Hot Shot

by Denise Devine

Chapter 3

  Meg peeked through the slim opening of her front door. “You want to go out with me?”

  Denny stood on her porch wearing a black leather jacket, tight jeans and an irresistible grin. One hand rested against the frame, the other gripped a silver helmet tucked under his arm. “Why not? I can’t imagine a better way to spend Friday night than with my favorite librarian.”

  Something didn’t jive here. A couple hours ago, his night had been booked solid. She studied him warily. “What happened to your date?”

  “She’s, uh, busy.” He gave a careless shrug. “No big deal. We’re just friends.”

  That’s not the impression I got this morning, Meg thought, remembering the voice message he left for the female in question. The dreamy glow in his eyes, the purr in his voice had described a man in love. What did he want with her? The answer seemed obvious. She smiled with cool politeness. “Thanks for the offer Denny, but I don’t think so.”

  His deep, throaty laugh echoed through the opening. “Sure you do. It’s eighty degrees out here and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. What a waste to sit at home on such a gorgeous night.”

  She didn’t intend to sit at home, but he didn’t need to know that. As soon as she got rid of him, she planned to meet up with Nan and drive over to a certain local hangout to look for Tom and his...er, new fiancée. And when she found them...well, she had plenty to say. She took a deep breath. “Actually, I’m kind of busy, so—” She started to push the door shut, but it banged against his outstretched boot.

  “So, that’s all the more reason to take some time out, have a little fun. After what you’ve been through today, you deserve it. Besides,” his eyes twinkled, his voice mellowed to a sexy, tantalizing drawl as he leaned toward her, “I want to make it up to you for totaling out your wheels.”

  He sounded so convincing Meg waffled a moment then shook her head. She had no desire to be this bad boy’s temporary squeeze toy, even if he did radiate enough charm to fill the Target Center Arena. “You’ve already done more than enough for me. Thanks for the offer, but I’m not in the mood for partying.” She stared at him. “Or anything else you have in mind.”

  “I figured we’d take a ride over to Forest Bend and do some car shopping,” Denny countered smoothly.

  Oh-h-h, she thought, surprised. Then...is that all? She bit back a silly impulse to ask where he’d planned to take his date. Dinner? A movie? Probably both, she reasoned with a sniff then reminded herself she wasn’t interested in him, anyway. “You’re asking me to go shopping?”

  “Sure, why not? Dealers are open until nine.”

  “Since I have the rental, I don’t think it’s urgent to find one today. Anyway, I can’t afford a new vehicle. I plan on asking my dad to help me check out some used car ads on Monday night.”

  He leaned closer, slipping his fingers around the edge of the door. The pungent scent of leather mixed with Polo Sport wafted through the opening. “Why wait until then?”

  “My parents are at the cabin this weekend.” Oops! She grimaced, realizing she’d just helped his cause.

  His fingers slid up the door, touching hers. “Great. Then going with me will give you a head start.”

  Tiny sparks skittered across her hand, short-circuiting her thoughts. “Um...that’s not necessary.” She pulled her hand away and tucked it behind her back. My, but it suddenly grew warm in here, in spite of the air-conditioning.

  He eased the door open wide enough to expose her face. “Aw, come on, Meg. You need a good car and I know auto mechanics better than most people do. Besides, your free use of the rental probably runs out in a couple days.”

  So soon? She hadn’t considered that. She also had no idea if her dad, a portrait photographer, would be available on such short notice. He often scheduled evening appointments. “I don’t know....”

  “It’s my bike, isn’t it?” Denny shifted the helmet under his arm. “You’re afraid of motorcycles.”

  Meg averted her gaze to the driveway where a black Honda Gold Wing posed strong and proud. Just like its owner. She met Denny’s curious gaze. “It’s not the motorcycle,” she said truthfully. “It’s me.”

  “You?” He pushed the door open all the way. “Why?”

  “For one thing, I don’t know you well enough to go out with you. Besides, you already have a girlfriend.” She placed her hands on her hips, sensitive to the subject matter. “It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

  Denny chuckled, raising his free hand in a gesture of a truce. “Hey, I’m only asking for a couple hours, not the rest of your life.” He pulled open the door and strolled into the house, his gaze scanning her compact, but cozy living room. “And for the record, I’m not cheating on anybody. Like I said, she and I are just friends.” His deep blue eyes twinkled with anticipation. “Come on, Meg. Let’s go.”

  “It’s been a long, frustrating day and I—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have you back home by sunset.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, but—”

  “The Malibu costs at least two hundred a week, you know, and that doesn’t include all those extra charges and taxes.”

  “Two hundred a week?” Meg swallowed hard. She couldn’t afford that and make her house payment, too. “Well...well...” She glanced around, thinking furiously. “I guess an hour or two would be all right.”

  Denny displayed a confident smile. “Great. But you’d better change.” His gaze tumbled down her long yellow sundress. “You can’t wear that on a motorcycle. Your, ah, skirt will be flying up around your neck.”

  “I’ll throw on a pair of jeans,” Meg replied as she backed into her bedroom. “Be with you in a minute.” She slammed the door and made a beeline for the closet. The sooner they got going, the sooner she’d get back home to change again and go pick up Nan. Pulling out a stack of denims, she dumped them on the bed. Not this one, she thought, dropping the first pair on the floor, then another and another until she’d discarded them all.

  “Nice little place you’ve got here,” Denny remarked from the living room. “I like those big oaks in the front yard.”

  “I bought it on a contract-for-deed from my grandmother’s estate,” Meg said in a loud voice, tripping over the scattered clothes. “I love it here, but it’s costing a lot to bring everything up to code.”

  “Did the furniture come with it, too? I haven’t seen this corduroy stuff since grade school.”

  “Yeah, I bought it from the estate for a dollar. It’s so outdated no one else in the family wanted it, and at that price I couldn’t afford to turn it down.” She raided the closet again, tossing clothes in the air like a juggler. Three drawers and a clothesbasket later Meg found the perfect pair of jeans and a black, rhinestone-studded tee-shirt. By the time she finished dressing, her room looked like someone had broken in and vandalized it.

  “Hey, you!” Denny sounded annoyed. “What are you doing?”

  Meg poked her head out of the bedroom to tell him to cool his jets but ended up laughing instead. Across the room, Denny sat on an oversized, avocado sofa, wearing jeans and a red polo shirt. His jacket and helmet lay in a pile on the floor next to him. Mopsy, a fluffy white cat, sprawled at his feet, rolling on her back and exposing a round, pink tummy.

  Denny frowned at the wiggling fur ball. “What does it want?”

  “She wants you to tickle her with your toes.”

  He stared at Meg as though she’d suggested something obscene. “Uh-uh. I don’t like cats and they don’t like me.”

  “Well, don’t tell her that. You’ll hurt her feelings.”

  Meg shut the door again and stood at the mirror. Errant wisps of chocolate hair framed her face. What little makeup she wore emphasized her wide, amber eyes and dark lashes. In spite of it all, she looked vibrant, content, and she suddenly knew why. That good-looking, smooth-talking hot shot had worked his magic on her.

  And I sucked it up like a fourteen-year-old experiencing her first crush.

  The realization ca
ught her by surprise.

  That’s it, I’m not going.

  She yanked the back of her tee-shirt out of her pants then caught her reflection in the mirror.

  “Yes, you are,” she lectured the girl staring back at her. “If that rental has a time limit on it then you need to find another car as soon as possible.”

  Stuffing the shirt back into her pants again, she thought about riding with Denny on his bike and imagined her body tucked tightly behind him...with some of her most intimate parts pushed up against him. The thought sent a shiver straight through the parts in question.

  “Oh no, I’m not.” She wrenched the shirt back out, spied the Malibu’s keys on the dresser and shook her head. “Get serious, girl. You have to buy another car and he’s offering to help. A couple hours with this guy isn’t going to change your life.”

  With a sigh of resignation, she pulled her hair into a ponytail, applied a couple swipes of mascara and some lip-gloss. Taking a deep breath, she swung open her bedroom door. “Okay, I’m—”

  Meg couldn’t believe her eyes. Denny lay sprawled on the sofa, stiff as a cadaver with his legs outstretched and both arms spread along the backrest. Even his eyes looked frozen—wide open. In the center of his chest, Mopsy sat curled into a fluffy white mound, watching him with adoring eyes and purring faster than a drum roll.

  How sweet, Meg thought, and wondered if she’d misjudged him. Any guy who had a soft spot for her cat couldn’t be all bad.