"Not for much longer."
Niamh unbuckled her seatbelt, and Jonathan did the same.
That simple movement made Niamh's already-tense body go rigid.
"What are you so afraid of?"
Out of nowhere, Jonathan leaned over, bracing himself against the passenger door.
He boxed Niamh in, trapping her between the seat and his arm. She held her breath.
"Are you scared of me?"
Jonathan's lips curled into a slight, dangerous smile. His eyes, fixed on hers, sparkled like stars in a midnight sky.
Niamh's heart pounded even harder.
"Afraid I'll touch you?"
Catching the panic in her eyes, Jonathan gave a soft, amused chuckle and finally backed off. He pulled out his phone.
"Prescott, are you here?"
Niamh could just make out Prescott's voice on the other end.
"I'm here, just behind Miss Rivers' car."
"Good."
Jonathan ended the call and turned to Niamh. "I can't exactly drive your car back, can I?"
So, he'd unbuckled his seatbelt just to get out and head to his own car—not for any of the things she'd imagined.
Niamh's cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
Not only had Jonathan guessed exactly what was on her mind, she'd completely misread his intentions.
Bathed in Jonathan's mocking gaze, she could almost hear him saying:
"You overestimate your own appeal."
They both got out of the car at the same time—Jonathan heading to the back, Niamh to the front.
As they passed each other, Jonathan's low, magnetic voice drifted past her ear like a cool breeze on a summer night.
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