still have my purse. But my name’s not Ginger.”
True enough, yet unfortunately he couldn’t quite remember
what
she’d said her name was. Since it had been right about that time that Junior Martinez
had interrupted them. And in actuality he’d been a little more concerned with her
breasts, and her mouth, and the rest of her than he’d been with her name. It wasn’t
that he didn’t care about it—it was that he hadn’t cared about it
at that particular moment
.
“You’ll, uh, have to refresh my memory, sweetheart.”
Her pause, accompanied with a sigh he could hear, told him that irked her. “April
Pediston,” she said.
“Okay, got it.”
“My car’s parked on the next block, so you can let me out at this light,” she said—right
about the time he blew right through the intersection she’d indicated.
“What are you doing?” she snapped. “Why didn’t you stop?”
He didn’t look at her as he spoke, matter-of-factly, keeping his eyes on busy Ocean
Drive, currently teeming with well-moving traffic surrounded by plenty of pedestrians
as well. “Could you eat some pizza? After running through that kitchen, I could go
for some.”
She
, however, stared across the car at
him
in disbelief. He still watched the road, but he could feel the weight of her glare.
“After all this . . . weirdness, you want to take me out for pizza?”
“Something like that,” he told her. He didn’t really have a plan—he was just going
with what felt right at any given moment. “Maybe I’m . . . trying to apologize or
something.”
“Hmph,” she said, managing to sound both irritated and satisfied at the same time.
“Well, that’s definitely the most gentlemanly move you’ve made by far. And I’m glad
you agree that an apology is in order after the way you . . . well, the way you manhandled
me.”
Rogan held back the grin that wanted to sneak out, tossing her only a quick glance
before turning his attention back to the brightly lit street before him. “Except that’s
not what I’m apologizing for.”
He felt her look. “What are you apologizing for?”
“Getting you chased by a thug. And losing your jacket.”
“But not the rest,” she stated, apparently seeking clarification.
“Nope. You liked the rest. And so did I. Nothing to apologize for
there
, Ginger.”
“My name’s not—”
“Ginger. Yeah, I keep forgetting. Sorry.” He quickly searched his memory, just in
case she was getting ready to slug him. “April. So, pizza?”
She took her sweet time answering, and it was just starting to get on his nerves when
she said, “Yeah, sure, okay, I guess. Pizza.”
“All right,” he told her.
“And about that guy who was chasing us—what the hell was that about? I mean, should
I . . . be scared of you, Rogan Wolfe?”
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll explain all that over dinner. And as for whether you
should be scared of me . . . well, not because of the guy chasing us you shouldn’t.
But if you can’t handle what happened between us in that alley before he came along . . .
maybe you
should
be a little afraid, Ginger.”
* * *
I t was difficult, but April refrained from asking where he was taking her for pizza.
She was, in fact, attempting to keep from asking him anything else at all. She still
had a million questions, and talking made her less nervous than just sitting there
taking in the dark interior of his car and wondering exactly who Rogan Wolfe was,
but when he’d told her he’d explain over dinner, she’d gotten the distinct impression
he was ready for her to be quiet. Not that that would normally be enough to shut her
up. With anyone. But on some strange level, she wanted to please him. Though she had
no idea why.
Of course, maybe his last words a few minutes ago had played a part in shutting her
up, too. What was he saying exactly? That there was going to be more of what