Page 16 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
A smile flickers over his mouth. His thumb brushes my knuckles, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. “You’re not wearing a ring.”
“I could be in a serious relationship.”
“You’re not.”
“Oh no? And how would you know that?”
His smile deepens. In the low light, his eyes gleam as if he’s running a fever, too. “Because if you were, Ms. Price, you wouldn’t be looking at me like that.”
The nerve. The self-absorbed, stuck-up, egomaniacal nerve of this man!
It doesn’t help matters that I suspect he’s right.
I say icily, “Perhaps you need your eyes examined, Mr. Maxwell. Or your head.”
He chuckles. “Is that a yes or a no?”
I withdraw my hand from his grip and grant him my profile. “It’s neither. Have a nice life, Mr. Maxwell.”
I tell the driver I’m ready. Parker chuckles again, and then straightens. “You do the same, Ms. Price.”
He closes the door.
The car pulls away from the curb. I don’t look back. But I do wait several moments before I open my handbag, pull out my compact mirror, and hold it up to my face. Through the rear window, I have a perfect view of the restaurant receding into the night, and of Parker Maxwell standing at the rain-swept curb under the shadow of an umbrella, watching me go.
For the first time in hours, I can breathe. I wait until the subtle tremble has left my hands, and then I settle back into the seat and start to plot.
Let the games begin.
SIX
The next day promptly at noon, Tabby knocks on my office door, and then sticks her ponytailed head inside. When she sees me on the phone and starts to back out, I wave her in. I’m almost done with my weekly ten-thirty appointment, and I want to get started on the project I gave to Tabby last night after I returned from dinner.
“We’ve touched on this before, Katie. You know what to do when these thoughts paralyze you.”
There follows a short silence. Then my client says, “You know, Victoria, just once I’d like you to just tell me what to do, instead of making me do all the thinking for myself.”
“My aim as your life coach is to develop rather than impose. Remember how furious you used to get when Brokaw tried to tell you what to do at NBC?”
She sighs. ?
?I wish I knew you then. You’d have saved me fifteen years of ulcers.”
“Just trust the process. Ask yourself the core questions and re-evaluate the situation. Then decide what to do.”
“You’re not even going to give me a hint?”
I laugh. “Not even a little one. I have complete faith in your ability to work this out. And good luck with the Clinton interview. I know you’ll be amazing.”
“Thanks, Victoria. Same time next week?”
“Same time next week. ’Bye.”
“Good-bye.”
I set the phone in the cradle and look up to find Tabby gazing at me with a wry smile.
She says, “I’m sure Hillary Clinton will perform much better in her interview than Sarah Palin did back in ’08.”
