for insulting her. But he didn’t think so.
There was something sincere about her.
So Drew sucked in bed and couldn’t kiss. How could he be an
affluent, playboy Air witch if he had no money, couldn’t kiss and was currently
marked as a rogue witch?
He couldn’t.
Everything that defined him had been stripped away in a
single day.
Drew rolled onto his side. Tomorrow he would start anew.
He’d find a way to get the seven hundred dollars Erica needed for a tow.
Most of all, he’d show everyone how wrong they were about
him.
Chapter Four
Erica stood, silently seething,
in the office at quarter to seven. The pizza crusts hadn’t been touched. Three
Coke cans lay discarded on the counter beside the computer. And a stained paper
towel was draped over the keyboard. Luckily the stain was from red sauce rather
than what it could have been.
Clearly Drew’s idea of cleaning up and hers differed
greatly.
A sleepless night following the frustrating day and evening
meant Erica was in no mood to babysit a grown adult at her day job. She stomped
through the garage, past the slightly charred Ferrari and burst into the
backroom with the intention of starting a scene.
Drew lay sprawled on the cot, nude except for a gray
blanket. The thin fabric coiled around one golden thigh, provocatively hiding
what he’d no doubt consider his pride and joy. Her protests lodged in her
suddenly dry throat.
He’d been gorgeous in his seersucker suit. Without it… He
was so out of her league.
Erica slowly backed toward the door and hoped against hope
he hadn’t heard her smacking the metal or the subsequent doorknob crashing into
the wall. His next breath was uncharacteristically long. And then his head came
up. She froze with her hand on the wall.
“Whu?” he mumbled in a way that shouldn’t have been
endearing but somehow was. Drew rubbed at his eyes with his fists. A yawn
elongated his mouth.
Erica took another step back.
He dropped his arms to his sides. The motion threatened to
drag the blanket aside. She forced herself to make it the rest of the way out
before she saw any more.
“Oh. Mornin’, babe.”
Erica halted midstride.
Babe? Babe? He’d called each and every one of the
women he’d phoned yesterday babe . And now he was calling her that.
She stomped back into the room, no longer affected by his
sleep-tousled hair and sloppy smile. “I’m not your babe . I asked you to
do one damn thing in exchange for sleeping on my cot—to clean up the pizza
crusts. You made the mess bigger!”
Drew stared at her uncomprehendingly for several seconds.
When his mute reaction continued, Erica’s disappointment turned inward.
What had she been thinking last night? Thank god she’d gone
home instead of coming here like she’d considered every time she tossed
alone on her bed.
“I didn’t expect you yet,” he said with a boyish crack of
his voice. “I would have cleaned it after I woke up.”
She opened her mouth to shout about business hours and the
responsibilities of real people but ultimately clamped her lips tight.
He was a grown man who shouldn’t need the basic lesson in common courtesy. But
he did.
Drew was a lost cause.
Erica stomped out without another word. Perhaps she should
tow his car down to Boston simply to be rid of him. Then her shop would go back
to normal. She’d only be out the gas and the mileage.
But it was the principle of the thing. He’d probably had
everything handed to him since he’d been born—including the Ferrari she’d never
be able to afford.
“I’ll get it,” he called after.
She quickened her pace so she could beat him into the
office. “Don’t bother.”
“Erica, I’m sorry. Really. I had a rough night. All I could
think about was how my own mother refuses to help me. Ae—er, hell, she’s made
the situation even worse.”
Erica’s frustration deflated at his gloomy answer. Drew was having a rough time. His day had been much worse than her night