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“It’s not your fault. I was the one who wanted to stop at the coffee shop. Besides, I don’t want to inconvenience you?” She raised her eyebrows. Single guys—and she did know Will wasn’t married because of something Erin had said—usually had big plans for Friday night.
“I’ve got nothing scheduled. Not until a flag football game on Sunday.” He steered her toward the street exit. “We can take a taxi to my car. Come on.”
The cabbie dropped them at the address of the Westside garage where Will had a monthly parking spot. They found his Jeep and on their drive down the ramp, she gave him directions. He wasted no time getting on the expressway north, and she sagged against the cushy seat in relief as the lights of the city faded.
They soon had to stop, though, as cars were backed up on the bridge across Harlem River.
“I guess this sort of traffic is usual.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. Not that she expected the strands to stay there, but she hoped she looked less of a wreck than she felt. “Not that I know since I’m usually on the train.”
“It’s a Friday before a summer weekend. A lot of people leave town.” The cars in front rolled forward, and Will turned his attention once again to the road.
She stared at his long, tapered fingers gripping the wheel. He drove with quiet confidence, the only sound the soft swish of cool air coming through the dashboard’s vents. She should find this soothing. She wasn’t one to have to talk to fill the time—usually. Right now, she mostly had questions. When she met someone new, she had to have some background to find her own place in the conversation. It was probably the scientist in her, but she needed to know certain facts then she could proceed with confidence. Besides, Will intrigued her, and she wanted to know all about him.
He moved his right hand to rest on the gear shift only inches from her knee. The sensations of his palm pressed against hers during their mad dash through the streets returned. Now that she had time to think, she could acknowledge what she’d been feeling. The contact had managed to make her feel safe, though she wasn’t sure why she’d been so frightened. Except that she hated being bullied, which was what that long-haired guy had been doing.
Will had glanced over at her occasionally—and was looking at her again now. She ignored the sizzle of awareness that ran through her and tugged her seat belt tighter.
“We’ll be there in another twenty minutes or so,” he said, his deep voice almost intimate in the dark cocoon of the car.
“That’s good.” She ran her fingertips over the smooth belt webbing.
She couldn’t get the image of the guy with long black hair her out of her mind. And every time she froze up inside. He’d seemed familiar. That meant she must have seen him before. Somewhere. The fact that she couldn’t remember proved she needed to pay better attention to her surroundings everywhere, every time she left home or the lab.
“You cold?” Will reached for the controls.
“No, I’m fine.” As far as the car’s temperature was concerned, anyway.
“You’re rubbing your arms.”
“This is the temperature you like. No problem.” She clasped her hands in her lap, picking at a fingernail. Just forget that creep. Think about something else.
“You want it warmer?”
She glanced at Will. “If you don’t mind, thanks.”
Anything to distract him. She did want to know more about him, even if she couldn’t let herself be pulled into a romance. Which was going to be hard. He couldn’t be more appealing, and she was starved for the nice guy experience. She wouldn’t mind hearing about his background but she didn’t need to know.
His gaze landed on her again. “What?”
Surprise spiked through her. She tensed. “How did you know I had a question?”
“Instinct?” He smiled. “What’s the question?”
She fiddled with the restraint’s loose webbing “Call me out if I’m being nosy.”
“I have no secrets.”
Oh, yeah, like she really believed that. Everyone had some, but until she had more information on Will she wouldn’t worry about his. “So…. How long have you known Erin?”
This wasn’t the first question she wanted to ask, but the real one would be too embarrassing—at least for her.
“I started at the company a few weeks before she did. What about you?” He rubbed the top of the gear shift.
Butterflies flitted inside her stomach, and Gwen forced her gaze back to his profile, neutral territory. Mostly. “Since grade school. We kept in touch even after my parents were killed and I moved to live with my aunt and uncle. We worked together in an ice cream parlor on the shore in the summer, too.”
“Did you stock Rocky Road?”
“You’re joking, right?” She laughed. “Every self-respecting ice cream parlor stocks that flavor. Is that your favorite?”
