“Broke your pencil,” Hunter observed, finding himself more amused than he’d been in days. He glanced at her open notebook, spotting the meticulously drawn caricature. An appreciative grin appeared. “Well done,” he told her. “How’d you enjoy the workshop?”

Lee gave him one scathing look as the elevator doors opened. “You’re a font of trivial information, Mr. Brown.”

“You’ve got murder in your eyes, Lenore.” He stepped into the hall with her. “It suits your hair. Your drawing makes it clear enough what you’d like to do. Why don’t you stab me while you have the chance?”

As she continued to walk, Lee told herself she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of speaking to him. She wouldn’t speak to him at all. Her head jerked up. “You’ve had a good laugh at my expense,” she grated, and dug in her briefcase for her room key.

“A quiet chuckle or two,” he corrected while she continued to simmer and search. “Lose your key?”

“No, I haven’t lost my key.” Frustrated, Lee looked up until fury met amusement. “Why don’t you go away and sit on your laurels?”

“I’ve always found that uncomfortable. Why don’t you vent your spleen, Lenore. You’d feel better.”

“Don’t call me Lenore!” she exploded as her control slipped. “You had no right to use me as the brunt of a joke. You had no right to pretend you worked for the hotel.”

“You assumed,” he corrected. “As I recall, I never pretended anything. You asked for a ride yesterday. I simply gave you one.”

“You knew I thought you were the hotel driver. You were standing there beside my luggage—”

“A classic case of mistaken identity.” He noted that her skin tinted with pale rose when she was angry. An attractive side effect, Hunter decided. “I’d come to pick up my editor, who’d missed her Phoenix connection, as it turned out. I thought the luggage was hers.”

“All you had to do was say that at the time.”

“You never asked,” he pointed out. “And you did tell me to get the luggage.”

“Oh, you’re infuriating.” Clamping her teeth shut, she began to fumble in her briefcase again.

“But brilliant. You mentioned that yourself.”

“Being able to string words together is an admirable talent, Mr. Brown.” Hauteur was one of her most practiced skills. Lee used it to the fullest. “It doesn’t make you an admirable person.”

“No, I wouldn’t say I was, particularly.” While he waited for her to find her key, Hunter leaned comfortably against the wall.

“You carried my luggage to my room,” she continued, infuriated. “I gave you a five-dollar tip.”

“Very generous.”