She liked schedules. She did well with agendas and plans and structure. Today, though, there were so many stops and starts, usually involving tender kisses and less-than-innocent touches, that it took them forever to get out of the house. She couldn’t have cared less. Every touch made it worth the hours it took them to get to her car and head toward the waterfront. He was so far away from her regular world, she didn’t even think about Preservations or the mole or the big meeting in just a few days.He’d quickly passed with a gruff, “No thanks,” when she offered to take him back to Bathtub Gin to pick up his car. Pressing had seemed silly, but part of her was suddenly curious about what the kind of car he drove. It didn’t matter to her one bit, but it clearly mattered to him. The realization made her want to push the issue, to find out what bothered him about his car. It was obvious he was cautious with money. Was it because he had to be? Did he get the impression money mattered to her?
