On the Loose by Shannon Hollis

Author:Shannon Hollis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2005-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

JOSH ACCELERATED around a corner, driving the black Porsche with careless, one-handed grace. At the end of the access driveway was the glass-and-steel edifice that formed part of the Santa Clara Convention Center, flanked by a couple of brand hotels. The trip down the peninsula had been uncharacteristically quiet, mostly because Lauren had no idea what to say to a man she’d met two weeks ago, had sex with and then dumped two days after that.

Besides, watching him drive was worth the price of a ticket in itself. He wasn’t a Type-A driver—thank God—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in complete control of the cushion of space around his fabulously expensive car. If this was what writing for Left Coast did for you, there was a lovely little Volvo S60 she’d had her eye on for about a year, thank you very much.

But mostly she just watched his hands on the wheel, with those long artist’s fingers. That light, masterful touch. Just the way they had operated on her body.

Now there was a memory she’d prefer to erase, considering the circumstances, but then he’d do something like flick on a turn signal or shift gears and her gaze would lock on his hands again.

It was going to be a very long afternoon. And if she didn’t get everything she needed for the story, she was for damn sure not inviting him along when she came back tomorrow. A woman could only stand so much.

They showed their credentials at the press entrance and were issued plastic-coated passes on a string.

“I hate these things.” She clipped hers to the lapel of what she called her “safari jacket,” that indispensable, go-everywhere piece of clothing that every journalist owned in one form or another. Hers was a blazer in a bronze material that looked like raw silk but would probably be found, undamaged, in a landfill two centuries from now. It had two concealed pockets and three outer ones, perfect for stashing digital camera, recorder, batteries, business cards, credit cards and a pen without looking as though you were carrying anything at all. On her feet were comfortable but stylish flats that guaranteed she’d still be walking when the show closed at six o’clock. A T-shirt and a short black jersey skirt completed the ensemble. Practical but feminine. And effective, too, from the way Josh glanced at her legs the way she had been looking at his hands.

You don’t care if he looks at your legs. You’re sucking his brain dry of everything it knows about virtual reality and moving on.

A woman in a short skirt isn’t looking for male attention, anyway. It’s a form of expression. Of freedom.

Uh-huh. A short skirt at a convention produced by geeks for a primarily male audience. Who are you trying to kid?

Good point.

Trying to make him jealous?

Go away.

The double doors swung open and the noise hit them both in the face. The show had only kicked off at noon and already the floor was packed. As she

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