Page 31 of Open Season

“I said we’d go for a ride. That means riding.”

Now she was back to the awful suspicion that he might be courting her, though if he was, he went about it in a strange way, telling her she reminded him of his great-aunt and laughing at her. On the other hand, he was a Yankee; maybe that was the way they did it up North. “I’d rather ride in the other direction,” she said uneasily. “Back toward home.”

“Tough.”

Well, that definitely wasn’t very courteous, so he couldn’t be courting her. Vastly relieved, she beamed at him.

“What?” he demanded, giving her a wary look.

“Oh, nothing.”

“You’re smiling at me. It’s damn scary.”

“My smile is scary?” The beam dimmed.

“No, the fact that you’re smiling is scary. That tells me your train of thought has gone off track again.”

“It has not. I know exactly which track it’s on. I’m just relieved that you don’t.” Darn, she wished she hadn’t told him that. She had to remember that he was a cop, and cops were notoriously nosy.

“Oh?” Just as she had feared, now he was interested.

“Private stuff,” she informed him. A gentleman would leave it at that.

She should have remembered that he wasn’t a gentleman. “What kind of private stuff?” he demanded. “Sexy stuff?”

“No!” she said, horrified. And because having him think she might want to do that was worse than what she really had been thinking, she said, “I was just afraid you might be courting me, and when you told me ‘tough,’ I was relieved, because you wouldn’t have said that if you had been. Courting me, that is.”

“Courting?” His shoulders started shaking a little.

“Yes, well, whatever it’s called these days. ‘Dating’ seems a little too high-schoolish, and besides, this isn’t a date. It’s more like a kidnaping.”

“You haven’t been kidnaped. I just wanted to talk to you, privately, about last night.”

“What about last night? If I haven’t broken any laws—”

“Would you stop yammering about that? I have some things to tell you about going to nightclubs.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an adult and can go to any nightclub I want. What’s more, I’m going to, so you can—”

“Would you shut up for a minute!” he yelled. “I’m not telling you not to go; I’m just trying to tell you some things to watch out for!”

She sat silently for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “You just make me feel defensive. Maybe it’s because you’re the chief of police.”

“Well, stop it, and listen to me. With what you’ve done to your hair and the way you’re dressing, men are going to come on to you.”

“Yes,” she said with satisfaction. “They did.”

He sighed. “Did you know any of them?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you can’t trust them.”

“Well, I wasn’t about to go home with any of them or anything, and I had my own car, so no one could drive me home—”

He interrupted. “Have you ever heard of date-rape drugs?”

That silenced her. Shocked, she stared at him. “You mean . . . those men—”

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