Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(9)
That a former tomboy like Chloe even owned a sexy dress took him aback. Other than that afternoon, when she’d been wearing next to nothing, he’d never seen her wear anything but baggy clothes that hid the budding figure beneath. The dress she wore now hugged womanly curves while the square neckline showcased a hint of cleavage. Had her tomboy ways vanished completely?
“Wow, look at your car.” She stopped on the bottom step and planted her hands on her hips to check out the Porsche. She wasn’t a tall woman, but the wedge-heeled sandals made her tan legs look a mile long. “Late seventies SC?”
With effort, he recovered his ability to speak. “Yeah, uh, seventy-nine.”
“Thought so.” Grinning, she strode forward and climbed in without giving him time to come around the hood and open the door for her. When he remained standing where he was, as if rooted to the ground, she leaned over to peer up at him through the open driver’s side door. “You getting back in?”
Hell, no, he wanted to say. He feared he’d pounce on her instead of confessing. He didn’t want to blurt the truth out too fast, though. She’d likely climb out, slam the door, and tell him to get lost. He’d never get her to help him claim the necklace that way.
Besides, Blade’s voice argued, the woman’s clearly dressed for a date, eh? Spoiling that is hardly the way to put her in a receptive frame of mind. Why not bide your time? Soften her up a mite first?
Deciding the idea had merit, he climbed in. Taking hold of the wheel, he tried to look straight ahead, but his gaze drifted sideways. Noticing how the hem of the red dress had inched up her thigh, he cleared his throat. “Nice dress.”
“What? This old thing?” she said in an exaggerated Southern accent. When he made a somewhat strangled sound of approval, she laughed. Her eyelids lowered as she took in the lightweight sweater he wore over a button-down shirt with the tails showing. “I take it you’re into fashion.”
Her observation sounded almost like a question, but her voice held a hint of disapproval. That threw him. Had his Style App failed him? Or was there some other reason she didn’t like what he was wearing? Or was he just imagining disapproval? God, this was why women in the real world freaked him out. They spoke in some code that wasn’t based on logic. There was no X equals Y. It was always X equals Y unless it equals Z, or A, because you said J, which means M. Who could follow algorithms like that?
Rather than chance hanging himself with the wrong answer, he started the car. “So, where are we going?”
“I vote for Chez Lafitte. Best seafood in town. If that’s okay with you.”
“Always trust the locals.” He turned the car around and drove back to the main road. “I take it you like cars.”
“Mustangs are my weakness. My father bought me a sixty-four and a half Rangoon Red convertible with a white rag top for my high school graduation present.”
“Nice gift.” He arched his brows, not at all surprised, though, since he knew she came from money with a capital M.
“Having him come to the ceremony would have been nicer,” she said offhandedly.
“Your dad missed your graduation?” Now that surprised him.
“My parents divorced when I was really young and my father travels a lot.” She shrugged. “Which means a whole lot of guilt offerings for me.” She beamed as if having her father miss her graduation hadn’t been a big deal. “I’ve gotten some good ones over the years.”
Luc frowned, trying to imagine his parents missing any of his major life milestones. He couldn’t. Unconventional as they were, they’d always been there for him, whether they agreed with his choices or not.
“Tell me about this baby.” The way she ran her hands over the tan leather seat to either side of her bare thighs had heat pooling in his groin. He nearly groaned as he wondered how he’d make it through the evening without developing an embarrassingly obvious erection. “She looks straight off the showroom floor. Was she like this when you found her?”
“Not hardly.” Pulling his thoughts away from Chloe’s hands on his body, he remembered the day sales for Vortal Version Three went so viral they crashed the server. He’d decided he deserved a car worthy of his success. A man who made his fortune creating worlds couldn’t buy something off a showroom floor, though. He needed something custom. Something that represented the company he’d built from scratch: a car that had once been dismissed as hopeless but was now powerful, fast, and envied. “I rescued her one step away from the scrap yard.”
“You restored her yourself?” Admiration lit up her face.
“No.” He chuckled at the thought, not just of him having time to tackle such a job, but of a klutz like him picking up a blow torch. He’d probably burn the garage down. “I took her to a restorer who specializes in vintage sports cars.”
“Looks like you added a few aftermarket touches,” she said, eyeing the MP3 docking station and navigation screen in the dashboard.
“A few,” he admitted, smiling at the understatement.
To his relief, Chloe kept the conversation flowing effortlessly, mostly about cars, as he drove across the wooden bridge back to Galveston Island. Harborside Drive took them quickly into the historic district, where the low sun gilded the fa?ades of the Victorian architecture. Pedestrians strolled in and out of art galleries and antiques shops.