The Marriage Machine

  Chapter Two

  After putting in a full day at work, Elspeth arrived home just after six that evening. The single lamp in the center of the square cast an eerie glow in the fog but failed to reach her aunt’s doorstep. Exhausted, Elspeth pushed open the foyer door, pulled off her boots and stowed her backpack in the corner. All she wanted was a bowl of soup and her bed. But just as she reached for the door to the parlor, someone opened it and flooded her with light.

  “Happy birthday!” two voices called in unison. Her aunt and cousin clapped, delighted with themselves for having caught her by surprise.

  Elspeth had completely forgotten about her birthday. Technically, it had occurred yesterday, December 18th, but she’d been too busy fixing the Marriage Machine to celebrate.

  “We were so worried you’d have to work overtime again,” her aunt pulled her toward the settee table where a small white cake sat on a platter. “And that the cake would go bad.”

  “You could have eaten it without me,” Elspeth said. But she was glad they hadn’t. Her mouth watered at the sight of the uncommon treat.

  “Never,” her aunt retorted. “It’s your twenty-fifth birthday, Elspeth. A very special birthday for a woman. We’d never have eaten the cake without you. Now sit down and relax for once.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Fi.” Elspeth had to admit that sitting down felt like the best birthday present of all. “It’s been quite a couple of days.” She sank down onto the worn cushions of the sofa.

  “But you did manage to fix the problem, dear?” her aunt asked, even though she never quite grasped what Elspeth did for a living. Aunt Fi handed her a piece of cake on a chipped plate.

  “I certainly did.” Elspeth answered.

  “That’s good to hear. But as I have said before, you should speak to your boss. He makes you work too hard.”

  “It can’t be helped, Aunt Fi. It’s the nature of my job. Londo City would collapse without the SteamWizards.”

  “Never mind your dreary old job, El.” Amelie sat down with her baby on her knee. Her ponderous breasts had increased geometrically since the birth of her child, and they docked on either side of Benjamin’s shoulders like twin dirigibles. “What I am dying to know is if you got one.”

  “One what?” Elspeth savored a soft bite of cake. Sugar was so scarce, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything sweet.

  “An envelope. The envelope.”

  Elspeth reached into her blouse, pulled out the now-tattered envelope and tossed it on the table.

  “I knew it!” Amelie grinned. “I knew you’d be chosen.”

  Aunt Fi was more perceptive. She sat down across from Elspeth, her slice of cake all but forgotten. “But you aren’t pleased, Elspeth. What’s wrong?”

  “Everything! I fail to see what’s so wonderful about being forced to marry a complete stranger and never having another independent thought for the rest of your life.”

  “It’s not what you think,” Amelie kissed the downy head of her child. “In fact it’s changed my life in ways I never imagined.”

  It had changed Amelie all right. Amelie used to write and draw in her spare time. But a few minutes in the Marriage Machine had dried up her cousin’s creative juices. She hadn’t written a line since her marriage.

  Nothing could be done about it now, so there was no use mentioning the fact to Amelie. Instead, Elspeth gave her a smile. “It’s fine for women like you, Amelie. You were meant to be a wife and a mother. But we all know that I would be miserable in that kind of life.”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t,” her aunt reached over and patted her wrist. “It’s what a woman was born to do, Elspeth—bear children and raise the next generation. It’s important work. And not everyone gets the opportunity. It’s quite an honor, you know. You shouldn’t take it lightly.”

  “What’s your date?” Amelie asked.

  “I have no idea.” Elspeth put down her plate. She’d lost her appetite for cake and for celebrating. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

  “You haven’t opened your envelope?” Amelie swooped down and grabbed it. “I can’t believe you, El, I really can’t.”

  Elspeth sighed. “Why would I want to know the date of my last day of freedom?”

  “Oh, El! You have to grow up some day.” Amelie shook her head as she ripped the silver paper and drew out a card. Her face went white. “Oh, my!”

  “What?” Aunt Fi blurted, a piece of cake balanced precariously on her fork.

  Even Elspeth’s curiosity was piqued. She glanced at her cousin.

  “You’ve got a holiday date.” Amelie looked back down at the engraved card. “December 25th in fact. C-Day. Oh, my word, Elspeth!” She fluttered a plump hand in front of her face, as if she were overheating with the news.

  Elspeth stared at her cousin, completely baffled by Amelie’s excitement. She knew all there was to know about pistons and valves, but she was completely ignorant when it came to the social aspects of life. She had no idea why a C-Day wedding was significant. “And that means?”

  “Only the loftiest citizens are married on C-Day. The date is in such demand and so auspicious for a good marriage that only the upper crust is married then. Your groom must be an Overseer agent or at least a commissioner.” Amelie’s eyes gleamed. “You are so lucky! You won’t have to work the rest of your life—I’ll bet on it!”

  Not working sounded like a prison sentence. Elspeth jumped to her feet. “Too bad you’re going to lose that wager. I’m not going through with the ceremony.”

  “What?” her aunt sat back in her chair, appalled.

  “I am warning you, Aunt Fi, I’m not going to go through with it.”

  “But you can’t refuse. It’s unheard of.” Aunt Fi fluttered her hand in front of her face just as her daughter was doing.

  “I’m going to be the first woman to say no.”

  “El!” Amelie gasped. “You can’t do such a thing.”

  “I mean no disrespect to either of you or the lives you lead. In fact, I will never be able to repay the kindness you showed me by taking me in after Father died.”

  “We couldn’t have done any less,” Aunt Fi replied.

  “But that machine does something to a woman’s mind.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It allows a woman to conceive.” Amelie hugged her son. “I wouldn’t have Benjamin without the Marriage Machine. And I can’t imagine not having him.”

  “Well I can’t imagine marrying a stranger. And I won’t have some man thinking he can tell me how to live my life.”

  Amelie paled and looked away.

  Elspeth wouldn’t let her turn away as she had done so many times since her marriage. She stepped directly in front of her cousin. “I am referring to your job, Amelie. You loved that job. You loved working at the newspaper. Tell me you didn’t.”

  “My child is more important than any job.”

  “And who decided that?” Elspeth demanded. She planted her fists on her hips and leaned down to confront Amelie face-to-face. “You or Edward?”

  “We both did,” Amelie stammered. “At least, I’m pretty sure we discussed it.” Her voice trailed off.

  “Don’t remember?” Elspeth chided.

  “Not exactly, but—“

  “That’s just my point!” Elspeth crossed her arms over her chest. “The machine does that to a woman. I bet you hardly argued your case with Edward—if at all.”

  “Elspeth, please,” her aunt put in. “Let her be. It’s for the best having her home with the baby. And it’s your birthday. Let’s just get along for once, shall we?”

  Elspeth sighed and plopped back down on the couch.

  Aunt Fi patted her hand again. “Please, Elspeth, don’t do anything rash. Please think this through, dear.”

  “I have thought of little else for the past year, Aunt Fi. Believe me.”

  “What will you do?” Amelie had gone very pale.

  Elspeth shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. But there’s one thing I kn
ow I won’t be doing and that is showing up at,” she grabbed the card and glanced at the silver script. “Boswellian Bower on December 25 at 4 o’clock.”

  “You’ll be ruined,” Aunt Fi put in.

  “They might even send you away,” Amelie added. “What if you had to work in the coal mines in Norsea for the rest of your life? We would never see you again.”

  “It would be better than spreading my legs for some weasel who thinks he owns me for the rest of my life.”

  “Elspeth, really!”

  “Sorry, Aunt Fi. But that’s how I see it. Thanks for the cake.” Elspeth hurried from the parlor and ran up the narrow stairs to her tiny bedchamber under the roof. She had to get away from people who would never understand her. And that might possibly be the entire population of Londo City.

  Solitude was not to be hers, however. Before Elspeth could strip off her work clothes, she heard a loud banging at the front door and insistent voices down below. Elspeth froze.

  “Elspeth?” Her aunt called from the bottom of the stairs. She could hear alarm in her aunt’s voice.

  Panic streaked through Elspeth. She had planned to run away a few days before the ceremony and lose herself in the Outskirts. But they had come for her sooner than she had anticipated, and there was no way to escape from her bedroom—certainly not from the tiny first story window behind her. She had no choice but to face whomever it was in the parlor. Swallowing hard, Elspeth trudged down the steps.

  Two officers of the law stood in the parlor with lamplight glinting off the metal buttons of their uniforms and the handles of their enforcement clubs. As she gained the last stair, they turned in her direction.

  “Elspeth Shutterhouse?” The taller one barked.

  “Yes?”

  “You are under arrest.”

  “What?” Aunt Fi’s hands flew to her cheeks in shock.

  Elspeth couldn’t believe it, either. How could anyone have discovered what she had done in so short a time?

  “On what charge?” she demanded.

  The officer’s handlebar mustache curled close to his nose as he shot her a look of disdain. “You have been accused by an upstanding citizen of committing a crime.”

  “What kind of crime?”

  “Theft and transport of unlawful goods.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elspeth feigned cool ignorance while she burned like a brand on the inside. There was only one person in the world that could have possibly turned her in to the authorities: that bastard Ramsay.

  “Don’t make it worse for yourself, citizen, by feigning ignorance.” The officer looped a restraining cord around her wrists. “You were seen burying stolen property in broad daylight.”

  “You must be mistaken,” Aunt Fi cried. “Elspeth would never steal.”

  “You can’t take her!” Amelie put in. “It’s her birthday!”

  “I suggest you hire an advocate, madame.” The officer glared at Aunt Fi. “That is, if you haven’t spent your entire fortune on cake.” He yanked Elspeth toward the door.

  “Elspeth!” Aunt Fi cried. Tears burst from her eyes as she lunged for her niece. But the officers wouldn’t allow the women to hug each other good-bye. Elspeth took a good long look at her family, knowing she might never see them again. Remorse washed over her. She had expected to pay a price for her rash actions, but it had never occurred to her to consider how her decision might devastate her aunt.

  That was the worst of it—watching her beloved Aunt Fi fall to the floor in a dead faint, and not being able to help her. While Amelie blubbered and Benjamin wailed, the officers jostled Elspeth out of the house, shoved her into the back of their chugger wagon, and took her to the station a mile away.

  Elspeth spent another night huddled on a hard surface, this time on a bench in a detention cell. She was too worried about the future to sleep, and jumped to her feet the moment she spotted a warden walking her way down the dark corridor. She had no idea how long she’d been held. Her father’s pocket watch had been taken from her, and there were no windows in the cellblock to allow her to gauge the passage of time.

  The warden didn’t even look at her as he turned a key in the lock and pulled at the barred door. It opened with a screech. He motioned for her to exit.

  “Where am I going?” she demanded. Her legs were stiff and her head throbbed from lack of sleep, but she ignored the pain.

  “To collect your belongings.” He swung the door shut. “And after that, I don’t much care.”

  She studied his florid face and bushy sideburns. “I’m getting back my things?”

  “You’re being released, citizen. Charges have been dropped.”

  “What?”

  “I’d quit asking questions if I were you.”

  She was being released? Elspeth could hardly believe her luck. Suspicious, she followed the warden to a small chamber where a woman pushed a wire basket toward her. There she found her watch, her tablet, and her mother’s ring. She shoved them back to their rightful places, worried all the while that someone would shout out that there had been a mistake, and that she should be returned to her cell.

  Luckily, no such call was made. Minutes later, she burst out of the detention compound and into the bleak morning light. Cold air hit her like a wall. With the cold front had come a strange clarity in the atmosphere. She could see details three blocks ahead of her. And was that the moon in the distance? For a moment, Elspeth paused to gawk at the muddy-looking orb hanging over the rooftops. She had never seen the moon.

  But Elspeth couldn’t waste any time staring at the scenery. She hugged her arms and hurried toward her aunt’s house, hoping she could get there before she froze to death. The WeatherWizards had predicted snow by the end of the week. But it hadn’t snowed for over a hundred years, so she suspected the promised miracle would not occur this week either.

  She prayed the weather would return to its normal foggy blandness. Cold like this would complicate the life of someone who might have to sleep on the streets for a few nights. And that would be her. She planned to say good-bye to her aunt, pack a bag, and leave Londo City before the police showed up again, as she knew they would.

  A block from Aunt Fi’s, she noticed a Flying Horse turn a corner and head her way, its vapor cloud billowing around it in the frigid air. Fearful of who might be in the vehicle, Elspeth increased her pace to just under a run.

  The vehicle whisked up beside her. She kept walking and looked straight ahead, even though she had never seen a Flying Horse up close. She could see it was designed to look like a horse from a carousel, fashioned of polished black wood and chrome. She would love to study it more thoroughly—especially the motor, but getting home and away was her priority. One block more, and she would be back at Aunt Fi’s.

  The driver must have read her thoughts, for the vehicle swerved abruptly to hover over the walkway and block her path. She dashed to the left. The vehicle countered the movement, turning with ease on its cushion of air. She cursed at the new technology that allowed such agility. No doubt the agents of the Overseers would be driving such vehicles soon, and there would be no chance of escape for people like her—on land or in the air.

  A window opened. “Shutterhouse!” a voice called. “Get in.”

  Get in? The driver must think she was an idiot. She dashed around the floating car.

  “I got you out of jail,” the deep voice boomed. “Spare me a moment.”

  Elspeth recognized that voice. She skidded to a halt and glared over her shoulder. Captain Mark Ramsay had climbed out of his vehicle and was peering through the vapor cloud at her, his blue eyes and black hair unmistakable even in the fog.

  “Get in!” he ordered. “It’s freezing out here.”

  “Not on your life, Ramsay!”

  “I can have you re-arrested.”

  She shuddered.

  “I know about the ruby,” he added. “I had you followed.”

  “So you were the one who turned me in. I knew it!”
br />   “No, I was the one who got you out. Some loyal citizen turned you in.”

  She frowned. It didn’t matter who had turned her in to the authorities. It only mattered that she had failed. The risk she had taken to disable the Marriage Machine had all been for nothing. No doubt Ramsay could have her arrested for the crime. Unlike the rest of the citizens in Londo City, the Ramsays could go where they liked and do what they wished, a privilege they enjoyed for having saved civilization from extinction hundreds of years ago. She was forced to hear Mark Ramsay out or face the consequences.

  He raised a black eyebrow and opened the passenger door.

  Chin in the air, Elspeth slipped onto the seat of the Flying Horse while Ramsay gently closed the door beside her. She put her elbow on the tufted armrest and tried not to gape at the knobs and gauges that surrounded the steering arc of the Flying Horse. Ramsay settled into the driver’s seat and glanced down at her.

  “Your jaw has dropped,” he commented with a droll smile.

  Elspeth snapped shut her mouth and flushed.

  “So you like my new toy?” he queried.

  “It’s okay. But I don’t have all day. This better be quick.”

  “I have a job for you.”

  It was her turn to stare at him. “A job?”

  He nodded as he guided his craft into the street.

  “I’m taking you somewhere we can talk in private, and you can freshen up. Don’t panic.”

  He drove southward, toward the river, and didn’t say another word. Elspeth couldn’t help but marvel at the smoothness of the ride and Ramsay’s mastery of the vehicle. She felt as if she were zipping along on a cloud—a nice warm cloud with a glove-soft interior.

  They whizzed through the streets as the city awakened. Lamps turned on in apartments. A newspaper boy trotted by with his bag. Men hurried to their factory jobs while street vendors opened the shutters of their stalls.

  As Elspeth’s frozen extremities warmed, she became more aware of the man who sat beside her—and far too close for her liking. But for a small gear housing, his left thigh would be touching hers. His thigh was long and muscular, his knee twice the size of her own. She shifted her leg to the side to avoid him as much as possible. Then she became aware of his large hands and long fingers, which seemed perfectly suited to working the controls of the craft.

  As their bodies heated the air in the Flying Horse, she noticed how wonderful he smelled—as if he had bathed but moments before and had dusted himself with a refreshing powder laced with lime. He smelled so good that she had a wild compulsion to bury her face in the small of his neck and suck in a deep breath of him. The collar of his shirt, bleached to a blazing white, grazed the sharp line of his prominent jaw. His skin was smooth and tan and shaved to perfection. She almost reached out to touch him, to make sure he was real.

  Shaken by her reaction to him, Elspeth glanced at his sharp profile. The first time she’d seen him, she had pegged him as conventionally handsome. But upon closer inspection, she realized that there might be more to Mark Ramsay than good looks and intoxicating cologne. There was something in his blue eyes—mental agility perhaps. Or cunning. She wasn’t sure which.

  He must have felt her staring at him. He shot her a questioning glance that made her flush all over again.

  When he quirked his wide mouth like that, and flashed his white teeth at the side, her head flooded with a vision of her pressing kisses on his undeniably masculine lips. She had never seen such perfect teeth. Most people she knew had crooked discolored teeth from the lack of health care and proper diet.

  “Yes?” he purred.

  “Nothing.”

  Elspeth shook herself back to reality. What was she thinking? Mark Ramsay smelled heavenly. She hadn’t bathed for three days. He was practically a nobleman in their socialist society. She was an impoverished mechanic. Worse, she was this man’s prisoner. The sooner she got away from him, the better.

  Captain Ramsay transported her to a redbrick townhouse tucked away on a quiet street that overlooked one of the few greenbelts left in the city. After the Modification Program undertaken centuries ago, when all buildings containing toxic material and electrical components were razed, only those structures built before 1880 were allowed to remain standing. So now, across from the townhouse, was a greenbelt where Scotland Yard, the once revered police unit, had operated. That police force was long gone, leaving the park as its tongue-in-cheek namesake. Scotland Yard ran all the way from this block to the Thames, and only the very rich lived along its border.

  Ramsay parked the Flying Horse in a space beneath the house, and motioned for her to follow him up the stone stairs that led to an interior door.

  “I can procure a chaperone if you like,” he said, holding open the door for her. “My neighbor is always keen to make pocket change.”

  “I don’t need a chaperone.”

  “Do you not?”

  “I will never undergo a premarital inspection. So no.”

  He nodded, as if he took it for granted that a woman like her would never be selected for marriage. His reaction insulted her, and she was about to retort that she’d received a coveted silver envelope—thank you very much. But good sense muffled the words before she uttered them. Besides, it was considered impolite to discuss a person’s upcoming nuptials with a stranger. Not everyone was “lucky” enough to be selected. A lot of people got passed over.

  Elspeth swept into the townhouse. She expected to enter a lavish interior of velvet drapery and lush woven carpets. Instead the décor was comprised of simple black wood furniture, white upholstery, and gray walls—a plain but not unpleasant arrangement. A single painting hung over the ancient unused fireplace. Elspeth looked up at the portrait of a man in an old-fashioned suit and was struck by his blazing blue eyes framed by prominent dark brows and black hair. He wore a critical, penetrating expression that bore down upon her.

  “My great-grandfather,” Ramsay commented behind her. His cologne settled over her in a seductive cloud. “Alexander Ramsay.”

  “I see a resemblance.”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  “He looks as if he was a stern man.”

  “Times were dire when he sat for that portrait. Everyone was stern.” He touched her elbow. “Come. Bathe yourself, eat, and then we will talk.”

  Elspeth pulled back. “What’s there to talk about? And why me?”

  “I need someone who knows their way around that machine.” His lip curled. “Don’t take it personally.”

  “I don’t intend to.” She glanced back at the stern visage of Alexander Ramsay.

  The sight of Mark’s relative reminded her of her own family. “Is there a way to get a message to my aunt?” she asked. “To let her know that I am all right, and where I’m at?”

  “I will take care of it.”

  She had to trust him to do as she asked. She was powerless to do anything else. Like he had said, he could have her re-arrested in an instant. She decided not to argue with his agenda either. A bath and a decent meal would restore her. After she’d eaten, she would escape.

  Elspeth followed Ramsay up a grand staircase to the first floor. He ushered her into a chilly bedchamber that was larger than her aunt’s entire house. Before she could tell him that she could manage on her own, he started a bath and then fetched a small box from a closet. She watched, curious, as he wound a key in the back and set the box near the tub. It whirred, issuing a wave of hot air.

  “Whatever is that?” Elspeth gasped, ambling closer and holding out her cold hands.

  “Something I’ve been working on.” He watched her bask in the glow of the small heater. “It’s damnable cold in these windowless Londo houses.”

  “These windowless houses saved us from the radiation cloud.”

  But thoughts of the past dissipated as she studied the box he’d produced. Surely, she was looking at the future.

  Fascinated, she glanced up at him. “How can it be so small and
yet create so much heat?”

  “It’s based on the same technology as the Flying Horse.”

  “Bacteria biofuel?”

  “Yes, but in a more compressed form.” He walked to the tub. “In small cartridges. It costs next to nothing to run.”

  Elspeth stared at the contraption. “You developed this?” she murmured.

  “Surprised?”

  She was. Mr. Big was becoming an even bigger enigma the more she got to know him. “Have you passed this by the Energy Board?”

  “It’s still in the testing stage.” He shut off the water. “Besides, do you really think they’d ever let such a cheap source of heat hit the market?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s my theory,” he handed her a towel, “that the Overseers maintain their hold over Londo City by keeping the citizens cold and hungry. When a man’s hungry, he thinks of nothing but his next meal.”

  Elspeth nearly dropped the towel. “You could be sent to the camps for saying that.”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought the very same thing.”

  She met his serious gaze. For a long moment, all she could hear was the whir of the little heating unit and the thud of her heart as she stared up into his clear and—what she was beginning to suspect were—highly-intelligent eyes.

  For a moment she thought of sharing her disdain of the Overseers and their reactionary ways. She wanted to. But blabbing about her rebellious political views was far too dangerous, especially with a Ramsay.

  “Am I not right, Shutterhouse?” he prodded.

  He was obviously fishing for information, probably to use against her in the future. That’s what the privileged few did to keep their distance from the rabble of Londo City. They took what they liked, when they liked, and then turned their backs on their inferiors with no repercussions whatsoever, as long as they didn’t violate the Edicts of Conduct set forth by the Overseers. But not many edicts pertained to the protection of the rabble, so in effect, the tiny plutocracy of Londo had free rein.

  Elspeth was sure the Overseers saw the citizens of Londo as an expendable commodity, much like a herd of cattle. Their low opinion of common man infuriated her. Sure, there were many people who plodded through their lives and had no ambition beyond getting to the next day. But there were plenty of young people like herself who yearned for a better life and a say in how the city was run. There had to be a better way for people and more freedom of choice. She wasn’t a cow. She wasn’t part of a herd, and she wasn’t going to be poked and prodded until she did what the Overseers wanted, especially when it came to her future.

  There had been a time when the Overseers were needed. They had been angels of mercy, a handful of men who possessed great wisdom and resources. They had saved the human race from extinction after a nuclear accident—the Grave Mistake—had sparked a planetary war. Entire countries had been wiped out in the vicious battles that had followed the accident, and it was surmised that most of the people who survived the initial bombings died in the endless nuclear winter that followed.

  But no one really knew how many humans had survived. No one in the Anglo Territories had heard from the rest of the world in over five hundred years.

  After the war and ensuing chaos, a military state was needed and a socialist government required just to survive. As a safeguard against future disasters, the Overseers decreed that anything considered a threat to peace should be demolished. Entire neighborhoods were razed. All manufactured components and technological developments built after the year 1880 were destroyed. The use of electricity was outlawed. Only natural power—steam power—was allowed. Anything else was considered dangerous, with too great a potential for repeating the events that had almost destroyed the earth.

  The lesson learned from the Grave Mistake was that human beings could not master the technology they developed. So the Overseers set the clock back to the machinery and mores of the 1880s, and there the Anglo Territories remained.

  So far, their plan had worked. In fact, in the last ten years, the birth rate had actually begun to climb. Food was not rationed quite so strictly. The weather was beginning to change. And that’s why Elspeth was determined to make a stand. A new day was dawning. It was time someone convinced the Overseers to take a step back.

  The trouble was, the Overseers were unapproachable, and for all intents and purposes, invisible. They lived in a well-guarded compound that had once been known as Buckingham Palace and were never seen coming or going. It was impossible to get an audience with an Overseer as well. There were numerous administrative levels to get through just to lodge a simple complaint or request. No one had ever made it all the way to the top.

  Elspeth frowned.

  “What I think won’t change the world,” she finally replied. “And might only get me in trouble.”

  “Not with me.”

  “And why should I trust you?”

  “I’m beginning to suspect we might have many similarities.”

  For a moment, she glanced back up to his face. He gazed down at her, his navy eyes dark with smoldering intensity. The way he looked at her made her feel as if his every thought was focused on her reply and that he might actually be interested in her views. In that moment, she felt more power over a man than she had known in all her twenty-five years. But such power was fleeting. If he could turn on his charm like that, he could turn it off just as quickly. His interest in her was probably just an act.

  “Sorry, I keep my thoughts to myself,” she quipped, “And I work alone.” She headed for the bath before he could say anything more.

  Still, his charm had wormed its way through her defenses, enough to set her heart banging against her ribs. Then and there she made a vow that she would never again let her guard down when in the man’s company.