Page 9 of His Property

“Uh, all right, I guess I’ll go do… something. See you tomorrow, Craig.” I put on a smiling face, but I was fuming inside.

I stomped out to my car, pissed I wouldn’t make any money today, and pissed off at Winters for throwing his fucking weight around. At least the drizzle had stopped. I was about to put the key in the Honda’s door lock, then paused, deciding to open the envelope first. But just as I was about to rip the top flap with my key, there was the low hum of a high-performance engine, a vehicle pulling into the space behind me. I squeezed closer to my car reflexively, still staring down at the envelope.

What was he up to? This was so bizarre.

“I want to talk to you about something.”

I froze.

Winters.

Turning slowly, I stood with my hand on my jeans-clad hip, the envelope waving in the other, held up before me like a talisman.

Winters was wearing sunglasses, his window down as he gazed up at me.

“What is this for?” I asked. “And why did you tell my boss I can’t work today?”

He said nothing though, the vaguely smug curve to his lips making me want to smack him.

I shook the envelope in his face. “I don’t care if you’re Craig’s best client. You can’t get everything you want just because you have money.”

“Interesting theory…”

“Oh, Christ.” I looked up, trying to gather myself. The man’s utter unflappability both provoked me and drew me.

He’s still an asshole, cute or not.

“What’s really going on here? I’m just the… cleaning girl. Why are you fucking with me like this?”

“How old are you?”

“What? Why does that… twenty-three. How old areyou?” I cringed inside at the petulance of the question, but he’d knocked me completely off balance. The fact that I was totally in the dark about where he was going with this frustrated me. But it intrigued me, too. I hated myself for that, but it was true.

Winters took off his sunglasses, those brilliant eyes fixing upon me. They flicked beyond me for a moment, then they locked with my gaze once more.

He didn’t answer me though, cocking a thumb toward my car. “How come you haven’t had the old jalopy washed and detailed yet?”

“Because I wasbusy.”

Now who’s being the asshole?

“I’d better get something for my money,” he barked, making me jerk just the slightest. His voice had the same unusual magnetism his eyes did. I didn’t like it… and yet, I did.

I tried to ignore that though, my irritation continuing to stew.

“Do you even wonder what’s in the envelope?”

“No,” I lied. “I should just give it back to you. I don’t really care what’s in it.”

He scowled at that. “Come on. Get in before I change my mind about this.”

“About what?”

His finger jutted at me, just the barest hint of steel in his tone. “Get your smart ass in the car.”

I grunted in frustration, then threw my hands up. “Fine.” I opened the door and dropped into the seat, pulling my legs in. I left the door ajar though.

“Close it. Then open the envelope.”

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