Page 8 of Wicked Heat

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I told you I am,” I snap.

He still doesn’t move. And my irritation level climbs as he keeps standing with his hand on the door so that I can’t raise the window without coming off as a total freak. There’s something dark in his demeanor. Something that makes me shiver. It’s not fear, though. Not that tight, cloying coldness I’d felt watching the video.

Instead, it’s a quiet wariness. The worry that, despite my better judgment, I might give in and succumb to whatever he asks. After all, that’s happened before.

Or, at least, it almost happened.

I feel my cheeks heat, and I cut my eyes away to focus my hands, now clenched on the steering wheel as if it’s a life preserver.

“I was hoping we could go inside,” he says. “Talk over a couple of coffees.”

I’m tempted to do that very thing. To sit close together at a table in the back and tell him everything I just saw. To beg him to help me.

Because I know that he would do exactly that.

Instead, I hold up my cup. “I’ve already got one.”

“Then we’re halfway there. Join me inside. Or invite me into your car and we can hit the drive-through.” He flashes a little half-smile that’s sexy as hell… and makes me wish I could teleport out of there. “I figured we could commiserate. We’re both walking into the lion’s den tomorrow. It’s going to seem like old times.”

The lion he’s referring to must be Maggie Bridge, a reporter who had interviewed us both about four months ago as part of a feature on Damien Stark. As far as I’m concerned, Maggie is the spawn of Satan. “She’s doing an interview with you, too?”

He nods. “Apparently she’s fascinated with the INX-20.”

“Well, who wouldn’t be?” I force a smile, pretending I know what he’s talking about. Since this is Ash, I assume he’s referring to a race car or an engine or something else related to really fast cars. But since I need him to be gone, I don’t ask for clarification. For that matter, I don’t say anything at all.

My silence doesn’t seem to bother him in the least. He just flashes his trademark half-smile. The one that’s slow and sexy and full of temptation. “Maggie mentioned she was interviewing us back-to-back, and I figured it would be easier if we endure her questions together.”

“Together?” It takes me a moment to process, then I sit up straighter. “Wait, what? She’s interviewing us at the same time?”

His brows rise. “I thought it was one of my more brilliant ideas. Don’t tell me you were looking forward to facing Maggie alone?”

God no. But I’m also not sure I want to face you, either.

I don’t have the nerve to say that aloud. Instead, I say, “But what do the INX-whatever and fantasy romance have to do with each other?”

He grins and holds my eyes a second too long before saying, “Not a damn thing. Guess Maggie’ll have her work cut out for her.”

I manage to hold back a laugh, surprised to realize that despite whatever horrible prank some asshat is pulling on me, I’m enjoying this strange back-and-forth. “You’re an idiot, Ashton Stone. You know that, right?”

The insult doesn’t faze him at all. “Most people have an entirely different assessment.”

“Then most people are idiots, too. She’s not going to alternate questions about my book with questions about your latest automotive innovation. She’s going to talk about you personally. And she’s going to pump me to talk about Nikki and Damien and about…”

I trail off with a shudder, then shake my head. He knows about the kidnapping. And he must know I have no desire to open up to Maggie Bridge about it.

“We’ll keep her in line,” he says.

“How?”

“Trust me.”

I roll my eyes.

He chuckles. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Don’t kid yourself. There are no parameters where that woman is concerned.”