Free Picture This by Jayne Denker Page A

least. Not in the least ,” he repeated for emphasis, giving her a significant look.
    â€œYou sure? That’s a mighty long front end.”
    He smirked as he shut her door and jogged around to the driver’s side. God, he felt so good all of a sudden. Yes, he was worried about her grandmother, and he was disappointed she was going to be out of town for a while, but right now, with Celia beside him in his funkmobile on a peaceful Saturday morning . . . well, he couldn’t think of anything better.
    When they were buckled in, he smiled over at her and turned the key in the ignition. Click. Nothing. He smiled again as though that hadn’t just happened. Back to one, as they said on set, and . . . take two. Click. Nothing. “Er . . . hang on a minute.”
    â€œDoes the Stinger often, um, fail to perform?”
    â€œI don’t like what you’re implying, missy. I’ll have you know this finely tuned instrument runs great. Every time. And can run for hours at a time.”
    â€œSo what’s the problem today?”
    â€œIt’s been in storage a while.”
    â€œA likely story.”
    Niall just growled and tried to start the car again. Nothing.
    â€œMaybe I should just take the subway.”
    No! Niall wanted to shout. If she rode the subway, he couldn’t travel with her. Well, he could, but his presence in public places had been known to cause serious disruptions as dozens, sometimes hundreds, of people clamored for his autograph and photos. Even thinking it sounded massively egotistical, so he said nothing, except, “Just give the Stinger one more chance.”
    Â 
    In the end, it took several more chances—and eventually a jump from a pleasant neighborhood resident with a car parked nearby—before the Stinger went anywhere. Niall had wanted to make the trip to Port Authority a leisurely drive—one where they could chat. Now he had to go as fast as possible.
    He risked a glance at his passenger as he pulled away from the curb. She looked skittish. “I know what you’re thinking.”
    â€œThat I missed my bus?”
    Dammit.
    â€œI’ll get the next one,” she added quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”
    â€œOr . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI could drive you to Marsden.”
    Celia stiffened in the low-slung bucket seat. It was meant for lounging, for leisurely drives looking smug in such a kick-ass vehicle, but she managed to sit bolt upright all the same.
    â€œYou can’t be serious. This is not a casual drive, Niall. It’s not fake ‘upstate’—not Poughkeepsie or any other place that’s spitting distance from the boroughs. This is all the way into the mountains. Hours away.”
    He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do today. Plus we still have business to discuss. If you don’t have free time to hang around in the city, this is the next best thing.”
    â€œI can’t ask you to drive three hours—”
    â€œYou didn’t ask me. I offered.”
    â€œNo, you just decided .”
    â€œI’m not kidnapping you. I’m going to deliver you to your family at the end of the trip.”
    â€œBut I don’t have a choice. I mean, unless I jump out of a moving car, I’m pretty much stuck.”
    Niall smoothly skimmed over to an empty space on the side of the road. “You’re not a prisoner.”
    She stared at him, assessing. It killed him that there was so much caution in her suddenly veiled gaze.
    â€œOkay. Okay, fine.” He picked up his phone and did a little googling, then turned it toward her. “There’s another bus to points north, including Marsden, at four forty-five. Should take about six and a half hours. It’ll be a nice night for you. Hope you brought some reading material.” Celia didn’t reply, but he got the sense she was wavering. “Look, just let me . . . I don’t know. Give me another