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“Sorry,” she shouted and turned it down.
He pushed her hand away and hit an oldies station playing Sam Cooke. “How can you play that disco crap in this car?”
“Because it’smycar.Mybeautiful, vintage T-bird that you may drive and covet, but always know it is mine and I can do whatever I want in it.”
He slid his arm along the back of her seat and reversed out of the driveway. “Hmm, that could lead me to some interesting suggestions.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and put the car in drive.
“Max. Jesus, who would have known you were a nymphomaniac? Besides, you always try and drive boring cars. Even the color is boring. Do you think you could pick another color than tan or brown?”
As he shot past another car on the two-lane highway, Anna cussed.
“Max. Do you think maybe you should slow it down a bit?”
“Nope.”
He accelerated, enjoying the feel of the evening air, dewy with the afternoon rain. The power of her car took hold, and he tightened his hands on the wheel. Damn but he loved the car. Always had. She rarely let him—or anyone else—drive it. He’d loved it since he helped her pick it out two years earlier. He glanced over at Anna and noticed the frown of displeasure.
“I’m going the speed limit.”
“No. You’re not.” She leaned forward to look at the dial. “You’re speeding.”
“I’m within five miles of the speed limit. That means I’m not really speeding.”
When she didn’t say anything for a few moments, he looked over at her again. She studied him like he was some sort of experiment gone bad.
“This isn’t like you, Max. You usually go below the speed limit, and you always pay attention to the road.”
He glanced back at the road and saw the entrance for the convention center. Slowing down, he easily turned into the parking lot, then found a space up front. When he killed the engine, he noticed she was still staring at him suspiciously.
“What?”
“You aren’t acting like yourself.”
Without hesitating, he leaned forward, cupped the back of her neck with his hand and drew her closer to him. He brushed his lips over hers, then said, “Don’t worry about it, Anna. I’m trying out all kinds of new things.”
After he gave her another quick kiss, he got out of the car, hurrying to open the door for her. As she stepped out, he noticed Josephine Swanson was watching them. Next to her stood her son, the manager of their family-owned gym. Freddy Swanson, the one Anna had dated in high school. Rumor had it that he’d gone bankrupt in some business he’d started in Atlanta and had to beg for help from his family. He was eyeing them with lascivious interest that made Max want to go smack the bastard. When Anna noted his interest, she turned to the mother and son and smiled.
“Mrs. Swanson, Freddy. How are you two doing?”
Mrs. Swanson smiled at Anna, apparently unaware her son was giving Anna a little too much interest.
“Good evening, Anna. I see you two made it as usual. How are things at the restaurant?”
“Oh, they’re fine.” Anna shut the door and stepped up on the curb. “You should come in for the new lunch items. I have a gazpacho soup I know you would love.”
The older woman patted Anna on the hand and started to walk away. When she noticed her son hadn’t followed—mainly because he was inching toward Anna—Mrs. Swanson said, “Freddy, come on. I told you I wanted to make sure to get a good seat.”
Max stepped up next to Anna. Freddy studied them, his gaze moving from Anna to Max, and then let himself be led away by his mother. As he watched them walk away, Max noticed that Freddy glanced back at them a couple of times. An urge to stake his claim overtook Max’s better judgment. He slipped his arm over Anna’s shoulders and pulled her closer to him. She shot him a warning look, but he pretended he hadn’t seen it and urged her to walk.
“Max.”
She rolled one shoulder, but he just held on tighter. It was asinine and damn near embarrassing, but the look of interest Freddy had thrown her had sent Max almost into a panic. As they neared the door, she stopped. He glanced down at her and frowned.
“Just what the hell is the matter?” he asked.
From the look she sent him, it probably wasn’t the best choice of questions.
“Hmm, not sure where I should start. From wanting to drive my baby, to acting like a Neanderthal on steroids, to the fact you are trying to get us through a doorway side by side when it isn’t big enough, I’m just not sure where to begin.”
