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train.
    “You’ll never get a cab. It’s the holidays—a Friday night. No way. Hey, I’ll tell you what. I’ll drive you home. What d’ya say? It’s the least I can do.”
    “That’s not necessary,” she replied, almost stammering.
    “Sure it is. I’ll drive you home. It’s no big deal. Besides,” he added, “I’m your boss. I should take care of my employees, right?”
    She didn’t have time to respond. The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor and a tall man, conservatively dressed in a long navy wool coat, stepped inside. The elevator seemed to shrink in size and Charlotte, mesmerized, grew acutely aware of everything about him. She stole a quick glance.
    He had the most beautiful skin, she thought. The rich color of terra cotta. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and he had a strong Mayan nose that gave him a distinguished, even stern appearance. Although his thick black hair was fringed along his starched white collar, it was so neatly cut that it was clear the length was by choice, not neglect. Most arresting of all, he bore the indefinable manner of a gentleman, which always set a woman at ease, knowing she had nothing to fear. The scent of sandalwood cut through the stale air of the small compartment.
    As they descended, he stood with his dark, long, unadorned fingers clasped before him. In contrast, Lou fingered coins in his pocket. When they reached the lobby and the doors slid open again, the tall man stepped forward and paused to hold the door for her in an age-old gesture of chivalry. Charlotte, flattered, moved forward. Suddenly she felt Lou Kopp’s hand on her arm. She paused awkwardly. The stranger’s dark eyes flashed to meet Charlotte’s, then flicked to Lou’s hand on her arm before quickly snapping back to her, his brows knitted in question.
    “Did you want to get out?” he asked. His voice was low and polite, yet she heard in the undercurrent the clear indication that he would help her if she needed it.
    “I said I’ll drive you home.” Lou’s voice sounded insistent, and she felt his grip tighten on her arm. He was her boss and Charlotte responded instantly to the authority in his voice.
    “Thank you,” she said to the stranger. “I’m fine.”
    The man’s gaze probed like an eagle’s, then without another word, he nodded politely and stepped aside, allowing the doors to hum shut between them.
    “Lousy spic,” muttered Lou. “What did he think he was doing?”
    Being a gentleman, Charlotte thought to herself as she dropped her gaze to her shoes. She felt suddenly and inexplicably lonely.
    Lou Kopp and Charlotte rode down the one floor to the garage in silence. Neither did they speak as she followed him along the freezing ramp of the dimly lit, deserted garage. The cement walls were dingy and smeared with graffiti, and the frigid air was heavy with the acrid smell of gasoline. At last they reached a large gray Oldsmobile parked in the corner. He opened the doors and slid into the front seat. Charlotte followed suit.
    Lou fired the engine but it coughed, chugged and stalled in the bitter cold. “Damn, but it’s cold. Can’t barely touch the metal.”
    Charlotte didn’t respond but curled her chilled toes in her shoes.
    Finally the engine turned over, sputtering unevenly and rocking the car like an old beast of burden roused from its hibernation. “Good ol’ American car,” Lou said with a gleam of triumph while rubbing his hands vigorously. Long streams of vapor flowed from his lips and the scent of stale brandy hung heavily in the air. Charlotte ducked her nose into her collar and tucked her icy fingers under her arms. Tonight was one of those arctic Chicago nights that froze the hair in one’s nostrils.
    “Yep. Cold tonight,” he repeated, glancing her way with a spark in his eyes. “Wind chill brings it below zero.”
    “Feels like it,” she responded shyly, shivering in the darkness. The lights from the garage were dim and made their skin