LITMIR.BIZ

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for the phone, quickly becoming aware of how much warmer it was in the top half of the car.

      “I’ll never bitch about air-conditioning again,” he murmured as he waited for Ted to pick up.

      “What did you say?”

      He glanced at her, caught by the arrested expression on her face.

      “Air-conditioning. Usually I don’t like it—dries everything out. But I’m beginning to understand why it’s a necessary evil in a building this size.”

      She gaped at him, surprise in every line of her body.

      “That was true?” she said, something like awe in her voice.

      He frowned. What on earth was she talking about?

      “What?”

      She seemed to suddenly realize what she’d said. She shrugged, elaborately casual, dropping her eyes to avoid meeting his. “Nothing. Is Ted not answering?”

      He frowned, aware that something had just happened there. He was about to pursue it, but Ted chose that moment to pick up the phone.

      “Yes, number six?”

      “Ted, we were just wondering how things are going? Rescue team in action yet? Any news on when the power might be back?”

      “Negative on the power situation. Not expected to be up and running until O–one hundred. Rescue team is in place, and setting up. Estimated extraction time per car—half an hour to an hour.”

      Jack suppressed a smile at Ted’s military-style reporting. This was probably about as exciting as it got in Ted’s line of work.

      “Right. So, when can we expect to be, uh, extracted?”

      “Car six has only two occupants, and, as such, is a low priority at this stage,” Ted said evasively.

      “How long, Ted?” Jack insisted.

      A pause.

      “Let me check on that for you. Hold on.”

      He rolled his eyes.

      “Because I have so many other places I can be right now,” he muttered.

      “What’s he saying?” Claire asked, hope in her voice.

      “Don’t get excited,” he warned her just as Ted picked up the receiver at the other end again.

      “Best estimate is between three to five hours, Mr. Brook.”

      “Thanks, Ted. Don’t be a stranger.”

      Jack put the receiver down and turned to face Claire. She was standing now, and he saw how short she was without her high heels on. Tiny, really—she barely came up to his armpits.

      “Three hours is the minimum, I’m afraid.”

      He watched her closely, worried she might flip out again.

      “Relax, I’m not going to freak out again,” she assured him. “In fact, this little experience may have cured me for good.”

      They sank down into their opposing corners again, and he made a special effort to avoid looking at her as she settled. It didn’t stop him from imagining her thighs again, of course, but it gave him the illusion of self-control….

      Silence took over again, and he replayed the small moment before Ted had picked up the phone. What had really happened then?

      “Before, when I was talking about the air-conditioning, you said something,” he prompted, watching her face carefully.

      She was all surprise, widening her eyes innocently as she tried to remember. Pity she sucked as an actress.

      “Did I? I don’t remember,” she said.

      “Right. And you never inhaled, either.”

      His challenge hung between them for a moment, then she shrugged.

      “Fine. You want it, you got it. When you broke up with Judy Gillespie from Accounts, she told everyone about how you made her turn off her air-conditioning when you stayed the night, even though she got heat rash if it got too warm. I didn’t believe it at the time.”

      He just stared at her, his mind numbed for a moment by this revelation. She raised her eyebrows at him, obviously expecting an answer.

      “Nice to know my private life is public property,” he finally managed to say.

      She laughed, one of those short, sharp mocking laughs that women use to cut men off at the knees.

      “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he squawked. He sounded more than a little defensive, and he forced his shoulders to relax.

      “Come on. You’ve dated more than half the eligible females in the building. You think they don’t talk about you, compare notes? You think they don’t warn every new woman who joins the company?”

      Compare notes? For a moment he felt exposed and vulnerable, and then he reminded himself that he had nothing to be ashamed or worried about. He prided himself on the fact that no woman left his bed unsatisfied. If half the women’s magazine complaints he’d read over the years were true, he was doing okay.

      “Yeah? What do they say?”

      He could see his cockiness got under her skin, and he felt on firmer ground now.

      “You want the truth?” she asked, daring him.

      How tough could it be? Maybe a few complaints about him breaking up with some of them, but most of his office flings had been just that—two adults satisfying a mutual curiosity. He was confident he could handle a bit of woman-scorned bitterness.

      “Sure. Hit me.”

      Her expression should have warned him. She actually looked wary, almost as though she was afraid of what she was about to say.

      “They say that you’re fun and adventurous, but as soon as anything serious develops you run scared. Also, that you’re afraid of commitment, afraid of feelings and impossible to talk to. That even though you’re good in bed, they never really felt as if you were really there with them. That—”

      “Okay, thanks, I think I get the drift,” he cut in, holding up a hand to stem the tide.

      A profound silence settled between them as his brain whirled round and round trying to process, adjust and justify her words.

      “You did ask.”

      She actually sounded guilty.

      “Hey, don’t worry about me. I think I know enough about human nature to understand where those kind of comments come from.”

      She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t need to. After just an hour of one-on-one with her, he was becoming finely attuned to her body language. A shift of a shoulder, the sniff of her nose, and she might as well have shouted at him.

      “What? Fine, then. Where do you think those sorts of comments come from?” he demanded.

      Her eyes measured him for a moment before she answered. He fought the urge to squirm.

      “You think they’re just bitter because you broke up with them, don’t you? And you’re probably right, I’m sure that’s some of it. But there are plenty of them who aren’t bitter, just sad.”

      He couldn’t let that slide by.

      “Because I broke their hearts? Let me tell you, I am never anything but honest with women. They all know the score.”

      “They’re not sad because you rejected them, Jack. They’re sad because for a man with so much potential there’s so little on offer. Katherine told me that she’d never met a man who was more afraid of his feelings in her life. She said there was no point pursuing anything with someone who was never going to let himself go.”

      If

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