Page 401 of Summer Heat
“I am.” He put his arm around her and tugged her over to the driveway.
To his beautiful powder black car.
With the bench seats she loved so much.
She smiled up at him. “Is your Lexus in the shop?”
He grinned back. “Nope. I told you, I’m going to prove to you that we can do this. You and I can be together and be ourselves out there in the big bad world.”
“So you’re going to a fancy establishment where you’ll likely run into clients and colleagues?” With me. “In an old muscle car. Just to prove a point?”
“Abby, I’d pull up riding on the handlebars of Skylar’s pink bicycle...hell, I’d drive up in your car to prove this particular point.”
She burst out laughing.
“You don’t believe me?” He reached for her purse. “Hand over the keys.”
“No!” She giggled and ran the rest of the way to his car. “We can’t go to a five-star restaurant in my car!”
Connor pinned her against the passenger door, capturing her lips in a deep, soul-searing kiss.
It wasn’t until about five seconds after the kiss ended that she realized he’d gone and pickpocketed her purse.
A half hour later, Abby was still whacking him on the arm.
“That valet kid thought we were punking him.” Another whack. “I swear, he kept looking around like a bunch of TV cameras were going to come rushing out.”
“I know.” He chuckled. “Did you see his expression when I slipped him a twenty and told him to make sure to park it somewhere safe?”
“Stop.” Whack. “Making fun of.” Whack. “My car!”
“Yes, this is far less embarrassing. Quick, sucker punch me in the gut. I think I see a lawyer from a competing law firm I’m facing in court on Monday.”
She instantly dropped her hands back to her sides. “This isn’t over,” she hissed.
“Oh, I know. And I’m counting the minutes till we get home to see just what you’ll do next.”
Home.
She had no idea whose home he was referring to, but at least they’d be there together.
As the maître de led them to a corner table with a stunning view of the city, Abby couldn’t help but sigh with pleasure. Not because they were in the most elegant restaurant she could ever imagine.
But because she was starting to believe.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For proving your point.”
Connor smiled back. “I think I’d much prefer a ‘you were right.’”
She flicked open her menu. “I’ll keep that in mind if one day you ever are.”
His soft, tickled laughter died a quick death when a slick as silk voice rang out from the next table over.
“Why look Lynn, it’s Connor.”
They both turned to watch a tall, distinguished looking man stand up and come over with his ‘date’—Abby would’ve guessed daughter at first but seeing his hand on the woman/girl’s ass quickly dispelled that theory.
“Connor, did you get that paperwork I left on your desk today?”
