“If it was up to Lindsey, she’d let all kids in for free, even a kid like that.”

“There you go again. He might be a good kid, just impulsive. A lot of people are impulsive. He’s not about to hot-wire some car and go for a joyride.”

“Give him time.”

“What is it with you pigeon-holing people you don’t even know?”

He glanced at her and was a bit taken back to see a real degree of anger in her face, even with the lights of Christmas touching the sweep of her throat as her chin lifted a bit. This was crazy. He was tired of defending himself to her. “All things being equal, I should be at my place working, and if I hadn’t been kept late waiting for…” His words trailed off and he looked back at the evening streets. “I’m not going down that road.”

“You can say it. If Brittany Lewis hadn’t kept you waiting you’d be doing something exciting like balancing figures.”

He narrowed his eyes on the road, thinking that after meeting B.J. anything would be anticlimactic. “Now I have to figure out how to tell her father she never showed. He’s not going to be a happy camper.”

“Maybe she got held up somewhere?”

“You’re probably right,” he conceded, rerouting his thoughts to something less complicated. Something very simple. “She probably got held up trying to figure out which color lipstick looks best with wedding gowns,” he said, turning toward the middle of the city.

“Why did you bring up wedding gowns?”

“I guess it’s not big news when she dumps another fiancé,” he murmured. “But being a no-show for a job that her father knocked himself out to set up for her seems pretty self-absorbed and petty. She’s probably never worked a day in her life, then her dad gives her a chance to do something productive, and she bolts. She’s probably on her way to some exotic place to lie around in the sun until the urge to work goes away. And her father’s going to feel betrayed and angry and—”

“Her father told you all of this?” she asked, cutting off his rambling dissertation.

“Not verbatim, but it’s obvious. He’s just trying to do something to salvage the situation. He’s her father, for heaven’s sake. How’s he supposed to feel? She’s put him through the wringer, and the poor guy just wants things to be okay.”

She was silent for a moment before saying, “You…you never know. Maybe she just got delayed.”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine she’d come all this way and not be busy doing something. Paris isn’t just a ‘hop over the pond,’ no matter what Europeans say about it.”

She glanced at him and found him studying her with a tight frown. “How did you know she was in Paris?”

She shrugged, looking away from him. “I must have read it somewhere, or you probably mentioned something about Paris. And…and, it just figures that she’d be on her way. I mean, what would be the point of her making her father even angrier? She has to care about him.”

“That’s up for grabs, but no matter what’s going on, she isn’t here, and with any luck she won’t show up. That would make things simpler all the way around,” he said as they drove on. “There’s so much going on, and I don’t have time to babysit.”

“And you, with your take on kids, you’d be some babysitter,” she muttered.

He shot her a look, but she was still staring out the windows, her hands pressed flat to the purse on her lap. “It wouldn’t be my idea of fun,” he said, turning away from her to look out at the early-evening streets. Then he heard himself admitting a truth he hadn’t expected to say to her. “You have this knack for getting me way off the topic and I’m not sure how you do it.”

“My father never figured it out, either,” she said. “He gets so annoyed when I—” She cut off her own words, then said, “Sorry, I’m doing it again.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he murmured, and meant it. She kept him on his toes.

“I think it’s because I was brought up to be ‘seen and not heard.’ Look pretty and be quiet. Make a good impression, but don’t ask questions.”

He glanced at her. “You’re an only child?”

“An only child brought up by my dad.”

“And you never gave him any trouble?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m no saint.”

“Well, join the crowd,” he murmured.

“You weren’t kidding about joyriding at twelve?”

“I did it from time to time.” Matt concentrated on his driving, instead of on words that were there, words that he’d never said to anyone before. Not even Zane. Yet he was on the verge of telling a woman who was almost a perfect stranger about himself as a twelve-year-old. He stopped himself before he went down that path. Enough was enough. “And we’re off the subject again.”

Gratefully, she let the subject of saints and sinners go. “You’re right. Let’s see,” she murmured as if trying to think of something to ask him. “So, the center, yes. Are you committed to making it work or are you in a wait-and-see position, and you’ll cut your losses if it fails to perform?”

He was taken aback again to hear words of “corporate speak” coming from this woman. “I guess that about sums it up.”

“I should have gone up to take a look at the original center to see how it’s decorated.”

He drove off when the light changed. “It’s done in Mother Goose sort of stuff.” He tried to think, but was having a bit of a hard time focusing when she shifted, sighing softly, and he knew she was looking right at him now. He grasped for what he could remember about the center. “The Big Bad Wolf, Three Little Kittens. Lindsey did most of the decorating herself. She did everything with the original program. And Mr. Lewis was behind her a hundred percent. I think it might have been his idea to begin with, maybe a way of making up for the shortcomings of his own parenting.”

This time there wasn’t a sigh, but a rush of air, and he knew what she was going to say before a word was uttered. So he cut her off at the pass. “Okay, okay,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I’m jumping to conclusions.”

“Amen,” she breathed.

He flashed her a look, half expecting a smile, but there wasn’t any humor there. The soft light exposed the cut of her high cheekbones, the fullness of her bottom lip and the anger in her expression. Despite that, her image stirred him. And he realized that he actually owed Brittany Lewis for not showing up, for making him late, for setting up the circumstance for him to meet B.J. But that didn’t mean he had to like the woman.

They were getting close to where B.J. lived, and he turned to concentrate on where he was going. “I suppose you want me to give Brittany Lewis the benefit of the doubt?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Even if she never shows up?”

“I’d even bet that she’ll show up.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Yes, and I’ll even bet that she’ll be sincere and willing to work.”

“Now, that’s a sucker bet,” he said. “She’ll never show up and even if she does, she’ll be more worried about color coordinating her wardrobe with her office than doing any work.”

“Do you want to make a bet?” she asked.

“How long do I have to wait tomorrow for her to show?”

“What time do you go into the office?”

“Usually around seven, but I’ve got some off-site meetings and won’t be in until ten.”

“Okay, ten it is.”

“Why are you so sure of this?” he asked, his fleeting glance finding her looking at him intently.

“Is it a bet?” she asked, matching a question for a question.

“That depends. What’s at stake?”

She shifted again, and the air stirred slightly in the car, carrying that flowery scent with it to brush his skin. Then she spoke and shocked him, something she’d seemed able to do with ease ever since they’d collided in the empty rooms of the center. “For you, an apology to Brittany Lewis.”

He slowed, but for no other reason than shock as he looked at her. “What?”

“An apology, as in, ‘I’m sorry I thought what I did of you,’ or something like that. You can write your own lines.”