Page 70 of Drive

It occurred to me that you may not be receiving these emails, but I think we both know, Miss Emerson, that is not the case. And since I have no proof of this, I have no choice but to believe that you remain steadfast in your decision to not mix business with research, however disconcerting that may be due to the nature of our profession. But for the sake of office morale, I may be so inclined to have a beer at our place at around 6:00 p.m. this evening to discuss this issue.

Nate Butler

Editor in Chief, Austin Speak

Sent via Blackberry

I smiled as I pulled up my email to compose a reply.

Stella Emerson

Subject: Deadlines

9:42PM

Dear Mr. Butler,

I am flattered by your correspondence and excited about the chance of working with you. Due to my current situation, I am unable to receive emails in a timely manner because of connection issues. I will be remedying this situation within the coming weeks. While all invitations are appreciated, I prefer to do my research alone. I am happy to report that things are rapidly progressing with my articles and they will be delivered to you in two months’ time.

Best Wishes,

Stella Emerson

Future Entertainment Columnist, Austin Speak

Sent via The Plate Bar

Minutes later, I was counting my tips and paused when I saw his idling Tahoe through the front door. I pressed my lips together to hide my smile as the heavily tinted driver’s side window rolled down.

“Best wishes, Miss Emerson?” Nate asked with a smirk.

“It’s professional, Mr. Butler,” I said, approaching him. The subtle hint of expensive and mouth-watering cologne drifted out of theSUVas I looked him over. His hair was mussed, and his tie was pulled loosely to rest on his chest. Sexy as sin, his blue eyes scoured me with intent. I was momentarily dazzled until I remembered I had a hit waiting on me.

“Nate,” I said with a sigh. “I can’t do this right now. I’m late.”

“Do what?” he said with a slow-building grin.

“Anything. I have somewhere to be.”

“Get in,” he ordered. “I’ll drive you.”

I bit my lip and stared at him.

“Stella, I’m harmless.”

“I’m good.”

“Get in. We can’t have you wandering the streets in that skirt.” I had changed into my black halter-top, hot-pink leather miniskirt, and black high-top Converse with Beastie Boy’s “Sure Shot” lyrics scribbled on the sides.

“Just a ride.” I jumped into his passenger seat and buckled my belt, the air from hisACblowing the heat back to hell. “Ahhh, God, it’s been a bitch of a summer. Thank you for the ride.”

“Where to?”

“Red Eye Fly. You know it?”

“Sure. Show?”

“Yeah.” I looked his way with guilty eyes, withholding an invitation for him to join me. He didn’t hesitate as he drove out of the parking lot.