Danielle shook her head. ‘I—I…’
Her words faded and Lee swung towards her. ‘Last chance, little girl,’ he said. His voice sounded angry, almost fierce. ‘Maybe you ought to forget about Ste Agathe and get on the next plane back to the States.’
It was, she thought with sudden, terrible clarity, probably the best advice anyone had ever given her.
But instead of taking it, Danielle swung the strap of her carry-on over her shoulder. ‘Where’s your car, Mr Bradford?’ she asked with determined coolness, and without another word she followed him out into the hot Mediterranean sun.
LEE BRADFORD’S car was a low-slung, gleaming black machine that looked as if it were moving even when it was standing still. He tossed Danielle’s suitcase and carry-on into the boot, then unlocked the passenger door and gave her a casual salute.
‘Your taxi, Miss Nichols.’
Danielle looked from him to the car. The interior looked barely large enough for two. The leather bucket seats were close to the ground, which meant her legs, bare beneath her light summer dress, would probably be stuck out almost straight under the dashboard.
She turned and glanced towards the taxi stand and the long queue of travellers waiting there. Eight hundred francs, she thought. It was a lot of money, and who knew how long it would take until it was her turn? But perhaps it was worth it. Perhaps—
‘Having second thoughts, little girl?’
Laughter danced in Bradford’s voice. Danielle met his derisive glance. God, the man was insufferable! First he’d expected her to be an easy pickup; when she hadn’t been, he’d decided she was a naïve little thing—probably because his ego wouldn’t let him think otherwise.
Probably, she suddenly thought, because that was how she’d acted.
Her head came up and she forced herself to meet his smile with an aloof one of her own. ‘Not at all,’ she said calmly. ‘I was just wondering why anyone would drive a thing like this. It doesn’t look very comfortable.’
He laughed as he went around to the driver’s side and slipped behind the wheel. ‘Comfort hasn’t a thing to do with it.’
He was right, of course. It hadn’t, and Danielle knew it. The car was made for speed. But speed was impossible along the heavily trafficked roads leading from the airport. She could feel Lee’s barely contained impatience: the fingers of his left hand tapped a restive tattoo on the steering wheel while his right clenched and unclenched on the gear shifter. He changed position in his seat, easing his long legs under the dashboard, then leaned forward and pressed a button on the instrument panel. A motor whined softly, and part of the roof overhead slid back.
A luxuriant floral scent filled the car. Danielle drew a deep breath. ‘What’s that lovely smell?’ she said softly.
Bradford glanced at her, then at the road. ‘Flowers. All kinds of flowers. And herbs—rosemary, thyme, sage—Provence is like an enormous garden. Why don’t you sit back and enjoy it?’
‘I am.’
He smiled. ‘No, you’re not. You’re too busy trying to keep your skirt over your knees. I assure you, Miss Nichols, I’ve seen women with more than their legs bare.’ His teeth flashed in a quick grin. ‘You might as well relax.’
She stared at him, then looked quickly back at the road. If only she could think of some clever reply, if only she could turn his teasing jibes back on him. But she’d tried that, and it had only backfired. The best thing to do was just to keep still.
Traffic was still heavy, but Lee took advantage of every opening in the clotted flow, surging in and out of the stream of cars with quick bursts of speed. The car seemed as impatient as its driver. The engine growled like a mean thing trapped in a cage, occasionally: rising to what seemed to her ears an angry scream. Danielle glanced at Lee’s profile. He looked tense; his mouth was hard, his jaw was set with concentration.
Finally, they shot past the last automobile. His foot came down harder on the accelerator and the car leaped eagerly ahead. They were speeding along a road so narrow and winding that she could only hope they would meet no car coming in the other direction. Carefully, Danielle glanced at Lee Bradford. All his attention was on the road, but there was nothing tense about him now. He was sitting back almost lazily, his left hand lying loosely on the steering wheel, his right on the gear shifter. He looked relaxed, but she knew he was totally in command of the swift-moving car which responded to his touch, purring beneath his hand like a satisfied cat.
Or like a contented woman.
The thought came swiftly and unexpectedly. At first, she was afraid she’d spoken aloud. But another look at him assured her she hadn’t. His eyes were still on the road, and there was a look on his face that told her he was as much caught up in the pleasure of the swift-moving car as she was in thinking about him.
Danielle felt a sudden sweep of irrational anger. ‘Must you drive so fast?’ she said sharply.
He glanced at her. ‘We’re not going fast at all, Miss Nichols.’ His eyes went to the speedometer, as did hers. ‘We’ve barely hit ninety.’
Ninety! How could they have reached such speed without her even noticing? Had she left her senses behind in the States? she thought, and her irritation grew.
‘I’d appreciate it if you’d slow down, Mr Bradford.’
Lee laughed. ‘What’s the matter, little girl? Are you scared?’
‘No.’ Her voice was cool, which amazed her, because his assessment was right on target. ‘You don’t scare me, you amaze me. Why should a grown man want to risk his neck playing such foolish games?’
A muscle knotted in his jaw. ‘High-stakes games are the only ones worth playing,’ he said softly, but even as he spoke his foot eased on the pedal and the car slowed to a more respectable seventy-five. ‘But you’re right, Miss Nichols. All you signed on for was a ride to Ste Agathe, not the Grand Prix.’ They rode in silence, and then he looked at her. ‘I take it you’ve never been to the Côte d’Azur before.’
Was he going to try and make pleasant conversation? If he was, he’d end up talking to himself.
‘No,’ Danielle said, staring straight ahead.
‘Are you on vacation, then?’
‘Yes.’
He sighed. ‘And you’re going to Ste Agathe as your first stop.’
‘Yes.’
The road lifted ahead, uncoiling like a grey ribbon as it entered the mountains. Bradford down-shifted and the engine hummed softly in accord.
‘Do you have a dog?’
Despite herself, Danielle turned and stared at him. ‘What?’
‘A dog,’ he said patiently. ‘Do you have one?’
Her brows drew together. ‘No.’
Bradford shrugged. ‘A pity,’ he said softly. ‘I was going to ask if you still beat him.’
Her eyes fastened on his impassive profile. ‘If I had a dog, I’d never beat him. Besides, that’s a stupid question to ask someone. You can’t give a “yes” or a “no” answer to something like that, you have to…’ Her voice faded as he began to chuckle. Danielle glared at him for a few seconds, and then a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. ‘Touché, Mr Bradford.’
‘Lee.’ He glanced at her and smiled. ‘You might as well call me that. Ste Agathe has a population that would fit into a sardine tin. Calling me Mr Bradford is going to mark