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He decided he was kindly disposed toward Marianne. "She any good?"
"Yes, very. One day galleries are going to be cutting their throats to
get her paintings. She used to do the most incredible caricatures of
the nuns." She glanced over, noting his frown.
"What is it?"
"Probably just rookie-cop instincts on overtime. See that sedan, just
behind us?"
She glanced over her shoulder. "Yes. So?"
"It's been behind us since we picked up the burgers." He switched lanes.
The sedan followed suit. "I'd say he was tailing us, if he wasn't so
stupid about it."
She let out a long, tired sigh. "It's probably Sweeney."
"Sweeney?"
"Bodyguard. He always finds me. Sometimes I think Dad planted a homing
device under my skin."
"Yeah, it could be. I guess it makes sense." But he didn't care to be
shadowed, so amaturely shadowed, on what he considered his first date
with a longtime crush. "I could lose him."
Emma tilted down her gla.s.ses. Behind them her eyes glinted with the
first real laughter he'd seen in her. "Really?"
"I could give it my best shot. This little baby's bound to leave him in
the dust,"
"Do it," she said, and grinned. Delighted, Michael punched the gas, cut
off a station wagon, and
peeled up to eighty. "We used to race on the freeway-in my callow and
misspent youth." He swerved again, dodging between a pickup and a BMW,
then with a twist of the wrist shot in front of a Caddy and let the
Mercedes cruise at ninety.
"You're good." Laughing, Emma twisted in her seat and peered at the
traffic. "I can't see him."
"He's back there, trying to get around the Caddy. I p.i.s.sed the Caddy
off so he's hogging the road. Hang on." He swerved, spun, and jockeyed,
then raced off an exit. One illegal U-turn, and the Mercedes's powerful
engine, and he was back on the freeway, heading in the opposite
direction. They whizzed by the sedan, slowed to a decorous speed and
sailed calmly down another ramp.
"Really good at it," Emma said again. "Did they teach you that at the
police academy?"
"Some skills you're born with." He stopped, then stroked the steering
wheel. "What a honey."
Emma leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thanks. Again." Before he
could respond, she had s.n.a.t.c.hed up the bag of burgers and was racing
toward the sand.
"I love this!" Still laughing, she spun in a circle. "I really love the
water, the smell of it, the sound of it. If they could just plop an
ocean down next to Broadway I'd be in heaven."
He wanted to take hold of her then, to grab her in mid-spin and find out
if she tasted nearly as good as she looked. Then she dropped down on
the sand and dug into the bag.
"These smell great, too." She held one up before she realized he was