5
All right, maybe he shouldn’t have pushed it quite that hard. But he’d looked down into her face, seen the way she gazed at him, her lips slightly parted. In every other woman he’d ever been with, that sort of expression was a clear invitation to intimacy.
The problem was, Margot wasn’t like any other woman he’d been with.
He drove home, going too fast, knowing that if he were anyone else, going fifteen miles an hour over the speed limit at nine o’clock at night on twisty 89A as it wove through Oak Creek Canyon would be an open invitation for a speeding ticket. Especially in a bright red Porsche.
But he’d never gotten a speeding ticket in his life. Or a parking ticket. Never been audited by the IRS, never broken a bone or chipped a tooth or even gotten a bad meal. Of course not. Thos
