thief than we are. Look at her.”
Mercury didn’t want to look at her, but he did anyway. He immediately thought the same thing he had when he’d first seen her. She was a very beautiful woman. Her features were just that striking. And then there was that delectable-looking figure in a navy blue pencil skirt and white blouse. Sexy as hell. But still...
“Unlike you, Sherman, I refuse to get taken in by a beautiful face and a nice body. Need I remind you, the woman was caught with a stolen car, and I refuse to be that gullible.” Again. He quickly pushed to the back of his mind the one time he had been and the lasting damage it had caused him.
“Look on the bright side, Mercury. At least you got your car back. You can’t blame her for being too trusting.”
He could blame her and was in just the rotten mood to do it. “Whatever.”
“So, will you give her a ride to police headquarters? The sooner we can get there and plow through all the paperwork, the sooner you can get your car released to you. Then you can forget you’ve ever seen Sloan Donahue.”
“So, where are you from?”
Sloan hadn’t wanted to glance over at the man whose name was Mercury Steele, but with his question she felt compelled to do so. She had been satisfied with pretending to view all the sights outside the car’s window but now that had to come to an end. It wasn’t that she was ignoring him, because to ignore a man who looked like him would be nearly impossible. However, she did have a lot to think about.
Because of her naivete in trusting that man who’d sold her that car, she could have been thrown in jail. She could just imagine her parents’ reactions if she’d been forced to call and ask them for bail money. Their accusations that she couldn’t fend for herself would have been proved right.
Shifting in her seat, she glanced over to Mercury Steele and asked a question of her own. “How do you know I’m not from here?”
“Trust me. I know.”
She raised a brow. “How? My accent?” She honestly didn’t think she had one.
“No, it wasn’t your accent. It’s your looks. I know every beautiful woman in this town. If you were from here, we would have met already.”
Was he serious? Sloan studied his profile as he maneuvered the car in traffic and figured that, yes, he was serious. “I’m from Cincinnati, Ohio.”
“I represented a kid from there once.”
“You’re an attorney?”
“No, a sports agent.”
She nodded. Although she didn’t know a lot about that occupation, other than they brokered deals for athletes wanting to play certain sports for a living, she thought he fit the part. First off, he was a sharp dresser. She was convinced the suit he was wearing was the same designer brand her father and Harold often wore. And then there was this car he was driving. A Tesla, like hers. It was obvious he was a successful man. Why hadn’t she noticed that before accusing him of trying to steal her car? A car it seemed was rightfully his.
Sloan released a long sigh and inwardly admitted that, considering the circumstances of how they’d met, she appreciated him giving her a lift to the police station. It was time she told him that and apologized for her earlier accusations.
“Mr. Steele?” They’d come to a traffic light and he glanced over at her. In a way, she wished he hadn’t. There was something about his green eyes that unsettled her.
“Yes?”
“I want to apologize for everything. I honestly didn’t know the car was stolen.”
He didn’t say anything and for a minute she wondered if he would. Instead he stared at her. Finally, before turning back to the road, he said, “Apology accepted.”
That made her feel better, although to her way of thinking, he’d said it almost grudgingly. “And I want to thank you for giving me a lift to the police station.”
“Don’t mention it.” A few moments later, he asked, “How old are you,