Walter’s hand sought out Beth’s in the darkness of the back seat. His fingers intertwined with hers and squeezed. Beth squeezed back, even though she was a little repelled by the copious amounts of sweat coating his palm.
He was nervous. And she was making him that way. The realization made her feel oddly powerful.
Evanston’s Sheridan Road and its carefully tended million-dollar homes rolled by as Walter’s mother headed the car south, toward Beth’s house. Mrs. Douglas was doing a good job of pretending to be preoccupied with the radio, even reaching down and hitting the “seek” button every so often, just for good measure.
But Beth could see her checking out the two of them in the rearview mirror, keeping a close watch on what was going on.
What did she think? That Beth was going to amb
