“Well, I…” Forced to swallow, she trailed off. That alone infuriated her. She wasn’t about to be set off into stammers by a driver for the hotel. “If you’ve come to pick me up,” Lee said curtly, “you’ll need to get my bags.”

Lifting a brow, he said nothing. Her mistake was simple and obvious. It would have taken only a sentence from him to correct it. Then again, it was her mistake, not his. Hunter had always believed more in impulses than explanations. Bending down, he picked up the Pullman, then slung the strap of the garment bag over his shoulder. “The car’s out here.”

She felt a great deal more secure with the briefcase in her hand and his back to her. The oddness, Lee told herself, had come from excitement and a long flight. Men never surprised her; they certainly never made her stare and stammer. What she needed was a bath and something a bit more substantial to eat than that hot dog.

The car he’d referred to wasn’t a car, she noted, but a Jeep. Supposing this made sense, with the steep roads and hard winters, Lee climbed in.

Moves well, he thought, and dresses flawlessly. He noted, too, that she bit her nails. “Are you from the area?” Hunter asked conversationally when he’d stowed her bags in the back.

“No. I’m here for the writers’ conference.”

Hunter climbed in beside her and shut the door. Now he knew where to take her. “You’re a writer?”

She thought of the two chapters of her manuscript she’d brought along in case she needed a cover. “Yes.”

Hunter swung through the parking lot, taking the back road that led to the highway. “What do you write?”

Settling back, Lee decided she might as well try her routine out on him before she was in the middle of two hundred published and aspiring writers. “I’ve done articles and some short stories,” she told him truthfully enough. Then she added what she’d rarely told anyone. “I’ve started a novel.”

With a speed that surprised but didn’t unsettle her, he burst onto the highway. “Are you going to finish it?” he asked, showing an insight that disturbed her.

“I suppose that depends on a lot of things.”

He took another careful look at her profile. “Such as?”

She wanted to shift in her seat but forced herself to be still. This was just the sort of question she might have to answer over the weekend. “Such as if what I’ve done so far is any good.”

He found both her answer and her discomfort reasonable. “Do you go to many of these conferences?”

“No, this is my first.”

Which might account for the nerves, Hunter mused, but he didn’t think he’d found the entire answer.