“Please let me explain.”
Michael’s ringtone finally shut up and she grabbed her shirt from the seat next to her and struggled to turn it right side out, still trembling. “Some things defy explanation. They defy reason.” She wrapped the shirt around her and tied the bow with a hard jerk. “Or logic.”
His gut burned like he’d swallowed a bottle of Drano. “I’m sorry.”
“Some things also defy forgiveness, Will.” She picked up her skirt and wrestled it over her legs, snapping it closed with a pop. “Tell the driver to pull over and let me out.”
“No.” He couldn’t. Not until he explained.
“I’ll press kidnapping charges. Don’t think I won’t. Let me out.”
Fuck. “Please. Give me five minutes. If after that you want out, we’ll pull over.”
“How could you possibly expect me to trust you to make good on your word after what I just heard?”
“Because what you heard isn’t what it sounds like.” Only, it sort of was, he realized grimly. “Because it’s important that you not leave thinking the wrong thing. Because what you think and feel matter to me.” He slumped into his seat as the truth hit him. “Because you matter to me.”
They stared at each other as “Smooth Operator” struck up again, followed immediately by “Kung Fu Fighting.”
“You have five minutes. Then you’re going to let me out.” She put on her glasses and glanced at her watch. “Go.”
Chapter Nine
Will turned his phone off and threw it on the seat behind him as he moved over to Claire’s side.
“No way. Stay as far away from me as possible.” She pointed to the corner opposite her.
He moved to where she indicated. “It’s not what you think.” He pushed the button to talk to Jacob. “Please drive directly to Miss Maddox’s apartment.”
“Yes, sir.”
She stared at him, unblinking. He looked almost helpless slumped in the seat across from her. Almost. She knew better. She’d heard his brother.
It all made sense now. She never could quite wrap her head around why a man like Will Anderson would want to spend time with her. Well, now she knew. He wanted to pump her for information. Literally. A wave of nausea tumbled through her.
“To think I almost…” She couldn’t look at him. “That I let you…” In her peripheral vision, she saw him squirm and she thought about what he was doing to her when Michael had called and interrupted them. Thank heavens he called. “My God. I was about to…” Her sentence fell off into a sob. How could she have been so stupid?
“Claire. Please listen.”
Her shock had shifted to anger—pure and sharp and deep—clawing its way up from her gut and ripping straight through her heart on its way to the surface. She’d been mad at Eric for his selfishness, confused and hurt when she found her mother’s letter, and sad when her grandparents had died, but she’d never been betrayed and used—and at this moment, the only thing she was sure of was that she would never let it happen again. Never.
“You were going to sleep with me to find out if I was a spy? What kind of spy?”
“Someone is poaching clients using inside information.”
A cold chill ran down her spine. He suspected her of spying on his company. “You were on a recon mission, huh? Just a job, wasn’t it, Will?”
He had a stricken look on his face. “No!”
“Why on earth did you and your brother suspect I was a spy?”
“Because you fit the description given by clients. You started work right when the cases began. You have access to the information. You understand the value of antiquities. And you have five-fucking-million dollars in your bank account as of yesterday.”
Well, if she thought she was mad before, she had to redefine it now. Will had just raised the bar for furious. “Stop the car.”
“Hell, no.”
“How do you know about the money?”
His eyes shifted to his lap before they met hers. “I overheard you talking to Heather on the phone about being rich and leaving the country. About not liking people snooping.”
She thought back over that conversation and saw how in light of the other coincidental things, that could have been misconstrued, but… “I never specified the amount. How do you know how much?” Then she remembered the guy who’d asked Heather about her. And Will knew where she lived even though she had not put it in her Anderson file. Angry prickles shifted up her neck. “You had me investigated. You’ve got some super-spy thing going on, don’t you?”
From the look on his face, she knew she’d hit it on the nose. What she really wanted to do was hit his nose. “What else did you find out about me? That I eat ice cream right out of the container and dance naked in my living room?”
“You do?”