A Great Kisser. Donna Kauffman
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came in faster than predicted. I thought we’d be back before it blew in.”
“So…we were going to wait it out?”
“I thought it best to let you know I was here, then we’d figure it out from there.”
She’d been on the outs with her mother for months now, which was both painful and frustrating as hell, given how close they’d been B.A.—Before Arlen. And if she was being stubborn there, she felt it was well earned. But that was no excuse to take it out on her chauffeur here. He was being a Good Samaritan, doing a favor. Even if, from what she’d determined about their mayor was true, she could have told him he was likely just being used.
“So, we’re renting a car anyway. Why didn’t you just say so?”
“Because we’re not. Wait here,” he said.
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
But he’d already taken off. However, instead of going to the counter, he’d headed toward the doors leading back to the tarmac. “Don’t rent anything,” he called back, then he disappeared through the doors, and though her shortsightedness kept her from seeing clearly, she could make out him ducking down and running over to the big dome-shaped airplane hangar.
She looked at the row of seats and thought about collapsing into one of them—how nice it would be to sit in something that remained steady—but opted for a trip to the bathroom instead. Vanity might not be a driving force in her life, but she was human enough, woman enough, to at least feel the need to assess the severity of the damage and mitigate it as best as possible. After all, it was precisely because she was good at doing exactly those things that she got paid a rather handsome salary. Or had. Surely, if she could avert media probes and spin-doctor live interview slip-ups for her boss, she could do basic repair to her appearance.
One step into the small bathroom and a peek into the mirror after sliding her carefully wiped glasses back on proved that even she might not be up to this particular task. “Wow.” Up until three days ago, she had been slated to appear at a charity fund-raiser in October on Halloween. And to think she’d been worried about what she’d wear as a costume. “Zombie, risen from the dead. And—bonus!—you don’t even need a rental costume.” It was almost a shame she wouldn’t be going now.
She turned on the water out of habit, but really, it would take a team of Georgetown’s finest hairdressers-to-the-Hill to even make a dent in the mess. She ran a paper towel under the stream anyway and did her best to remove the raccoon-eye mascara streaks. There was nothing she could do about the freckle exposure because her foundation was completely gone. She’d been covering them for years. Once she learned that it was hard enough to be taken seriously as a woman, harder still as a very short woman—especially when she was actually built like one—she’d quickly figured out that looking like the “all American girl next door” only further undermined whatever advantages she might have had left. Katie Couric might be able to pull it off, but not so much with Lauren Matthews as it turned out.
Using a comb from her purse, she managed to make her hair go from drowned cat to merely wet and stringy. “Why am I bothering?” After all, given that neither her mother nor her mother’s spouse could be bothered to come to the airport to pick her up, who she was trying to impress, she had no idea.
A vision of the sun-streaked, blue-eyed Marlboro man waiting for her in the airport lobby swam through her mind. Except, he’d already seen her at her Halloween worst, so no point in even going there.
Sighing, she packed up her comb, straightened her damp jacket and slacks as best she could, and marched out of the bathroom, shoulders squared, chin high. Just because she looked like Rocky Mountain roadkill was no reason to act embarrassed.
“Feel better?”
She about half jumped out of her skin as she whirled around to find Rugged Outdoorsman Guy leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door.
She smiled ruefully, and just owned her fate. “As I’m sure you can see, nothing short of a guest appearance on Extreme Makeover is going to improve things much. I’ll feel better when I get to Cedar Springs and check into the first room that has a nice, hot shower.”
She could have sworn the pupils in his eyes flared a little bit, and her pulse fluttered accordingly. It was probably a trick of the light.
“Your chariot awaits,” he said. He swept his hand toward the doors on the opposite side of the terminal from where she’d entered.
All she saw was an aging pickup truck sporting more rust than paint. She craned her neck a little, but…that was it. “The…truck? You rented that?” She knew she was in the middle of nowhere, but she’d traveled a lot, and even in third world countries, she’d scored better conveyances than that. And it wasn’t like she needed anything fancy. But something that wasn’t held together with carbon particles a breath away from disintegrating to soot would be a start. She turned back to him with what she hoped was an optimistic smile on her face. “Why don’t you let me talk to the rental agent, see what I can do?”
“It’s not a rental. Loaner.” When she looked confused, he added, “Friend of mine. Works on planes out here.”
“Ah.” She glanced at it once again. “What about your plane? Won’t you be stuck having to drive that all the way back here?” At the risk of insulting him further, she pasted the smile on her face again as she looked back at him. “I hate to put your friend out. I really don’t mind paying for a rental.” Her gaze went back to the truck, which she feared might not survive the assault of the rain pounding down on it, much less any actual driving. “Besides, I’ll need a car once I’m in town.”
“I’ll be out here again in a few days anyway, so there’s no problem. And I’m sure Charlene won’t mind you borrowing her car when you need it while you’re in town.”
Her expression smoothed. “You’re a good friend of my mother’s?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but it’s a small town. We know each other. She seems like a nice woman. I like her.” He held up his hand to stall her. “I don’t want to get in the middle of any family stuff. I’m just here—”
“—doing a favor, I know. And I do appreciate it, I do,” she said quite sincerely. “I had already been informed they wouldn’t be able to pick me up.” She’d gotten an e-mail from Arlen’s secretary, in fact, with news of the luncheon and keynote speech. Of course, regrets had been expressed. Via the secretary. Delivered from his office-of-the-mayor e-mail address. Any contact she’d had was always so…official, where Arlen was concerned.
Okay, so the description she’d used at the time was pompous and self-important, but she was trying to be open minded here. Really she was. Maybe she’d spent too much time around blowhard politicians. Just because in all the research she’d done on him he always came across like the kind of man who smiled, kissed babies, and made promises to anyone and everyone, without a sincere bone in his body, the kind of guy who was just looking at every angle to see what was best for himself, not his constituency, didn’t mean he was a self-absorbed ass. She could be totally wrong. “But I didn’t know they’d sent someone else. I really—I didn’t want to put anyone out.”
“I’m here, you’re here,” he said, matter-of-factly, which made her wonder why exactly he was here.
Despite his claims, he really didn’t seem any more thrilled than she did. If he wasn’t a good friend, then why had he put himself out? It was a five-hour round trip. No small favor. Well, she supposed it wouldn’t have been if they’d flown as planned. Maybe it really was just an easy errand that had turned into something more complicated and time consuming because of the storm. She’d wondered if Arlen had pressured him, or called in a favor of some kind, but the man standing in front of her didn’t look easily pushed around. And it probably wasn’t that big a deal after all. Still…she couldn’t help but be curious about how they all connected.
“We should get on the road,” he said. “It’s not going to get any better