The Last First Date. Maggie Wells

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      The challenge tweaked the thread of his control. “Because I made the mistake of getting out of my goddamn car.” A little fissure of pleasure traveled through her when his temper flared. “Because I’m the idiot who left my house tonight,” he continued. “The moron who let his grandmother set him up with one of her canasta buddy’s granddaughters. Any of those good enough reasons for you?” He clapped his hands like a Vegas dealer then held them up to show he was clear. “You know what? Fine. Have it your way. Just give me your name and contact information in case these cockamamy charges don’t go away.”

      She blinked in surprise. “Cockamamy? Did you just say cockamamy?”

      He headed for the driver’s door. “Let me just get a pen.”

      Backseat Bimbette started babbling the moment he opened the door, but he ignored her. Intrigued, Jessica took a step closer, hoping to pick up a thread of the conversation. Seconds later, he backed his way out of the low-slung cockpit with a notepad and pen in hand and slammed the door again.

      “Name?”

      “Jessica Vickers.” The response came automatically, a knee-jerk reaction to the command in his tone more than the question itself.

      “Telephone? Home or cell, whichever is best.”

      She shot him a level look. “I’ve had men ask a little more nicely.”

      “I could arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

      “Bull.” She arched her eyebrows. “Besides, that seems a waste of paperwork when this sounds like an open-and-shut case.”

      “Get in the car.”

      He growled the order and returned her stare without flinching. The man didn’t back down and he didn’t blow anyone off. She liked that about him. Stepping off the curb, she let her fingertips trail through the wet slush gathering on the hood as she made her way to the passenger door. “You’re a hell of a gumshoe, Detective.”

      His lips twitched and he met her gaze across the roof of the car. His steely eyes warmed again. A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Where were you when I was looking for a date for New Year’s Eve?”

      She opened the car door. “As far away from any canasta club as I could get.”

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