Page 30 of Sack

“I thought you were concerned. You’ve upgraded to worry?”

“Concern and worry mean the same thing.”

A few lines puckered his brow. “Worry is stronger than concern.”

Ivy pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking it up.”

“Now?” He sounded incredulous. She had that effect on a lot of people.

“Yes. I want to make sure I’m right.”

“If I admit you’re right, can we get back to the topic at hand?”

“No.” She heard him sigh but ignored it. She had that effect on people, too. “Just as I thought. The definition for concern is, worried, troubled, or anxious. And worried means anxious or troubled about actual or potential problems.”

“So, by that definition, concern is broad and worry is more specific, hence making worry stronger.”

Ivy scrolled down to the words’ origins and read that worry came from the Old English wordwyrganwhich meant strangle and concern stemmed from the French, meaning to be relevant to. Poodoo, Colt was right. Hating to be wrong, she quickly got back on point and hoped he didn’t notice she dropped the subject.

“We’ll agree to disagree. As I was saying before—”

“Wait. You’re giving up?” He leaned in her direction, trying to peek at her phone while still keeping an eye on the road. “What did you find?”

Damn. “Nothing. I just think this is an argument that neither of us will win.”

He grew silent and she could see the debate that warred in his head. Stick with it and maybe win the argument, or let it go. She internally sighed when he did the latter.

“Fine. Now tell me what has you worried.”

“I’m worried, with your vast experience, you’re going to find me lacking or not as exciting as your other partners.”

“Just how experienced do you think I am?”

She chewed on her bottom lip. He sounded offended. Oops. “Well, you are a hot-shot celebrity. Don’t they get a lot of action?”

He conceded her point with a head dip. “I suppose some do. But I’m not one of them.”

“Areyoua virgin?”

“Fuck no.” He took his eyes off the road long enough to throw her an annoyed glance.

Oops, again.

“I’m just saying, I don’t bed a different woman every night or week or hell, month even.”

“Oh.” She hoped she didn’t sound too disappointed. “Remember I said I read a lot? Well, I’ve read a fair share of romances and in them, the hot-shot celebrity always knows a lot ofstuff.” She glanced over to find his eyes still on the road, before saying, “You know,eroticstuff.” She did get his eyes then, andthey were heated.She quickly added, “I know books are fiction, but I was wondering, well, hoping really, if I’m honest, that there might be some tricks you can teach me?”

His grip on the steering wheel grew so tight, his knuckles turned white, and his jaw tensed until the veins in his neck bulged. And was the car going faster? She glanced at the speedometer. “Have I made you angry?”

“No.”

“I hate to point it out at a time like this, but you seem angry.”

“Not angry, in pain.” He didn’t take his eyes from the road.

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