room's dim light, Anton answered. "I don't think I can do that.
But I would love to buy dinner for you."
Exhaling at last, Lauren grinned. She knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or to trample a male ego. "Great. I'd say I'd get my things —" she shrugged and held up her backpack "— but this is it."
"Vietnamese okay?"
"Perfect. I'm famished."
They headed for the elevator. Lauren stepped inside. Anton cut off the loft's lighting, pulled the grate closed and locked it up tight, then yanked down the overhead door, leaving them with only a single bare bulb by which to see.
The freight car was a box of moving shadows. Lauren watched every one play with Anton's face until nerves launched from her belly on butterfly wings. She wondered what he'd do if she took that one long step toward him and —
The elevator jolted, jerked. A bloodcurdling screech of metal on metal. The bare bulb swung from its wire mooring. Lauren grabbed onto the side railing to keep herself from tumbling to the floor. The car shuddered, groaned, stopped. She held her breath for a few more interminable seconds before giving a little laugh. "This is a joke, right?"
"If it is, it's on both of us." Anton spent several minutes messing with the elevator's control panel. Then he pulled out his cell phone and swore up and down at the weak signal. Lauren swore harder when she realized she'd left her phone in the car after calling Macy on the way to the loft.
He did manage to get through to his office, where he left his partner a voicemail.
"Doug's a fanatic about checking messages. Unless you want me to try 911?"
She did. She didn't. "What do you think?"
Anton glanced at his watch. "Give him an hour first?"
"Okay." It made sense. This wasn't a life-threatening situation. Though her heartbeat seemed to know it could be a life -changing one. "Then, I guess, we wait?"
"We wait."
Chapter Four
Anton Neville watched Lauren Hollister slide down the elevator wa ll until her butt hit the floor. She was wearing a pair of overalls. Micro-mini overalls, if there were such a thing. Which there had to be because he was looking at the evidence.
Damn but her legs were long.
"You know, you'll never sell this place if you don't get this thing fixed," she said.
He moved his gaze to her face. Her eyes were resigned to the wait. Resigned, but definitely not defeated. He liked seeing that spunk. "Does that mean you're backing out of the deal?"
Lauren scrunched up her nose, stuck out her tongue, and sighed. Then she sighed again and settled in for the duration, tucking her backpack up under the bend of her knees.
Damn but her legs were long.
With nowhere to pace, Anton figured he might as well take a load off, as well. He sank to the floor, stretched out his legs, and leaned back on the wall opposite the one against which Lauren had collapsed. Their feet met in the middle and she tapped his sole.
"You're going to ruin your pants."
He kept his foot pressed to the bottom of hers. "I know a good dry cleaner."
"You'd do better knowing a good tailor."
"I know one of those, too."
"At least you don't know a good girlfriend. I would be in so much trouble if you did."
"Why? This wasn't exactly a calculated move to get us alone." He knew it wasn't. She knew it wasn't. But she sure had a guilty look on her face.
"This is breaking every rule ever written. A girl does not strand herself with another girl's man." She punctuated that last statement by banging her head on the wall at her back.
And then Anton realized he didn't know for sure whether or not he was getting close to trespassing himself. "What about you? Am I going to need to be watching my back when we get out of here?"
She shook her head. "Macy's aim's not that good."
"Macy?" Uh-uh. No way he had called that one wrong!
"Never mind. No. I'm not seeing anyone right now." She dropped her head back in one last thump.
Then she smiled to herself, a private inside joke that had her shaking her head and
But I would love to buy dinner for you."
Exhaling at last, Lauren grinned. She knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or to trample a male ego. "Great. I'd say I'd get my things —" she shrugged and held up her backpack "— but this is it."
"Vietnamese okay?"
"Perfect. I'm famished."
They headed for the elevator. Lauren stepped inside. Anton cut off the loft's lighting, pulled the grate closed and locked it up tight, then yanked down the overhead door, leaving them with only a single bare bulb by which to see.
The freight car was a box of moving shadows. Lauren watched every one play with Anton's face until nerves launched from her belly on butterfly wings. She wondered what he'd do if she took that one long step toward him and —
The elevator jolted, jerked. A bloodcurdling screech of metal on metal. The bare bulb swung from its wire mooring. Lauren grabbed onto the side railing to keep herself from tumbling to the floor. The car shuddered, groaned, stopped. She held her breath for a few more interminable seconds before giving a little laugh. "This is a joke, right?"
"If it is, it's on both of us." Anton spent several minutes messing with the elevator's control panel. Then he pulled out his cell phone and swore up and down at the weak signal. Lauren swore harder when she realized she'd left her phone in the car after calling Macy on the way to the loft.
He did manage to get through to his office, where he left his partner a voicemail.
"Doug's a fanatic about checking messages. Unless you want me to try 911?"
She did. She didn't. "What do you think?"
Anton glanced at his watch. "Give him an hour first?"
"Okay." It made sense. This wasn't a life-threatening situation. Though her heartbeat seemed to know it could be a life -changing one. "Then, I guess, we wait?"
"We wait."
Chapter Four
Anton Neville watched Lauren Hollister slide down the elevator wa ll until her butt hit the floor. She was wearing a pair of overalls. Micro-mini overalls, if there were such a thing. Which there had to be because he was looking at the evidence.
Damn but her legs were long.
"You know, you'll never sell this place if you don't get this thing fixed," she said.
He moved his gaze to her face. Her eyes were resigned to the wait. Resigned, but definitely not defeated. He liked seeing that spunk. "Does that mean you're backing out of the deal?"
Lauren scrunched up her nose, stuck out her tongue, and sighed. Then she sighed again and settled in for the duration, tucking her backpack up under the bend of her knees.
Damn but her legs were long.
With nowhere to pace, Anton figured he might as well take a load off, as well. He sank to the floor, stretched out his legs, and leaned back on the wall opposite the one against which Lauren had collapsed. Their feet met in the middle and she tapped his sole.
"You're going to ruin your pants."
He kept his foot pressed to the bottom of hers. "I know a good dry cleaner."
"You'd do better knowing a good tailor."
"I know one of those, too."
"At least you don't know a good girlfriend. I would be in so much trouble if you did."
"Why? This wasn't exactly a calculated move to get us alone." He knew it wasn't. She knew it wasn't. But she sure had a guilty look on her face.
"This is breaking every rule ever written. A girl does not strand herself with another girl's man." She punctuated that last statement by banging her head on the wall at her back.
And then Anton realized he didn't know for sure whether or not he was getting close to trespassing himself. "What about you? Am I going to need to be watching my back when we get out of here?"
She shook her head. "Macy's aim's not that good."
"Macy?" Uh-uh. No way he had called that one wrong!
"Never mind. No. I'm not seeing anyone right now." She dropped her head back in one last thump.
Then she smiled to herself, a private inside joke that had her shaking her head and
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