Key to Love (2 page)

“Be my guest, Miss Springer. Give it your best shot. I’ll wait.” He gestured to a row of nearby seats. “Hell, I could use a thirty-minute break. Word of caution about the suit you’re wearing—I’d be inclined to tread lightly around those sticky little munchkins with the ice cream cones. Give me a high sign if you get lucky, and I’ll head out.”

He dropped onto a chair, crossed his arms, and fell silent. Lord, he had almost forgotten how bull-headed she could be. And Fritz had the audacity to call her scrappy? He snorted. Scrappy hardly made a dent in defining her. But if she wanted to burn up valuable time at a rinky-dink car rental booth when he owned a whole flipping fleet of cars, why should he care?

Chapter Two

Elise Springer scrutinized the crowd at the booth and winced as threads of guilt pulled at her sense of logic. At best, she would waste a half hour inching her way to the front of the line. She turned back to meet Lucas’s gaze and found him staring appreciatively at her backside and legs. That he was doing it on purpose made her blood boil. She was tired and hungry, and she prayed she’d never have to walk a hundred steps more in the new shoes she was wearing. She stomped back to where he sat.

“Are you getting an eyeful?”

“Yeah, are you getting a car?” His smile quickly turned to a grin. A lazy grin. One she had almost forgotten. He stretched out his booted feet, crossing them at the ankles. Facing off, they stared at each other.

Though she hated to admit it, he was outrageously good-looking, even in his worn jeans, faded black tee-shirt, and boots that had seen better days. He had changed considerably since she had last seen him, over ten years ago, during her second year in college when he was home on leave from the Army. Age had chiseled his face even more and taken away any hint of boyish features. But he had the same thick crop of ebony hair and a trademark dark scowl that seemed to reinforce his devil-may-care demeanor. His body, lean and trim, was a hardened mass of muscle. He had been raised by his grandmother just a few miles up the road from Elise’s house and had spent more of his high school years swiping leftovers from her parents’ refrigerator than from his own. All through childhood and high school, he and her brother, Fritz, had been loyal, inseparable friends. Elise wondered what his car restoration business actually entailed, but she didn’t think it would be polite to start grilling him within ten minutes of meeting him.

“Listen, I have an idea.” He stood, rolling his shoulders to dislodge the kinks. He scrubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “Let’s put the rental on hold for the time being.”

“How long have you been up?” she asked.

“Since about five this morning.”

“Oh, Lucas, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“No, it’s all right. Five wouldn’t have been so bad if your dad, Fritz, and I hadn’t stayed up until one this morning playing poker. Anton and I had high hopes of cleaning your brother’s clock.”

“And did you?”

He laughed. “Fritz? Get real. He bluffed the money right out of our pockets.” He glanced again at the long line leading to the rental cars. “If you’re all fired up about renting a car, how about I bring you back later? We’re on a tight schedule here.”

“Sounds reasonable.” She glanced again at the line where two new people had already taken her place. “Sorry, I’m not thinking straight.” She watched his smoke-colored eyes narrow. She rubbed her forehead where a headache was threatening and wondered why on earth she was taking the time to validate herself.

“A day of surprises, huh?” he asked softly.

Elise sighed. “Complicated,” she admitted. She wasn’t about to tell him she had almost gotten herself fired. For the first time in her life, she had told their most valuable client, Mort Levinson, what she really was thinking when he decided to change all the plans for a new hotel they were building together, along with the lead contractor and dozens of subcontractors. Luckily, the eccentric old man, a multi-millionaire and genius businessman to boot, had taken a shine to Elise and her work a long time ago. Also luckily, he had a sense of humor. She was also fortunate Chuck Sanders, one of the senior partners, was a jovial and forgiving sort, especially since they had clinched the deal and averted a crisis with Levinson who, it was rumored, was planning a series of new hotels in five major cities across the United States. Paul “Mr. Personality” Winston, the other half of the firm, was another matter. The pompous, cold-hearted dimwit didn’t even want to give her time off for a family emergency, even when she pleaded and promised she’d use her vacation days.

They set out again, and she felt the heat of his fingers on her arm as he guided her around an airport shuttle car. “So just what do you do in your swanky California office besides drive people nuts?” His breath was a soft whisper near her ear.

“I design structures of all sorts, complete with parking lots and landscaping. I coordinate the interior decorating, if the client chooses. I oversee the construction and handle details and difficult clients. I work hard at the last two, especially in-house mediating.”

The last remark made him chuckle.

“I’m serious, Lucas, it’s what I do best. Hold up.” She skidded to a halt near a small alcove where a vendor sold books and magazines. She slipped off a shoe, pretending to shake out some irritating piece of grit. It was as good a time as any to give her feet a much-needed break. Why had she ever decided to wear a new pair of shoes on a trip across country? Italian leather be damned. Her feet were cramped and swollen, and were turning red and blue. She’d choke on her tongue, she decided, rather than admit her shoe dilemma to him, or to any living male. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Sure I believe you. You should be an expert by now.” He nodded and watched her, his hand shoved into the back pocket of his jeans. Elise wondered whether he was thinking back to when she used to twirl her brothers around her little finger throughout high school. For that matter, middle and elementary school, too. “So what happens when you get unyielding ones?” he asked.

“I poison the coffee of those dudes.”

For the first time, Elise heard him laugh. Really laugh. It was rich, deep and smooth, all sensually male.

“I suppose that’s just as humane as running them down with four thousand pounds of metal and rubber, which would have been my first instinct.”

They entered the luggage area, and she was relieved to find her two suitcases already waiting and spinning slowly around the carousel.

Easing the case from his grip, she pointed out her luggage. “We’d better get a cart or porter,” she suggested.

He swung the luggage off the belt, shoulder muscles bunching beneath his tee-shirt screen printed with a blurb about enjoying speed behind a 350-cubic-inch V8 engine. He set both down and pulled the handles out. “Got them. Through there.” He jerked his head toward an exit.

In the parking lot, Lucas hustled her quickly between rows of cars bearing colorful license plates from around the country, and stopped beside a glistening, black Pontiac.

“A ’77 Trans Am?
This
is yours?” Elise moved past him to get a better view while she slipped a foot out of the worse-offending shoe, balancing a toe on the warm concrete. She had been trained to have an eye for detail, and the Trans Am was sleek, its lines highlighted by the flawless finish. It was polished to a brilliant shine and sparkled like glass in sunlight. She remembered he had always loved to tinker with mechanical things. Growing up, he and Fritz had spent endless hours under the hood of Fritz’s jeep. They had watched
Smokey and the Bandit
so many times, they had worn out the VCR tape and had to buy another one.

“For the next thirty days.” He tossed the bags into the trunk. “Then she’s headed to a buyer in Atlanta.”

“You restored this?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of a hobby and business all rolled into one.” The shoe trick didn’t get by him. Gray eyes peered at her naked foot. “Hurt yourself?”

She hurriedly stepped into the shoe. “No, my shoes hurt. They pinch my toes.”

“Why don’t you buy ones that fit?”

“I thought I did.”

He shook his head, as if he had heard the same line a dozen times and probably from a dozen females. A tattered blanket lay inside the trunk and he tossed it aside. Two children’s books tumbled out.

He’s married, or has been, Elise thought, and there’s a child involved.

Following her gaze, Lucas straightened. “Long story, Liz.”

She glanced at him long enough to see his eyes cloud over. Was it sadness? Or despair? The curtain fell quickly, blocking any emotion as his scowl returned.

“So what’s the deal?” he asked.

“Deal? What deal?”

He gestured to her arms where she was unconsciously cradling the computer in a protective embrace. “Are you intimately attached to that heap of leather?”

She blushed. “I get a little overprotective with my gear.”

“Smuggling data, huh?”

“No, nothing that exciting.” Elise handed it to him and waited until he stashed it in the corner of the trunk, wedging it in with the blanket. Rounding the car, she reached for the door handle only to feel the warmth of his hand as it covered hers. Startled, she peered up, pulling her hand away.

“Don’t be too astonished, Lizzie. I did manage to pick up a few finer points over the last few years, though I don’t make them a habit. I can’t afford to ruin my bad boy image.”

Determined not to start another war, Elise slid into the soft leather seat that wrapped around her like a second skin as she buckled her seat belt. She ditched the shoes again. It felt glorious to free her cramped toes. “I always wondered why men referred to these machines as female.”

Lucas settled himself in the driver’s seat. “Because they’re soft, sleek, fickle, and my, oh my, can they purr under the right touch.” His hands lovingly caressed the steering wheel. Grinning, he turned the key in the ignition and artfully maneuvered the car through the mazelike parking garage.

She had no doubt the remark and gesture were meant to get a rise from her, but before she could make a retort, the alarm on her watch triggered. Irritating bleeps swamped the Pontiac’s interior. The car screeched to a halt, brakes grabbing and propelling her against the shoulder harness.

Lucas turned to face her. “What the hell is that?”

“My watch.” She pushed her sleeve up and fumbled with the buttons on her wrist. “It’s my daily four o’clock reminder to check my client list before I leave the office.”

“You have a wristwatch with an alarm
and
a cell phone?”

She worked frantically, toying with the button to no avail. “Just my dumb luck, it doesn’t want to turn off.” She felt her face grow hot and tore the watch from her wrist, all but slamming it against the door frame. Inside the closed car, the steady beeping grew increasingly annoying.

“Oh, for the love of Pete!” Lucas reached over and snatched it out of her shaking hands. Cutting the engine, he opened the door and slid out.

In the rear view mirror, Elise watched the trunk fly up and then slam shut. Seconds later, he settled himself behind the wheel again. He raised an eyebrow. “Any other distractions we need to dispense with?”

She tried to sound contrite. “I only have the phone left.”

She withdrew the phone from her purse, fiddled with a setting, and slipped it back inside. She stole a peek at his face, which was hard to read. It was less than an hour and already they were at each other’s throats, just like when they were kids.

A pair of low-heeled shoes appeared under her nose.

“Put these on while you’re at it.”

Shoes. Her shoes. Her old, black leather flats. From her luggage. “Where did you get these?”

“I ran out to a 7-Eleven and scarfed them up. Where do you think
I got them?”

“You went through my suitcases?” Her voice rose an octave. The thought of him rummaging through her personal belongings without permission made her blood boil. “How dare you?”

He took a deep breath as if he was summoning his last ounce of patience. “You needed shoes, Liz.” He gestured to the shoes on the floor. “Those three-inch stilts weren’t cutting it. The other alternative was a drag rope.”

“I can’t believe you rifled through my clothing!”

He popped the clutch, leaving rubber on the smooth concrete. “If you’re fired up I might divulge any of your sizes, rest assured, it’ll never happen. I only talk”—he paused to concentrate on maneuvering the car through the exit and onto the highway, darting easily between slower moving vehicles to access the fast lane—“under torture.”

Tired from the flight, she leaned back in the seat and let silence settle around them. She was too tired to quibble over the watch or shoes and was content to let the landscape fly by in a whirling multitude of colors. Through the half-open window, she could smell the light, earthy scent of spring. She had been in the city so long she had almost forgotten how glorious clean air smelled. Pennsylvania was lush green now, bearing up to the soft spring rains. Soon cows with swollen, round bellies would be grazing in brilliant emerald pastures, awaiting calving and motherhood. Late-blooming tulips would be bursting into colorful mounds of yellows and reds, and the farm’s lilacs into shades of rose, lavender, and white.

Several minutes later, Lucas looked over at her as he reached to turn on the radio. “Tell me, have you ever forgotten one of those fancy gadgets and had withdrawal symptoms?”