What a Woman Gets by Judi Fennell

fits.”
    â€œYou think you’re so funny, don’t you? Acting all holier-than-thou because you were there when my father—” She glanced at Marco. “Uh, just now.”
    Liam shrugged and handed the fluff-ball to her. “Just sayin.’”
    â€œYou can keep your comments to yourself.” She hiked the pooch and kissed the silly knot on its head. The thing licked her on the lips.
    Yeah, the
lips
. Not a big deal, Liam was guessing. The pooch probably made regular trips to the doggy dentist.
    The extremely fast and extremely quiet elevator made quick work of the twelve stories to street level, and Marco was the epitome of the not-seen-and-not-heard help as he held the door open for them. Liam would have tipped him, but since Cassidy made no move to, he figured good ol’ Mitch’s daughter either didn’t have to or had an account that paid out handsomely at holiday time. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was for this level of high life.
    Liam was heading for the front door when Cassidy took a left toward another bank of elevators, fully expecting him to tag along, her flip-flops flopping furiously on the marble floor. It’d serve her right if he dropped her bag right there in the lobby for assuming he was her lackey, but—dammit—he felt sorry for her and didn’t want to make a scene after the one she’d just had.
    *   *   *
    T HE second bank of elevators opened into a parking garage unlike any he’d ever seen before. It wasn’t just
any
old parking garage. The floors looked like brick, the support columns were Ionic, and he wouldn’t be surprised if there were cushioned benches in the shape of that stupid dog bed all over the place. The lap of luxury for luxury cars.
    â€œSon of a bitch.”
    Liam did a double take. One did not expect to hear such language from a socialite who’d gone to all the best finishing schools. Not that he knew which schools those were, but that’d been her claim to fame every time she was mentioned in the newspaper. He was fairly certain Cussing 101 wasn’t on the curriculum.
    â€œThat supercilious, sanctimonious bastard.”
    If it was a course, she’d get an A for delivery because the words sounded so incongruous coming from that angelic face.
    And then he saw what she was looking at.
    There was a boot on the Mercedes.
    A boot.
    Man, that was fast. But then, Mitchell Davenport probably had people lying in wait to do his bidding.
    â€œHe booted your car?”
    Cassidy inhaled so deeply her breasts rose a good four inches—which made her shirt rise a good four inches, showing a delicious four inches of silky, tanned skin.
    Why couldn’t the woman be fat and dumpy? Why’d she have to be straight out of every erotic fantasy he’d ever had
and
be a pampered princess? Was the universe
trying
to torture him?
    â€œHow the
hell
does he expect me to go anywhere without my car?”
    â€œThat explains the taxicab comment from Marco.”
    She twisted her lips. “Great. Marco knows. I wonder who else does. It’s not bad enough my father evicts me, now he makes me a laughing stock.” She set the puffball down, dragged her pocketbook off her shoulder, and started rummaging through it. “Dammit.”
    He was almost afraid to ask. “What?”
    â€œI don’t have any cash.”
    Of course she didn’t. The super rich didn’t have to carry cash.
    â€œI’m sure you can charge cab fare.”
    She looked at him as if he were an idiot. “The man put a boot on my car. It takes about a tenth of that time to cancel my credit cards and, oh hell, my debit card. You can bet
my
money that my father didn’t overlook those.”
    Liam wasn’t betting anything. Betting had gotten him into this predicament—and smack dab in the middle of hers.
    â€œWhat about stopping at a bank? You can make a withdrawal.”
    She shook her