by Maggie Kane
“Don’t you have something you should be doing,” I growl, pushing past him and heading for my office in the back. My tone would have sent anyone else scurrying, but Mike had long since been immune.
“You want to tell me why a beautiful woman just drove off in your car?” He trails behind me, clearly intending to take his pound of flesh.
“Fuck off,” I say without looking back at him, though the words lack any malice. “Do you have the Buick ready yet? Mrs. Milton needs it back so she can take her cats to the vet.”
“Screw, Mrs. Milton,” he says, dropping into his typical sprawl in the chair across from my desk.
I lift an eyebrow. “Mrs. Milton? Really? I thought you had some standards.”
Mike scoffs and tosses the Buick’s keys on my desk. “We can’t have Fluffy, Milo, Samantha, and Kitty Boy late for their appointment.”
“You forgot Thor,” I remind him as I start to fill out the invoice.
Mike rolls his eyes. “Who was the babe? Are you walking home, tonight?”
“The bike is in the back,” I say studiously ignoring the first question and pretending to be absorbed in Mrs. Milton’s invoice.
“Right. Just remember- protect the upholstery and yourself,” he stands and flips a condom on the desk as he saunters out of my office.
I can’t help but laugh. Only Mike would give me advice on having sex in a client’s car after getting his ass handed to him that morning for the very same thing.
What the Hell am I doing, I think. I just let a woman drive away with my car, and all I know about her is her name and phone number. The money I’m going to lose on the deal is nothing. I’ll write it off, and I haven’t taken on a project in a while. Make no mistake, that hunk of junk out there is nothing short of a major project.
I stare at the computer screen trying to identify my motivation for this morning’s behavior. There was something about Mia that had grabbed me the moment I walked into the office. It wasn’t just that she was gorgeous or that she filled out her jeans in all the right places. She was steel wrapped in silk. The way she stuck out her chin and put her hands on her hips- there was more to Mia Andrews and I wanted to see it.
The bike felt good underneath me as I pulled onto the freeway. I chose this route so I could open her up for a bit. I need to let off some of this edginess that has been building all afternoon. I’m not nervous. I don’t get nervous. I’m restless after a day of grappling with images of Mia. Mia with her face covered in mascara; Mia licking his lips; Mia on her knees; Mia tied to a chair. I take a deep breath and ease the throttle back so I drop down below 100. The more I think about her, the more erotic the images become. I shift carefully, trying to ease my hard-on in my jeans. Get a grip, Castle. It's dinner- ONLY dinner.
I pull the bike into the garage, feeling a bit more settled after a long fast ride down Highway 54. Its curves reminded me of Mia’s, but riding on just the edge of too fast, I was able to find the adrenaline release I needed.
I am pleased to see that Lenny had delivered Mia’s car. I don’t want to work on it at the shop. Mike was already having a hay day with the situation. He would be intolerable if he actually witnessed me doing the work. Besides, this way Mia will need to come here to pick it up. Before my mind can spiral again into Mia fantasies, I mentally slam that door shut. I have a dinner to prepare.
I grab a quick shower and trade out my greasy jeans with a clean pair and a t-shirt. I pull two bottles of wine from the cooler and pad into the kitchen barefoot. Nothing fancy on the menu tonight. Just a simple chicken stir fry with rice. I turn on some tunes and get busy trying to keep my mind occupied while I wait for 7:00 to arrive.
Chapter 5
Mia
I rub my eyes and try for the hundredth time to focus on the screen in front of me. It has been a wasted afternoon. I sat through my Advanced Business Management class, and I have no idea what was discussed. Fortunately, attendance only meant that your body had to be present. I barely qualified even for that. My mind and more than half my body had been turning over the morning’s encounter with Garrett Castle.
The man was razor sharp and totally in control. I normally wouldn’t be attracted to that, but he wore it so effortlessly. Garrett made you want to let him be in control because there was a promise of something more on the other side of those icy blue eyes. Of course, his tone, sleek, athletic body left no doubt he could follow through on any promise he makes.
I give myself a mental eye roll and tell myself to stop drooling. Then, I do a quick chin check to make sure I really wasn’t. My inner feminist rallies and I find myself swinging to the other side on my emotional pendulum. I don’t appreciate having my vulnerability exploited. I should have told him to take his keys to his pretty little Audi and shove them far and deep. Instead, I’ve pimped myself out. Dinner and 700 bucks for car repairs that are going to cost over 3 grand, I think as I shake my head. Of course, I’m not doing too badly. It took Julia Roberts a whole week in Pretty Woman to make this kind of money and Garrett is way hotter than Richard Gere.
I finally accept that I am not going to make any progress on my final project today. I lower my laptop screen and pack up the unused books and papers I have scattered around me. I am almost done with it. Mentally, I juggle working the weekend and finishing before the Monday due date. No problem I tell myself as I leave the library. Who needs sleep anyway?
I shower and shave and put my hair in rollers. There is a part of me that thinks I should show up wearing my big baggie sweats and put my hair into a messy ponytail. I swipe on mascara- waterproof this time. I don’t plan on having any waterworks this evening, but why take the chance of embarrassing myself twice in one day.
In the end, I slide into a dark purple halter top flare dress that falls several inches above my knee. It always makes me feel flirty and sexy. Normally, I’d wear leggings since it is far shorter than intended thanks to my long legs. Tonight, I leave my legs bare, wishing that I had more time to tan. I just concentrate on the fact that they are smooth and soft and look awesome when I step into my highest pair of heels. I grab a pretty shimmery purple wrap out of my closet and toss it around my shoulders. One last glance in the mirror confirms, I look smoking hot and feel a twinge of excitement run through me.
I decide to keep the glass-half-full perspective firmly in mind. I’m spending the evening in the company of a gorgeous man who I find extremely attractive. I’m getting my car fixed and dinner on top of it. Judging by the state of my empty fridge and bare pantry, that is another big mark in the win column. Actually, the more I think about it, I might be getting the best part of this bargain.
Chapter 6
Garrett
The doorbell rings at 6:59. I smile as I head to answer it. I like a woman who’s prompt. I swing open the door and stop to stare in appreciation. Mia Andrews is standing on the porch looking like sex in heels. She looks completely self-assured as I take her in. She looks good and she knows it. I give her a slow inspection up and down and can’t fight the grin pulling at my mouth. This is exactly the reaction she was hoping for.
Once I complete my ogling, I stand back and gesture her inside. She steps in and stumbles a bit in her heels. I reach out to steady her, stepping close to support her. Her hair smells like summer rain, and I love the sparkly highlights she has on her cheeks. I like that she went through the effort to impress me. I have to make myself let her go and step back once she is steady on her feet.
“Slippery spot,” she says stepping away and gives me a quick smile before walking down the hallway. I watch appreciatively as she walks away. Her neck is bare under her mass of pinned up curls. I give a half a second of thought to the engineering marvel of curls and what must be a hundred bobby pins before moving down over her bare shoulders. Her dress lays over the curve of her hip just right. You know it is there, but hidden, making you want to run your hand down her body to define it. Her legs are strong, toned, and at least a mile long. I think about how well they would wrap ar
ound me, before remembering that she is here for dinner, only dinner. This may well become my mantra if I am going to get through this night with our bargain intact.
I blow out the breath I had been holding and follow her into the kitchen. “Have a seat,” I say, waving at the barstools on the other side of the kitchen island. “I’ve got a few things to finish up before dinner is ready. There’s wine if you want it.”
“Thanks. You have a lovely home,” Mia says as she pours herself a glass of wine. She comes into the kitchen, refills my glass, and peeks at what I am doing at the stove. She stands close to me, and her breasts brush against my arm as she looks into the wok. “It smells yummy. I’m starving.”
Instead of sitting in one of the bar stools, she hops up on the counter close the stove. She crosses her legs and takes a sip of her wine, watching me over the top of her glass. “Careful, Ms. Andrews. You don’t want to get burned,” I say before adding the vegetables to the hot wok. The vegetables sizzle when they hit the hot oil.
“I can take the heat,” she says without budging.
Oh, really I think. Let’s see about that. “I need a spatula.” I indicate that it is in the drawer under where she is sitting. She gives me a smile and straightens her leg. I chuckle low in my chest and grab her leg, pinning it to my hip. With the other hand, I pull the drawer open, and as I reach into it, I slide my thumb along her inner thigh. I feel her leg jerk in my grasp, and I run the spatula along the same route before I close the drawer and drop her leg.
Mia takes a drink and licks her lips. She shifts a bit on the counter, surreptitiously putting a little more distance between herself and the stove. I keep my eyes on the chicken and vegetables, moving them around in the wok. Her skin was so soft. I was a half a second away from taking both of her legs and wrapping them around my waist. I think about how it would feel to bury myself in her as she wraps herself around me.
“Garrett?” Her voice interrupts my thoughts. Apparently, I had missed a question.
“Yes, Ms. Andrews?”
“I asked if you had a shop here. The garage looks a bit big for your standard 2 car design. And call me Mia, please. You make me feel like I’m talking to my high school principal with all this Ms. Andrews business.” She hops off the counter and lands shakily on her heels. Fortunately, she had a hold of the granite countertop so she doesn’t fall.
“Alright, Mia,” I say as I watch her try to cover her stumble by smoothing her skirt. “Yes, I have a full shop and showroom under in the basement. I collect cars. It’s a mechanic thing.” I plate our dinners and lead the way to the table. She follows bringing both the wine glasses. “If you’d like, I’ll show you my collection after dinner.”
Mia raises an eyebrow. Clearly, she thinks that I mean something other than my car collection. She’s right. I have much more that I would like to show her.
Chapter 7
Mia
I feel like I am doggie paddling against Niagara Falls. The pull of attraction coming off of Garrett makes me want to hop on his lap and tell him to show me everything. The wine is making my head fuzzy. I have hardly eaten anything today and the wine is going straight to my head. I resolve not to drink anymore and start in on my meal.
“Wow. This is excellent,” I tell him and mean every word of it. It isn’t fancy, but the seasoning is just right, and it is cooked to perfection. “Is cooking a mechanic thing too?” I let out a giggle and try not to, which makes me giggle more. I really shouldn’t have had wine before dinner.
He looks at me with wry amusement. “It’s more of an eating thing. I like to eat good food, and I don’t like to eat out all the time. Hence, I’ve learned to cook.”
“That makes total sense,” I say, trying to be serious.
“Are you drunk, Mia? Off one glass of wine?”
“No, not drunk. I just can’t feel my feet, but everything else feels very warm and fuzzy. And I do mean everything.” I give him a wink as I grab my glass and frown into it. Apparently, I had finished it without realizing.
“I think you’ve had enough of that,” he says with a short bark of laughter and takes the glass from me. He gets up from the table and returns a moment later with a tall glass of water. “So, you mentioned graduating earlier today. What are you studying?”
I take a drink of water and a bite of food, trying to make my mind function. I think I should probably be embarrassed, but I feel far too relaxed to put in the effort. Finally, I answer, “Business. I’ll have my master’s in a month, and if I’m lucky, get an internship. I really like the advertising, sales, and marketing side of things. I’m not as much into the numbers aspect of it. My accounting classes were painful.” I realize I am babbling. I take a few more bites so my mouth is occupied with something else.
“How old are you, Ms. Andrews?”
“Mia,” I remind him. “I’m almost 29. Got a bit of a late start on the whole college thing.” I don’t tell him why, though. He doesn’t need to know that. Nobody, not even my best friend, Cara, knows that. “What about you?”
“30, last month. Do you work while you are going to school,” he asks and looks genuinely interested. I don’t know why I find myself hoping that he is.
“Yeah, I’m the weekend manager for the Ladies’ Department at Dillard’s. It’s not the greatest, but it pays the bills.” I pause and then add, “Most of the time. Lately, I’ve been adding in dinners with strange men to make a little extra here and there.”
That gets a short laugh and I give him a smile. I’m surprised how comfortable I find him. The chicken, vegetables, and rice are soaking up some of the alcohol from the wine, and my head is clearer. I thought it was the wine that was making me warm and fuzzy. I’m beginning to think it might be more Garrett than the wine. If that’s the case, I’m in big trouble.
Dinner continues with idle chit-chat, mainly me talking about classes, work, and answering his general questions with general answers. It is an easy conversation on safe topics. I decline another glass of wine after our plates are clean. “I’ve got to be going soon. Let me help you clear up, though.”
The conversation has wound down in the last couple of minutes, and I don’t know what to do. Dinner is over. I have held up my part of the bargain. Technically, doing the dishes isn’t part of it, but it is polite. Truth be told, I don’t want to leave.
I leave my heels under the table. My head is clearer, but I have almost broken my neck twice already. No need to tempt fate further. I rinse, and he puts things in the dishwasher. He says to leave the wok for later.
“I’d be happy to show you the cars,” Garrett offers and it seems that maybe he isn’t in too big of a hurry for me to leave either.
“I’d like that. I will try to be properly impressed by your collection, but I warn you, I know nothing about cars.” I hope I don’t sound too eager. Now that the time to leave is here, I find that I am desperate to find some reason to stay.
“That, Ms. Andrews, is obvious from the condition of your car. Did you know that you are actually supposed to change the oil from time to time?”
Of course I knew that I was supposed to change the oil. I just didn’t have the money to spare on it. “It’s Mia and I give it gas, isn’t that enough?” I quip, hoping he won’t make me admit why I let it get in such bad shape.
“As long as you have kept the blinker fluid topped off, it will be salvageable.” He looks at me over his shoulder as he leads the way down the stairs.
I roll my eyes. As car-illiterate as I am, I know there is no such thing as blinker fluid. “Oh, of course, and I am always sure to top off the headlight juice too.”
That gets me another one of those deep chuckles that make me all warm and tingly. I love making him laugh. All of those razor edges soften just a little when he does.
His ‘collection’ is housed in a sprawling open garage that extends well beyond the dimensions of the house above. The painted concrete floor is laid out in a classic checkerboard and parked in a neat row are a dozen polis
hed sexy muscle cars and 3 motorcycles. I glance over in the corner where the actual shop is located and cringe. My Camry is sitting there looking like an audacious weed in a flower bed.
I turn my eyes away and back go back to admiring the gleaming row of sleek steel machines. I recognize a Mustang, a Corvette, and a Camaro. The others all look powerful, fast, and classic, but their makes and models are a mystery to me. They make me think of the pictures in the office that morning, and I suddenly understand why beautiful women would lay half-naked on the hood and have their picture taken. These machines exude raw power. I know that if I were to slide behind the wheel and feel all those horses at my fingertips, my motor would be running too.
“Wow. They’re beautiful,” I say and lightly run my hand over the hood of the closest one. I’m amazed at how drawn I am to this machine. I’m gripped with a serious longing to drive it. “Can we take it out for a drive?”
Garrett gives me a broad, heart-stopping smile. “Not tonight, I’m afraid. It takes a bit of shifting to get this one out and driving one of these is most fun during the daytime. But, do you really want to?”
