by Drea Stein
“Nice,” was all Colby said, and she nodded as she turned the car around and headed back toward the Randall house.
All too soon, they were there, and she pulled up behind the flatbed tow truck and killed the engine.
“I think I’ll let you drive it up there,” she said as she started to get out. He was there again, not quite quick enough to open her door, but close enough so that she almost stumbled into his arms. They came around her, and he smelled of soap and leather, and he looked down at her, his blue eyes dancing.
“Did you like it?”
“I loved it,” she breathed, and before she knew it, his head was coming down, his mouth hovering just inches above hers. Everything seemed to hang in the moment, and she saw a flash of desire in his eyes, felt his arms tighten around her. She wanted to kiss him, on some level knew she’d been thinking of it all day—what it would be like to pull him to her, to run her hands through the curly hair at the back of her neck.
She wanted to be that woman, the sexy, carefree one who let a cute guy kiss her just because, but she froze, reason and good sense rushing in, telling her to be careful, that Colby was dangerous.
It has been all too easy, this whole day and the way he had so smoothly orchestrated everything. He was a master at this game, and she knew how easily she could fall prey to a pretty face. From the setting sun, to the beautiful car, to the warm, buttery feel of his leather jacket underneath her hands, it was just like a movie. One kiss. Couldn’t she do that?
Except she didn’t believe in things like that. And she had too much going on to be distracted by a pretty blue-eyed boy with a hot car. At least, that’s what she told herself.
He felt her sudden resistance, and stopped. His hand, which had been cupping her chin, dropped slowly down her jawline and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Then there was a space between them, and the connection was broken.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said, his voice even, courteous. There was nothing sexy in what he said, but still her body responded to him, and she wondered what had just happened, what she had just done.
“I should really be getting back to the office,” she said, falling back on her favorite excuse.
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “I have to get these cars back to the shop.”
“Thanks again for letting me drive it.”
“Anytime, Tory,” he said. His eyes held hers, but he made no move toward her, as if reassuring her that they could go at whatever pace was comfortable for her. She knew she shouldn’t say it, even as the words were coming out of her mouth, but she couldn’t stop herself, feeling some irresistible need to not let him go completely.
“You know, umm, I haven’t found a good body shop, and my insurance company said I could take it any place, as long as I got an estimate, so … I don’t know. Do you think maybe your shop could do it?”
He looked at her, and his blue eyes sparked with amusement again.
“How about you tell me where the car is, and I’ll send a truck over for it? My guys are good, and the rates are competitive.”
“Really? I mean, you would do that?”
“We work with insurance companies all the time. It would be my pleasure.”
His voice had been cool and professional, up until that last word, and her whole body shuddered at the thought of what his pleasure might mean to her.
“Why?” she asked, because she needed to know.
He took a step in, but there was still a space between them. He looked down at her as he put a hand on her arm. She didn’t try to evade it, just let his warmth seep in.
“Because I’m a nice guy. Because you work for Chase and he’s a good customer. Because I like you and I want to see you again, and if fixing your car is the only way to make that happen and show you I’m a stand-up guy, well … then, it would be my pleasure. Because I’m good at this kind of stuff and I want to impress you…. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.”
“I get the idea,” she said, her mouth dry. Ok, so he had wanted to kiss her and probably still did, but he wasn’t going to push it, instead going for the slow and steady route. She wondered why all of her sudden her stomach did a jump and a flop. Because the idea of Colby being patient was sexy, really sexy as hell.
“Oh, hi,” Phoebe said, and Tory jumped back. Colby didn’t, just let go of her arm and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking his usual unflappable self.
A faint smile brushed Phoebe’s lips as if she knew exactly what had been going on.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I need your advice, Tory,” Phoebe said.
“Ladies,” Colby drawled, “looks like my truck is here, so if you’ll excuse me.”
Tory might have imagined it, but she could almost swear she could see the cowboy hat on Colby’s head as he touched his hand to his forehead, smiled and swaggered off into the dusky light of the spring evening.
Chapter 13
“He seems like a nice guy,” Phoebe said around the pins stuck in her mouth. “Not bad-looking either.”
“Be careful you don’t swallow those,” Tory said. They were in Caitlyn Randall’s dining room which, despite the crystal chandelier, paneled wood walls and silver candlesticks, looked more like a giant closet than anyplace where you’d want to eat. Stacks of clothing, jewelry and other accessories were heaped all over the table and chairs. It appeared more than a little chaotic, but Tory was certain that Phoebe knew exactly where everything was.
Phoebe laughed, took the pins out and stuck them in a pincushion shaped like an owl. Phoebe was cleaning up and setting up for the next day’s shoot, and Tory had been guilted into helping her, even though there were about a hundred other things on her to-do list. At least the gaggle of models was gone. They had been a very chatty bunch.
“I thought he was gay,” Tory said.
“I was talking about Colby, not Blaise,” Phoebe said with an eye roll, referring to the photographer’s new assistant.
“Oh,” Tory said as if it had been an obvious mistake.
“He let you drive his car,” Phoebe pointed out.
“It’s just a car,” Tory said primly. As if that beautiful piece of machinery could be just a car. It had been wonderful, a work of art, and driving it had been truly exciting. And not just because of the car.
“The Jaguar?” Caitlyn Randall appeared, her voice a whisper as she carried a fuzzy blue bundle in her arms. All of a sudden, legs and feet kicked and moved all at once, and what sounded like a giggle erupted from a toothless, gummy mouth.
Tory watched as Phoebe dropped everything and went over to Caitlyn, her eyes shining with interest.
“May I?” Phoebe asked, and Caitlyn handed baby Luke over to Phoebe, who immediately began cooing and making silly faces, which earned her a reward of bubbles and raspberry noises.
“Works every time,” Caitlyn said with a smile. “You can hold him next, if you want?” she said with a devilish smile as she came over to where Tory was standing.
“I’m better with computers than with kids,” Tory said quickly, but she had to admit that Luke Randall was pretty darn cute, as babies went.
“I used to think that, too—I mean, about being better with spreadsheets—but then you have one of your own and you find yourself figuring it out. Until they start crawling, and then you don’t know what to do.”
“Well, I plan on waiting a while,” Tory said as she stacked a folded shirt on top of another one. Really, it looked like the entire autumn line of the North Coast Outfitters catalog was here, in every color and size and then some.
“You never know,” Caitlyn said, “when it might happen. How was that car ride?” Her gray eyes were alight with interest.
Tory took a deep breath and closed her eyes, remembering the feel of the road, the hum of the engine, the way Colby had shot her a smile, the boyish grin of delight on his face, a mirror of the expression that had to have been on hers.
“Amazing,” she finally answered.
�
��He must like you,” Caitlyn said, her fingers hovering over the display of jewelry laid out on the table. It was costume, but Tory could see Caitlyn considering some of the pieces for her collection.
“How do you mean?” Tory said as if she couldn’t have cared at all what the answer would be.
“When I asked if I could drive the car, he said no,” Caitlyn said and shot Phoebe an I-told-you-so kind of look.
“He said no, to you?” Tory couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. Caitlyn Randall was a local legend in town, a force to be reckoned with. Typically she used her power for good, like when she had convinced Tory to re-do the Maritime Museum’s website as a favor, or when she helped to sponsor healthy eating initiatives for school kids, or even today, when she loaned a friend her gorgeous house for a photo shoot. Tory couldn’t quite imagine anyone saying no to her.
“Well, not in so many words, but he said that you were up first.”
Caitlyn looked over at Phoebe, who was still making silly faces at Luke. “So, is this going to be in the next catalog?” She held up a necklace.
“It will be, and I’m sure that Chase would be happy to give that one to you when the shoot is done as a thank you,” Phoebe said.
Caitlyn smiled. And Tory shook her head, still not believing that Colby Reynolds had had the wherewithal to tell Caitlyn Randall no. Or what it meant that he had said yes to her instead.
Chapter 14
Colby looked at the green Mini. Cute car. It wouldn’t take much to fix it, but he wanted to make sure the car got a full tune-up while it was here.
“That her car?” Joe came over. His arm was still in a sling, and he was irritable, his usual verbal tenacity whittled down to mere grunts. Still, he had done a great job at keeping the shop running on schedule while Colby had been at the photo shoot. Answering the phone and dealing with clients had been a different story. He needed to find a new assistant, but it kept falling off his list.
“Yes, I arranged to fix it for her. After we fix the dent and the mirror, I want a full tune-up, and a detail job on the inside, shampoo the mats, shine the leather, the works,” he said.
Joe grunted. “Insurance doesn’t pay for all that, you know.”
Colby turned and looked at him.
“Don’t worry, boss. It will get done.” Joe held up his good hand in acquiescence
Colby nodded his thanks and turned to head back to his office. He couldn’t stop thinking about Tory and what had happened when they had finished their drive. He had wanted to feel her body close to him, had wanted to push her up against the door of the car and kiss her breathless. It had been a long time since he had wanted to do that to anyone.
But she had hesitated, and he had pulled away to see about a million thoughts racing through her head, not one of them anything he could read.
Usually he felt comfortable about what women wanted and whether or not they wanted him. Truth be told, most had. He’d been a race car driver – briefly, but he’d had his moment in the spotlight. Fast cars were chick magnets, no doubt about it. Of course, a hot car tended to attract a certain type of woman, the kind, for better or worse, who was looking for a fun time and a fast ride while it lasted. Kayla had been one of those – only there while he had been in the center of the action. Once he had decided to take a step back and work on building something lasting, a real business - she had disappeared. She was currently hooked up with some sort of trust fund kid who was trying to make a name for himself on the Grand Prix circuit.
He was over hating her and now truly wished the best for her. Since Kayla, he’d kept his relationships simple, no strings attached. It had allowed him plenty of time to build his business and avoid any complications.
In the past year, though, he’d been thinking more about finding someone he wanted to get complicated with, but no one remotely like that had presented herself. Until now. He kept thinking of her, of the mane of hair begging to have his hands in it, her intelligent, liquid eyes flecked with gold, that regarded him coolly and with reserve. It figured that the first woman who had piqued his interest was one who seemed to want nothing to do with him.
Colby stacked some papers on his desk and smiled. Well, he was used to getting what he wanted, and he didn’t have to play fair. He’d left her a little present, and he imagined that even the coolly analytical Tory Somers might be more than a little amused by it.
Chapter 15
The next morning, when Tory went down to the parking lot, delighting in the crisp spring air, she found her car gone. She would have been in a panic, but in the spot where she had parked was another car, a classic-looking, midnight blue Ford Mustang with a white racing stripe down the hood. She was puzzled, but then she saw a note taped to the window. “Open Me,” it said, and she did. There on the seat was a little box with an envelope.
It was addressed to Tory, and she smiled as she slit open the envelope, her heart hammering in anticipation. In bold, thick, dark marker, Colby had written, “Your insurance pays for a loaner. Know American muscle cars might not be your type, but hey, live a little. I lent you one of mine. She’s not quite an antique, but if nothing happens to her, she might be one day. Have fun. I’ll give you a call when your car is ready.”
He had signed it with a simple C, and there was a P.S. below. “And if you’re not Tory, you’re in big trouble…. Just put the key down and walk away….”
She laughed out loud at that and ran her hand over the black leather interior. She opened the box, found the key and sat down in the seat, sinking into it. The car was probably from the seventies, and its dashboard was unbelievably plain, compared to newer cars.
She fumbled for a moment, then found the keyhole. She gave it a good twist, and the engine turned over. The sound was loud and throaty, truly the roar of a muscle car. Not her type at all, but there was something about the growl of the engine that made her want to forget about work and head out on the coast road. She had a sudden thought that it would be more fun to go with Colby, but then she sighed it away.
Giving her a cool car to drive was a nice gesture, but it didn’t matter because she wasn’t going to screw up her chances at the big time by complicating her life with a relationship. At least that’s what she told herself as she pulled out of the parking lot with a little more force than usual, sending a wave to the surprised-looking couple who were out for an early morning stroll, enjoying the spring sunrise.
She cranked the windows opened and let the fresh morning breeze stream through. Oh yes, Tory thought as she roared through town toward the office, she could get used to this kind of ride. Maybe Colby deserved a thank you for this, after all.
Chapter 16
“Since when did you start driving a Mustang?” Jake Owen bumped up against her as Tory got out of the car. Her hands were full of an assortment of bags, some from the grocery store and some from the home improvement store.
Tory looked up at his cropped brownish-blond hair as he squinted down at her. The sun was setting, and its long, lingering rays were lighting up the whole waterfront.
“Since my car got smashed up,” Tory said as she tried to pick up the strap of her laptop bag with just her thumb. “And not by me,” she added before Jake decided to make some comment about women drivers.
“Want some help?” Jake asked, his voice light with lazy laughter.
“Do I look like I want some help?”
“I don’t know. Do I look like I might like some of that dinner you’re whipping up?” Jake waggled his dark, strong brows at her suggestively.
Tory snorted but gladly hooked some of the bags onto Jake’s outstretched arms.
“I’m cooking for Phoebe and Lynn, and if you would like to discuss wedding dresses over white wine and shrimp scampi, be my guest.” They walked along the boardwalk and up to the steps that led to the top floor apartments.
Jake shook his head. “I don’t suppose you could just send a plate next door? Shrimp scampi goes great with beer and the game, right? Jackson’s comi
ng over, too.”
Tory shook her head as she fumbled for her key.
“We’ll see. Can’t you just order pizza—you know, like every other guy?”
Jake bobbed his head up and down, leaning against the railing that lined the walkway outside the adjoining doors of their apartments.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I am actually tired of pizza. Please have pity on me.” His eyes were big, imploring, and he looked as if he wasn’t above begging.
Tory pushed open the door and waved toward the counter so that Jake knew where to put all of the stuff.
“What about your mom? Is she still cooking for you?”
Jake shook his head. “She’s refusing to. I think she hopes I’ll get hungry enough that I’ll move back home.”
“You’re not going to, are you?” She and Jake had made a pact, over more than a few beers several months ago, that they would truly and finally move out on their own. Not together, of course, but when Lynn and Jackson had moved in with each other, two apartments in town had suddenly opened up, and she and Jake had jumped on them.
He looked at her and laughed. “Are you kidding? Nothing says ‘loser’ quite like living with your mom.”
Tory raised an eyebrow. Jake might have lived with his mom, but you couldn’t call him a loser, not when he was gainfully employed running his own construction company.
“What’s in it for me if I make you dinner?” Tory asked.
Jake shot her that grin—the cocky, I-was-the-star-of-the-football-team-and-I-know-it grin, the one that totally didn’t work on Tory because football players so weren’t her type and because she’d known Jake forever, even when he’d been scrawny and gangly and only wanted to go fishing.
“I don’t know, what would you like?” He said with a leer, but a playful one.
Tory shook her head. “Don’t even think about it.” Recently Jake’s cheesy innuendos had gotten a lot more suggestive, but Tory didn’t have any trouble fending them off. Jake just wasn’t her type, she thought, as an image of Colby with his blue eyes and leather motorcycle jacket flashed before her eyes.
