Page 48 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
She folded her clothes into her duffel bag, making a quick sweep of the bathroom to ensure she didn’t leave anything behind, especially girl-sized dents in the shower floor. Her blushes already gave enough away. He didn’t need to know the full extent of her attraction. Or her clumsiness. Or the apparent link between the two.
When she’d fully collected her belongings and her wherewithal, she headed upstairs and set her bag by the front door.
“Leaving already?” Angus asked as he joined her in the foyer.
“I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Also, I have these biweekly phone calls with my parents. Mom at two. Dad at three. I have to fit in a solid helping of parental disapproval before I can enjoy another week of professional disapproval.” She sat on a leather bench and put on her sneakers. Then she found her sunglasses and ski hat.
“Hang on. Before you go.” Angus opened a coat closet, took out a well-worn ball cap, and handed it to her. She melted a little when she saw the logo. New York Yankees. “The winter hat’s a dead giveaway. Besides, this one suits you better.”
“This one suits anyone better.” She wedged the cap onto her head and tucked her hair behind her ears, adding her sunglasses and pausing to admire her new disguise in a nearby mirror. “Those SUVs are going to be out there again, aren’t they?”
“Probably. The story’s hot right now. Drive the speed limit. Don’t slow down. Look straight ahead. Unless they’ve tracked your plates, you don’t have to worry.”
Her chest tightened. “People do that?”
“It’s been known to happen.”
“Forget what I said about wanting another sleepover offer.” She let out a nervous laugh, one that came out juddering and breathy. It died away when she caught the lack of laughter in Angus’s eyes. Hislips were pressed together and a familiar crease had formed between his brows. Suddenly his magical skybox didn’t seem so magical. It felt more like an essential safe house. “This was nice, though, getting to know each other better.”
He nodded as he reached forward and plucked a bit of lint off her hat brim.
“You going to ignore me again on set?”
“I didn’t—” She caught the challenge already rising in his eyes. “All right. I sort of did. But I have your phone number now, so if you sweep in with more heroic gestures, I promise to at least say thank you.” She slung her bag onto her shoulder.
He walked her out to her car. “Ah, your unique but pungent adventure-mobile.”
She reeled in faux offense. “I love my car.”
“I love my grandmother. Doesn’t mean I want to spend hours in her company, especially if cramped spaces are involved.”
Marlowe smiled at that, struggling to make her key work in the hatchback lock.
“I did try to warn you,” she said.
“Apparently we’re both rather gifted at ignoring warnings.”
“Sounds like a dangerous combination.”
“Totally lethal.” His voice came out with a dead-sexy rumble, one that made her pivot away from him so she didn’t get caught up in what was pretty clearly flirtation now. She wasn’t trying to flirt but he wasreallyhard to not flirt with.
With a shove of her hip, she got the hatch open and tossed her bag inside. Then she unlocked the car door and forced it open with a deafening creak.
“Thanks for the hospitality,” she said as she toyed with her key ring, suddenly incapable of standing still, a malady Angus appearedto share. “I’d offer to return the favor, but you won’t want to sleep on a sofa that smells like dead yak, attempt to squeeze three drops of water out of my showerhead, or limit your breakfast to dry toast. Also, my apartment is decorated with creepy owls. No one should cross the threshold. Ever.”
“I’ll pass on the owls. And the dead yak. But I don’t suppose…” He scratched at the back of his neck before jamming his hands into his pockets. “Sorry. Never mind.”
“What?” She let out a nervous laugh at his odd shift in demeanor. “Tell me.”
“It’s a dumb idea. All things considered.”
“Allwhatthings considered?”
“The media. My supposed relationship status. Propelled milkshakes.”
She eyed him sideways. “You do realize you’re only making me more curious.”
“Right. Okay. Fair point.” He slid his hands partway out of his pockets and tapped his thumbs against his weathered belt, grimacing as though he couldn’t quite force the words out. Marlowe was about to press him again when he finally spoke up. “There’s a benefit next week at the L.A. County Museum of Art. I have tickets. Tan’s going. Idi’ll be there, too, so I wouldn’t be the only person you know.”
