heard. She was just opening her mouth to verbally flatten him when a woman's voice called out.

“Mac! Mac! Have you seen Gus?”

'Mac swung around in the direction of the voice. Shading her eyes, Julie discovered a wizened little woman in a faded floral housedress waving at them from a concrete stoop two houses down.

“No, I haven't,
Miz
Leiferman,” Mac called back politely.

“Can you believe that man? I send him to take out the trash and he disappears. What do you bet he snuck around the block to have a smoke?”

“I wouldn't be a bit surprised.” Mac cast a quick glance at Julie.

Lips compressing, he caught her hand and started walking toward the house, pulling her behind him. “You take care,
Miz
Leiferman.”