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on the dash display, and then Manny. Then Sonya again, and Sonya again, and then several names that I didn't recognize, and with each one Kent wound up tighter and tighter.
    He drove the car like a man who had a death wish, and with each rev of the engine I became more and more attuned to his mood and body. His hands on the steering wheel, his glowering blue-green eyes studying the road ahead, his thighs tightening and relaxing inside his suit pants...
    It was weird, but I hadn't yet seen him out of a suit. What kind of rock god wears suit pants as his regular attire? I had to wonder, but it didn't matter. All I could think about was how much I wanted him to take those pants off.
    I was going crazy. I'd never—ever—been so nuts about fucking a guy before. My hands fiddled with the door, brushing against the window controls on my side. There were small bits of something stuck in the small gaps between the controls and the armrest, and I started to pick at them with my thumbnail, gently prying them out of their home and letting them fall to the carpet where they would be easier to vacuum up later.
    Not that I'd been hired to be the maid of the house. But, I mean, you might as well do what you can when the opportunity presents itself.
    “You fidget a lot.”
    Kent's dark voice cut through my reverie—again. I looked up. He was watching the road, gunning the engine as he wove in and out of traffic while his jaw clenched tighter with each call that came buzzing through. He cut off each one as soon as he read the name, and I could feel him working himself into a towering rage.
    Thank god we were nearing Rose's apartment. He'd calm down once we got out. Maybe.
    As for myself, I was starting to realize that yes, this was very real. I was about to pack my things for the second time in as many weeks and move to completely different circumstances. The thought scared me a little, but also thrilled me. Leaving it all behind... that's what I'd wanted to do when I left San Diego. And now I was doing it.
    “Stop picking at my car.”
    I started and realized I'd been excavating crumbs from the door handle again. “Sorry,” I said.
    He just grunted. “What's got you all worked up?” he demanded, as if no one except for Kent Hudson could have a problem that was bothering them.
    For a brief moment I thought about telling Kent that I was just nervous about the job, but for some reason I told him the truth. “I'm a little nervous,” I said. “I'm starting a whole new life for the second time this month.”
    His brows rose at that as he cut off a semi and zipped us onto the off-ramp. “Oh?” he said. “That's right, you said you hadn't been in LA very long.”
    “Like a week,” I said. “It's hard to get an apartment in the middle of the month. No one's lease is up.”
    “There are always rooms for rent.”
    “Not any rooms Rose would let me rent. All the places I could afford are in really bad neighborhoods. Actually, forget I said that. I don't have any money, so all the places I could afford would cost me a knife fight with a hobo for rights to claim a bridge.
    Kent snorted at that. “You'd have a hell of a time living under a bridge,” he said.
    “Well, duh.”
    His mouth quirked, very slightly. “I mean, how would you keep it clean?”
    My eyes widened. A glimmer of humor? From Kent Hudson? Manny's joint must have made the rounds.
    I sniffed at him. “I'd find a way. Bleach does wonders.”
    He shook his head as he turned off onto the major street that ran past Rose's apartment building. “Rebecca,” he said, “don't you think that bleaching your bridge spot might be a bit counterproductive? Wouldn't it burn your lungs out while you slept?”
    I crossed my arms. “Better than sleeping in bird shit,” I said.
    He actually laughed. “Whatever floats your boat.” We reached Rose's apartment complex, and he wheeled the car wildly through the parking lot as I gave him directions to her building. By the time Kent