Nobody's Baby but Mine(59)

“All right.”

She decided this would be as good a time as any to put an end to her imprisonment. He was in a fairly good mood, so maybe he’d handle the news better. “By the way, Cal, I need to do something about getting a car. Nothing fancy, just basic transportation. Who should I see?”

“No one. If you have to go some place, I’ll take you.”

As quickly at that, his affability vanished. He rose from the table and walked out of the kitchen, putting an end to the discussion.

But she wasn’t nearly done, and she followed him across the cavernous family room toward the study. “I’m used to my independence. I need my own car.” And then, waspishly, “I promise I won’t wave at your friends when I drive through town.”

“No car, Professor. That’s the way it’s going to be.” Once again, he walked away from her, this time disappearing into the study. She compressed her lips and marched forward. This was ridiculous. Cal seemed to have forgotten they lived in the twentieth century. And that she had her own money.

She stopped in the doorway. “Unlike your girlfriends, I’m old enough to have my driver’s license.”

“The joke’s wearing thin.”

“Except it’s not exactly a joke, is it?” She regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you sure all this has to do with protecting your parents? Are you sure it isn’t more about keeping me locked up so my advanced age and general lack of bimbo qualities don’t embarrass you in front of your friends?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He sprawled down behind the massive wooden desk.

She regarded him dispassionately. “I’m not even close to being the kind of woman all your buddies expected you to marry, am I? I’m not pretty enough to be your wife, my breasts aren’t big enough, and I’m too old. Big time embarrassment for the Bomber.”

He crossed his ankles and propped his boots on the desk. “If you say so.”

“I don’t need your permission to buy a car, Cal. I intend to do it whether you like it or not.”

He hit her dead on with those scorched-earth eyes. “Like hell.”

Completely exasperated and in no mood to enter into a full-fledged battle, she turned toward the door. Tomorrow she’d do as she liked, and he could just live with it. “I’ve had all of you I can take for right now. Good night.”

“Don’t you walk away from me!” He moved so quickly that she didn’t see him coming, and before she could get through the doorway, he’d blocked it. “Did you hear me?”

She splayed her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Back off, buster!”

Seconds ticked away, each one crackling with tension. His forehead wrinkled and his lips tightened, but at the same time, she detected something that seemed almost like anticipation in his eyes, as if he wanted to fight with her. It was the most astonishing thing. She was used to people who avoided conflict, but Cal seemed to enjoy it, and, to her surprise, she was more than willing to join in.

Before she got a chance, however, he dropped his gaze and the corner of his mouth curled. “Goofy.”

She’d been called many things, but never that, and her temper flared. “What did you say?”

“Your nightshirt.” He reached down and, with the tip of his finger, traced the cartoon appliqué that lay on the upper slope of her breast. “Goofy.”

“Oh.” Her anger deflated.

He smiled and began using his fingernail, running it back and forth over the outline of the figure. The skin of her breast tightened, and her nipple hardened in response. She hated reacting to something that was obviously a calculated move on his part. No wonder he had a big ego; he could probably turn women on in his sleep.

“I hope you’re arousing yourself because you’re not doing a thing to me.”

“Is that so?” He glanced down at the front of her nightshirt where the evidence clearly pointed to the contrary.

He was so arrogant; so sure of himself. She needed some small measure of revenge, so she shook her head and regarded him sadly. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you, Cal?”

“Figured what out?”

“Never mind.” She sighed. “I guess you’re probably a fairly nice guy underneath all that bluster, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

An edge of belligerence crept into his voice. “Don’t you worry about my feelings. What haven’t I figured out yet?”

She made a helpless, fluttery gesture that was surprisingly effective considering the fact that she’d never done anything like that before. “This is silly. I really don’t want to talk about it.”