let go. She knew his body had to fuse her temperature rising. Probing the heat pulsing his veins from her fingertips. But as their hands unglued, all he uttered hence was merely trite conversation.
"So you're the lucky lady with that awesome apartment and those amazing views of--"
Her gaze darted out to the chiseled burst of canary electrifying a gloomy niche on the opposite side of the garage. Could it be...it couldn't , she said to herself. The little hairs got all tingly thinking about it. She'd just remembered it was Sunday, and there shouldn't have been a canary Lamborghini in number twenty-three-- at least not this early --but there was.
She interjected, " Your car?" Danielle nodded a gesture at the Italian masterpiece sprawling six-figure torque --glittering like a rich man's masterfully prized plaything.
Super-tech armor illuminated vapid calm. Two pair of hexagonal windows framed the finest Bolognese leather, smoldering a drive train that redefined any man toy. Pure and simple dominant power had to be the man behind this machine.
"Yeah, that's my baby alright." Her eyes were doting as he spoke. "I was just getting ready to take her for a spin, before I heard all the raucous."
He had one of his hands tucked into a pocket of his jeans, and the other sprawled against the rim of her window. She tried desperately not to zone in on his denim jut to the point of expansion. It was driving her crazy.
"The stench of burnt rubber oozed across the entire floor. It sounded crazy. Good thing you weren't hurt, cause it was like a speedway in here." He pushed a hand through his dark hair, and blew a long breath. "Oh my god!" He shook his head. "That must have been frightening for you."
"You're sure you're okay?" he affirmed as he moved closer to her. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his soft leather jacket, creasing a concerned smile.
Refusing to acknowledge the shattering ordeal, she shrugged and then nodded, "Yes," just before she loosened her glittery pashmina and turned off the heated seat.
Danielle hadn't once thought about the peril moments earlier as his earthy redolence infused the leather cabin. She groped the steering wheel and sucked in his scent so fast that she'd almost choked on spiced cedar and lavender.
His eyes were understanding as he asked, "Y'know who that guy was?"
"I have no idea. But believe me, I'm gonna find out," she replied.
Suddenly she couldn't begin to imagine how Roman conveniently streamed into the vapid calm that laced the garage. Danielle's frantic caution was beginning to probe a vain curiosity. Was there a mystery behind the man? Were those surreptitious glances? Was he a man guarding secrets?
She'd been plagued with a lurking suspicion that it all seemed too surreal--Too convenient. But she had to be clever and maintain a mutual familiarity no matter how dangerous, to trap the target, whomever and wherever they might be.
"What are you some P.I. or something?" he asked.
"Accountant," she said loosely. "Tying up loose ends is only part of the job." She writhed her sweater knit skirt against the leather seat. "I'm used to snuffing out the trail of greedy scum all the time."
She squirmed again in the cushion straightening the pleat in her pearl white pea coat.
Danielle reached out to scoop her alligator handbag off the passenger side floor that hit the mat amidst all the terror. Her hands were still trembling when she released a sharp quiver, sending her compact mirror, lipsticks, mascara and phone to the carpet. She was still dangling the shoulder strap when she flung the purse onto the seat beside her. Sifting girly odds and ends, she ladled them one by one back into the bright fuchsia pit of her purse.
"Let me at least walk you to your apartment... can't be too careful," he gestured, offering a relieved smile.
"Thanks but--" she obliged.
"Before you say no, just let me mention that I'm a nice guy. A really nice guy." He gave a wide-eyed smile continuing, "Don't be fooled
"So you're the lucky lady with that awesome apartment and those amazing views of--"
Her gaze darted out to the chiseled burst of canary electrifying a gloomy niche on the opposite side of the garage. Could it be...it couldn't , she said to herself. The little hairs got all tingly thinking about it. She'd just remembered it was Sunday, and there shouldn't have been a canary Lamborghini in number twenty-three-- at least not this early --but there was.
She interjected, " Your car?" Danielle nodded a gesture at the Italian masterpiece sprawling six-figure torque --glittering like a rich man's masterfully prized plaything.
Super-tech armor illuminated vapid calm. Two pair of hexagonal windows framed the finest Bolognese leather, smoldering a drive train that redefined any man toy. Pure and simple dominant power had to be the man behind this machine.
"Yeah, that's my baby alright." Her eyes were doting as he spoke. "I was just getting ready to take her for a spin, before I heard all the raucous."
He had one of his hands tucked into a pocket of his jeans, and the other sprawled against the rim of her window. She tried desperately not to zone in on his denim jut to the point of expansion. It was driving her crazy.
"The stench of burnt rubber oozed across the entire floor. It sounded crazy. Good thing you weren't hurt, cause it was like a speedway in here." He pushed a hand through his dark hair, and blew a long breath. "Oh my god!" He shook his head. "That must have been frightening for you."
"You're sure you're okay?" he affirmed as he moved closer to her. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his soft leather jacket, creasing a concerned smile.
Refusing to acknowledge the shattering ordeal, she shrugged and then nodded, "Yes," just before she loosened her glittery pashmina and turned off the heated seat.
Danielle hadn't once thought about the peril moments earlier as his earthy redolence infused the leather cabin. She groped the steering wheel and sucked in his scent so fast that she'd almost choked on spiced cedar and lavender.
His eyes were understanding as he asked, "Y'know who that guy was?"
"I have no idea. But believe me, I'm gonna find out," she replied.
Suddenly she couldn't begin to imagine how Roman conveniently streamed into the vapid calm that laced the garage. Danielle's frantic caution was beginning to probe a vain curiosity. Was there a mystery behind the man? Were those surreptitious glances? Was he a man guarding secrets?
She'd been plagued with a lurking suspicion that it all seemed too surreal--Too convenient. But she had to be clever and maintain a mutual familiarity no matter how dangerous, to trap the target, whomever and wherever they might be.
"What are you some P.I. or something?" he asked.
"Accountant," she said loosely. "Tying up loose ends is only part of the job." She writhed her sweater knit skirt against the leather seat. "I'm used to snuffing out the trail of greedy scum all the time."
She squirmed again in the cushion straightening the pleat in her pearl white pea coat.
Danielle reached out to scoop her alligator handbag off the passenger side floor that hit the mat amidst all the terror. Her hands were still trembling when she released a sharp quiver, sending her compact mirror, lipsticks, mascara and phone to the carpet. She was still dangling the shoulder strap when she flung the purse onto the seat beside her. Sifting girly odds and ends, she ladled them one by one back into the bright fuchsia pit of her purse.
"Let me at least walk you to your apartment... can't be too careful," he gestured, offering a relieved smile.
"Thanks but--" she obliged.
"Before you say no, just let me mention that I'm a nice guy. A really nice guy." He gave a wide-eyed smile continuing, "Don't be fooled
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