Nickeled-And-Dimed to Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

with me, he had explained and apologized a few days later. She especially didn’t accept his justification for ending our relationship in the first place. Which, according to Noah, was because if he didn’t stop dating me, his mother, a member of the bank’s board of directors, had threatened to have Gran charged with aiding and abetting my father’s embezzlement scheme.
    After a lot of fast-talking, I had almost convinced Birdie that exploiting Noah for his connections was the best revenge of all. Of course, the glass of Jack Daniel’s Gran had consumed had probably helped more than any of my verbal tap-dancing. The second shot hadn’t hurt either.
    Still, I wasn’t taking any chances, so as soon as Noah’s headlights appeared, I yelled good-bye, raced out the door as fast as my high heels could take me, and hopped in his car almost before it came to a complete stop. He was still putting the Jaguar in park when I finished buckling my seatbelt.
    He looked at me with a slightly bemused smile, and asked, “Escaping from Stalag 17?”
    “Nope.” I smoothed my trench coat and tucked my evening bag next to my side. “Just avoiding an encounter between you and Birdie.”
    “She didn’t take the news of our date very well?” Noah made a three-point turn and headed back down the lane toward the county road.
    “This is not a date,” I quickly corrected him. I definitely wasn’t ready to admit that I was out with my high school ex for any reason other than a professional one.
    “Of course not,” Noah teased, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just because we’re both all dressed up and going to a dance doesn’t make it a date.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Right?”
    “Don’t go there,” I warned. “If this is a social engagement, you can just turn around and take me home.” I lifted an eyebrow and stared.
    “It’s strictly a business arrangement.” Noah gestured surrender with his hands, then grabbed the steering wheel as the sports car veered over the yellow line. “I provide you with an introduction to a potential customer, and your presence makes my life easier.”
    “Fine.” I relaxed. “As long as we’re clear on that, I’m good.”
    The country club was only a few miles out of town, and as we drove, Noah entertained me with stories about medical school and his residency. I couldn’t believe that he and a buddy had kidnapped a cadaver, dressed it as Santa, and left it sitting on a lawn chair in front of the university president’s house. And what they did with a hand they had dissected . . . Well, let’s just say it appeared that doctors had the same dark sense of humor as other high-stress professionals.
    Ten minutes later, Noah made a right turn between two enormous brick columns and drove along the golf course. It was too dark to see much, but from the glow of the streetlights, I could tell that the grass was just starting to turn green and the local ducks and geese were making full use of the water traps.
    Although I had driven by the entrance of the country club several times, I had never ventured past the gates. Still, I wasn’t surprised to see that the clubhouse was an ultramodern design. People who had recently moved to Shadow Bend and commuted to jobs in Kansas City tended to favor contemporary architecture over traditional or historic. And they definitely appreciated flashy over stately.
    I had to admit that even though I preferred vintage buildings, the angled entrance and mahogany double doors were impressive. And the overhead windows that appeared to hover unsupported over the steps took my breath away. I stood gazing upward, trying to figure out how the windows had been constructed, until Noah clasped my elbow and led me inside.
    When we stepped into the foyer, an African American woman dressed in a stunning red silk suit greeted us. She introduced herself as Kiara Howard, the country club’s event planner, and pointed out the coat check. Once we’d handed over our