Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,229

knows women are more willing to give it up at a wedding.”

I tilt my head and stare at him for a second. He keeps the act up for a good couple seconds before a laugh bellows out. His lips tip and his smile sends a warm sensation through my body.

“Did you just make a joke?” I ask with mock astonishment.

The car speeds up once we reach the freeway clear of the downtown traffic.

“Some people enjoy my sense of humor,” he says before checking the mirror and changing lanes.

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen it.”

Roarke shakes his head at me and presses a radio preset button and classical musical streams through the car. Then he puts his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel and focuses on the road. He hums the tune, oblivious to me watching him.

We continue sailing down the freeway since rush hour is over, the only sound besides the tires running over the cement are oboes and violins. Roarke switches lanes to pass a slow driver in the left lane, effortlessly moving back into the fast lane.

So he’s one of those drivers, huh? Not that it surprises me. Never stops or slows, just whizzes back and forth. He’s the guy you hope to see pulled over a few miles ahead, though I will say his arrogant and cocky Mario Andretti driving style suits him.

“Okay, even I can’t pretend that long.” His long fingers press a dial on his steering wheel and the volume decreases.

Confused by the whole situation, I glance over and he’s got a shit eating grin on his face.

“What?”

“I just put that on because you keep making assumptions about me. I’d never listen to that shit out of choice. You want to know my music? This is what I listen to.” He switches from the radio over to Bluetooth, his phone lighting up in the center console signaling that it’s streaming.

“Regulate” by Warren G. begins playing.

I turn my head tilts his way and he raises his eyebrows. “Surprised?”

I nod toward his phone. “May I?”

“Please.” He picks up his phone and hands it over to me.

I scroll through his music and all that’s listed is nineties hip-hop. Snoop Dog, House of Pain, Salt-N-Pepa, LL Cool J. “Vanilla Ice?” I ask.

He shrugs and a pink tint warms his face. “Don’t even try to deny that you loved that song at one point in your life.”

I roll my eyes. He’ll never get me to admit that I knew the choreography of that dance video by heart and that my best friends and I used to perform it for each other.

“Are you going to stop typecasting me anytime soon?” He lowers the volume of the music and shoots over three lanes to head up the north exit ramp.

“I’d like to survive this trip.” My knuckles whiten on the handle of the door.

“Sorry, you’re distracting.”

We follow the signs to Milwaukee. “Wisconsin?”

He nods.

“Huh, never would have thought.”

“I figured.” He eases back in his seat, his hands resting on the bottom of the steering wheel as he slows our speed down.

I’m reflecting on his musical tastes when something dawns on me. “Why were you listening to the Dave Matthews Band that morning in your house if you’re a hip-hop fan?”

He doesn’t speak for a beat, but I continue to wait out his answer. Finally he shrugs and says, “I thought something like that would be more your speed.”

That’s actually kind of sweet.

When I don’t respond right away he asks, “Do you ever listen to hip-hop?”

“If it comes on the radio maybe.”

“I figured.”

“Who’s assuming now?” I tease.

He chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Note taken. I did assume you were more of a Backstreet Boys girl.”

Damn him for hitting it on the mark.

“Sorry, or was it N’Sync? Ninety-Eight Degrees?”

I fidget in my seat. “You had it right the first time. Your PI guy must be good.”

“I only hire the best.” He smirks the usual one that makes my mind conflict on whether I want to slap it or kiss it off his face. Lately, it’s been the latter as much as I try to deny my attraction to him.

“That’s one thing we have in common, I guess.”

“Listen, I don’t want to fill this weekend with conversation about how we know each other from the past, but I just want to say…if you’d come to me before Todd, I would have happily represented you.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to talk about Todd or the circumstances that led me here.” I cross my legs and lean against