Page 8 of Blood Stone
So Kate let the thrill of pleasurable anticipation fizz through her body, and picked up her fork. “Okay, lunch,” she agreed. “Chit chat and gossip. I’ll tell you about the SAG gala and which actress got the most drunk, and you can tell me about the silliest hat you saw on Fifth Avenue. Do you need a ride somewhere after?”
“Hollywood Markets, if you’re going that way. My fridge is empty,” Adrian replied.
She considered her next appointment, in Van Iuys. “Works for me,” she lied, and took her first bite, her hunger now a ravening.
* * * * *
Adrian returned to his distant, charming and undemanding self for the rest of the meal, letting Kate relax and enjoy his company, and her body to tingle and zap as she entertained the future possibilities between them.
Their eyes would meet and Kate would see the knowledge in his, too, and that further spiced the lunch date.
By the time she slid from the buffet and fished her car keys from her satchel, as Adrian strode ahead to pay the bill, Kate felt almost drunk with a subterranean arousal more potent than anything sweet Greg Evershot had managed last night. Kate stared at Adrian’s powerful denim-clad thighs as he stood at the maître’d’s counter signing the chit, and the flex of his thick bicep as he wrote, and could so easily imagine him naked.
She could feel her cheeks heating as she moved toward the counter. Adrian turned and dropped his coat over his forearm and dug heavy sunglasses out of the pocket, watching her approach with a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
“You’re a stunning lady,” he said, when she reached him.
Her cheeks bloomed even harder. “Thank you.” She barely managed to say it without tripping over the two little words.
“You’re a better director, though,” he added.
This time her smile was not forced at all. “You just made my day,” she said truthfully. “This way, I parked in the underground garage here.”
They used the escalator in the lobby to slide down into the cool, dim and echoing roots of the building.
“Main level?” Adrian asked.
“One more down,” Kate said. “Stairs are over there.” She pointed to the concrete stair block across from the elevators. They waited for a black Mercedes to pass, then crossed over and climbed down to the next level. She looked for her Audi, and spotted it as another car started to rumble its way up from the next lower level.
“That one,” she said, tripping the lock so the lights would flash for Adrian’s benefit.
He nodded and headed toward the car, with Kate about two paces behind him. The car moving up from the next lower level turned the big U-bend then, and its day time running lights caught them in the middle of the traffic lane. It came to a sudden halt, and the back door opened.
“Kate!”
She whirled, throwing up her hand against the lights, and pushing her satchel behind her back with her right hand. She walked a few more paces to the right to clear the lights, which put her right next to Adrian.
“It’s Calum Garrett,” the voice said.
“Goddam it,” Kate breathed softly. She felt, rather than saw, Adrian’s glance down at her.
The back door of the luxury limo closed and Garrett came forward. “It can’t be a coincidence running into you again like this.”
“Run into, or run over?” Adrian asked.
Garrett looked at him. “I was talking to Kate.”
“And she clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”
The other door of the limo opened, and a seven foot, very thin man in his fifties with blond hair got out, carrying a briefcase. He seemed to be all arms and legs, the pinstripe suit merely exaggerating the length of everything.
“Your enforcer?” Adrian asked, with a grin.
“My lawyer,” Garrett replied. He looked at Kate. “Is there any way—”
“No,” she said flatly.
Garrett glanced at Adrian, then studied her for a moment longer. “I see,” he said at last. “Well, I had to try.”
