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She broke off when Lance smiled a smug smile.
‘It’s your car, isn’t it?’ she said frustratedly.
‘Sure is. Actually, Bud asked me to go buy some more beer from the local grog shop. He said you’d show me where to go. I’m sure he had no idea you were thinking of going home. Why are you, anyway? The night’s still young. Who knows? You might get lucky, after all.’
Angie chose to ignore Lance’s last remarks. ‘Why doesn’t Bud go get the beer himself?’
‘Because he’s finally cornered a very important potential client. You know what advertising people are like, Angie. Much the same as insurance salesmen. They’re always working.’
Angie felt that underneath his light-hearted attitude Lance was denigrating her brother’s profession. ‘Well, at least Bud works,’ she bit out.
Lance looked taken aback. ‘You think I don’t?’
Angie shrugged, aware that she’d been abominably rude to Lance tonight. Whether or not he deserved her contempt was not the point.
‘One day,’ he grated, taking her elbow, ‘I’m going to sit you down and tell you some cold, hard facts about my life. You have a very jaundiced view of it. But not tonight,’ he added as he shepherded her down the steep driveway past her small red Lancer and over to the passenger door of his car. ‘Tonight is Bud’s birthday party, some more beer is needed, and his sweet sister is going to show me where to get it!’
‘I will, provided there’s no funny business,’ she stated firmly at the passenger door. ‘No passes. No suggestive remarks. No nothing. Just down to the grog shop and back again. Then I get to take my car home.’
‘Scout’s honour,’ Lance said, and crossed his heart.
‘Hmph!’ Angie grunted. ‘I doubt you were ever a Boy Scout, Lance Sterling.’ And she wrenched open the car door.
She didn’t recognise the make and didn’t much care. It was a rich man’s car, which smelt of real leather and had probably cost a fortune. She climbed in and belted herself properly, determined not to make a single complimentary remark. Let him think that she often rode around in rich men’s cars! Let him think whatever he damned well liked about her, as long as he kept his hands off!
‘Second street on the right,’ she told him sharply, once he’d reversed out and was heading in the right direction. ‘There’s a drive-in bottle shop a couple of hundred yards down on the left.’
There certainly was, but its driveway was crammed with cars. Lance parked in the street, growling, ‘Be back in a minute,’ before he alighted and strode off to get the beer.
Butterflies invaded her stomach as she waited for him to return. She wasn’t sure why. Was it that she didn’t trust Lance—or herself? Sitting there quietly in the car was certainly not conducive to sensible thinking. It allowed that devil’s voice back into her mind, the one which told her not to let Lance get away a second time, to take what was on offer, even if it was only sex. After all, it wouldn’t be just sex on her part, would it? It would be making love as well.
Yeah, right, she argued back silently. And what do you think would happen as soon as he found out you were a virgin? A man of his experience would know for sure. You wouldn’t be able to pull the wool over Lance’s eyes. Too bad you’re not the free spirit you’ve been painting yourself to be all evening, then there wouldn’t be any trouble.
What irony, Angie conceded bleakly. Who would have believed that her old-fashioned morality would cost her what she had always wanted most, besides Lance’s love?
Still, her thoughts had calmed her agitation somewhat, and had made her see that to run off home like a frightened rabbit was totally unnecessary. Recalling her virginal state had strengthened her earlier resolve not to do anything with Lance. She would rather die than be on the end of his mockery!
He came striding back, smiling wryly over at her as he climbed into the car. ‘You stayed,’ he said somewhat drily. ‘I thought you might run away again.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m done with running away for tonight.’
‘And what, precisely, does that mean?’ he demanded to know.
