“Oh no,” she said, her hand coming up between them, “don’t think I am into this or anything, because I don’t want you around, but still, the presumption—”
“Oh, okay—it’s fine for you to mess around, but not me,” he said, dropping her arms. “So do you use a ladder to get up on that high horse, or what?”
Now she was pissed. “What I do is none of your business.”
“Pardon me, Bubbles, but I thought there were two of us out there—”
“Big mistake! Trust me!”
Jake stopped, glared down at her. “Thanks for clarifying. All I was trying to say last night, and pretty badly, it seems, is that I am not trying to take advantage of you. I don’t know where this is going—at least I didn’t, but I guess I do now. You don’t want me around? I understand—it’s not like we come from the same planet, is it? I am reminded of that pretty constantly.”
“Ooh . . .” Robin muttered. Her heart began doing that funny skip thing again. “Jake . . .” she started, but the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires startled them both.
“Madam, your broom has arrived,” Jake said as the limo coasted into the drive and rolled to a halt right in front of them. Robin groaned as the driver got out and walked back to open the passenger door.
Evan was already climbing out before the driver could pull it completely open; he stared at Robin and Jake across the hood of the car. “Rob? What are you doing?” he asked, eyeing Jake.
“What do you mean?” she asked, self-consciously taking a step away from Jake.
Evan kept looking at Jake. “I mean, are you ready?” he asked, his voice cool.
Other than the fact she didn’t want to leave now, not until she could say . . . what? That she was sorry, that she really liked him, that she had a great time yesterday. “I’ll just get my things,” she muttered, more to herself, and walked quickly to the house to retrieve her computer, overnight bag, and her new, thanks-to-Mia Hermès purse.
When she walked back outside, Jake hadn’t moved, was still standing there, his weight on one hip, calmly regarding Evan. Evan had come around to this side of the limo, was leaning up against it, one leg crossed over the other, his arms folded across his chest. Both men turned as she walked out onto the drive.
“Ready?” an unsmiling Evan said, stepping aside so the driver could open the door.
“Yes.” Robin shifted the bag on her shoulder and looked at Jake. “I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Don’t rush on my account,” he said and glared at Evan again.
The driver quickly relieved Robin of her overnight bag and computer; Evan held the door open for her, then climbed in to sit beside her. As the limo pulled out of the drive, she caught one last look at Jake over her shoulder. Although his head was down, he was watching her leave, methodically pushing a tape measure in and out, in and out, until she could no longer see him.
Robin faced forward. Evan smiled. “Your handyman seems like a nice guy.”
“He’s not a handyman.”
“Oh, sorry,” Evan chuckled. “What is the politically correct term for handyman?”
“So who is going to meet us at the airport?” she asked, changing the subject.
Evan opened his Tod briefcase and presented her with a sheaf of papers. “You need to review this before we get there,” he said, and as Robin took the stack of papers, he buzzed the driver and instructed him to find a Starbucks.
That the company jet made a very bumpy descent into Minot should have been the first clue, but nothing could have prepared Robin for the gale-force arctic wind that almost knocked her on her butt and did quite a number on her hair. Mr. Lou Harvey was on hand to meet them, dressed in a blue polyester sport coat, a very thick polyester-ish tie, and a white button-down shirt. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked down under an impenetrable shield of Brylcreem, and his black tortoiseshell glasses drew immediate attention to his watery amber eyes.
“Lou Harvey! Glad to meet you!” he boomed, popped a Rolaids into his mouth, and vigorously shook Evan’s hand, then Robin’s, wincing outwardly at her hair. “Do you want to visit the ladies’ room before we get started?”