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She suppressed a smile at the derisive tone. “You don’t approve?”
He turned left, away from the madness of the streets. She noticed the route was different to that which her driver usually took, but wasn’t worried. She trusted him.
“I don’t disapprove,” he responded laconically. “But if you’re asking if I’d be lining up to spend my spare time in that environment then the answer is no.”
“And what do you do in your spare time?”
From her vantage point, she could see the way his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“Work.”
She pouted. “That’s work. I mean for fun.”
“Are the two mutually exclusive?”
“So that’s your social life?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re not saying anything,” she responded with a lift of one brow. “In fact, you’re doing an excellent job of dodging whatever question I ask.”
She saw the way his face shifted, a smile instantaneous then just as swiftly removed. “Did you have fun tonight?” He asked instead, turning it back on her.
“It was work for me too.”
“Charity work?”
“Same same,” she lifted a shoulder. “I committed to coming. It’s an important cause. But I’m glad it’s over.”
“You were a natural out there.”
She pulled her lips to one side, thinking of how hard she’d had to work to become good at that – looking confident and assured, to parlay her looks into an advantage rather than something she wanted to downplay and minimize as much as she could.
“Turn left here,” she said, nodding.
He didn’t. She frowned. “You know where you’re going, right?”
“Haven’t we covered this?”
“Then why are you heading right around Paris? My apartment’s in that arrondisement?”
He didn’t answer and something like fear trickled through her veins. “You’re worried we’re being followed.”
“No.”
She spun in her seat, looking behind the car. “What is it? Which car?”
He made a gruff sound of amusement. “You’re being paranoid.”
“No, you’re being paranoid, if you’re taking me on a joyride just for the sake of it.”
“No one is following us.” He said it with complete confidence, so she knew he’d been scoping the surrounding cars to be sure of that fact. “But it’s good practice to choose different routes than one might expect. Predictability is the enemy of proper security.”
She eased back in her seat, somewhat mollified. “I see.”
They were quiet for the rest of the drive, but it wasn’t a comfortable silence. How could it be when every second that passed stretched Max’s nerves almost to breaking point? She was aware of his every movement, of the way he filled out the car, she was aware of the way her body responded, wanting him, needing him, wishing she could touch him again then remembering with a burst of embarrassment how that had gone the night before.
No more drinking around Noah Storm, rule number one.
