A Will and a Way

letting her common sense be overrun by an attraction that would lead nowhere. Could she? “Michael, there’s no use blowing what happened out of proportion.”
    “Just what is that proportion?”
    The car felt stuffy and close. Pandora switched off the heat and concentrated on the road. “We’re two adults,” she began, but had to swallow twice.
    “And?”
    “Dammit, Michael, I don’t have to spell it out.”
    “Yes, you do.”
    “We’re two adults,” she said again, but with temper replacing nerves. “We have normal adult needs. We slept together and satisfied them.”
    “How practical.”
    “I am practical.” Abruptly, and very badly, she wanted to weep. “Much too practical to weave fantasies about a man who likes his women in six packs. Too practical,” she went on, voice rising, “to picture myself emotionally involved with a man I spent one night with. And too practical to romanticize what was no more than an exchange of normal and basic lust.”
    “Pull over.”
    “I will not.”
    “Pull over to the shoulder, Pandora, or I’ll do it for you.”
    She gritted her teeth and debated calling his bluff. There was just enough traffic on the road to force her hand. With only aslight squeal of tires, Pandora pulled off to the side of the road. Michael turned off the key then grabbed her by the lapels and pulled her half into his seat. Before she could struggle away, he closed his mouth over hers.
    Heat, anger, passion. They seemed to twist together into one emotion. He held her there as cars whizzed by, shaking the windows. She infuriated him, she aroused him, she hurt him. In Michael’s opinion, it was too much for one man to take from one woman. As abruptly as he’d grabbed her, he released her.
    “Make something practical out of that,” he challenged.
    Breathless, Pandora struggled back into her own seat. In a furious gesture, she turned the key, gunning the motor. “Idiot.”
    “Yeah.” He sat back as she pulled back onto the highway. “We finally agree on something.”
     
    It was a long ride into the city. Longer still when you sat in a car in tense silence. Once they entered Manhattan, Pandora was forced to follow Michael’s directions to the lab.
    “How do you know where it is?” she demanded after they left the car in a parking garage. The sidewalk was mobbed with people hurrying to exchange what had been brightly boxed and wrapped the day before. As they walked, Pandora held her coat closed against the wind.
    “I looked the address up in Jolley’s files yesterday.” Michael walked the half block hatless, his coat flapping open, clutching the box with the champagne under one arm. He wasn’t immune to the cold but found it a relief after the hot tension of the drive.With a brisk gesture to Pandora, he pushed through revolving doors and entered the lobby of a steel-and-glass building. “He owned the whole place.”
    Pandora looked across the marble floor. It sloped upward and widened into a crowded, bustling area with men and women carrying briefcases. “This whole place?”
    “All seventy-two floors.”
    It hit her again just how complicated the estate was. How many companies operated in the building? How many people worked there? How could she possibly crowd her life with this kind of responsibility? If she could get her hands on Uncle Jolley—Pandora broke off, almost amused. How he must be enjoying this, she thought.
    “What am I supposed to do with seventy-two floors in midtown?”
    “There are plenty of people to do it for you.” Michael gave their names to the guard at the elevators. With no delay, they were riding to the fortieth floor.
    “So there are people to do it for us. Who keeps track of them?”
    “Accountants, lawyers, managers. It’s a matter of hiring people to look after people you hire.”
    “That certainly clears that up.”
    “If you’re worried, think about Jolley. Having a fortune didn’t seem to keep him from enjoying himself. For the most part, he looked at the whole business as a kind of hobby.”
    Pandora watched the numbers above the door. “A hobby.”
    “Everyone should have a hobby.”
    “Tennis is a hobby,” she muttered.
    “The trick is to keep the ball moving. Jolley tossed it in our court, Pandora.”
    She folded her arms. “I’m not ready to be grateful for that.”
    “Look at it this way then.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “You don’t have to know how to build a car to own one. You just