by Rin Daniels
Nadine was late.
Later even than expected for her. She ran about fifteen minutes behind as a rule, which meant she’d either gotten lost or caught up in the crowd. They’d decided to come separately, since he’d had to set up earlier than the show started, and she’d said she’d show up around eleven, but it was nearly noon now.
“That one yours?” The friendly voice at his left jerked Lucas’s attention away from the crowd.
He didn’t recognize the older man. Buzz-cut iron gray hair, severe lines carved with what he suspected was military precision, and similar fashion to Lucas’s usual daily choices—but about two zeroes different in price tag. One of the local elite, he figured. He followed the guy’s gaze to the Cobra and nodded. “Yeah.”
The guy whistled. “You kept her pure.”
Pride flickered. “As much as I could,” he said, ignoring the urge to adjust his collar. Nadine had come by yesterday with a new checkered shirt in blue and red and a narrow black tie. She’d begged him to wear it, no questions asked.
He wasn’t that forgiving. When he asked why, she only grinned and said he’d find out.
He felt like something out of a fifties movie, which he suspected was the point. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be the only dude around with the same sense of style—or kind of woman. Although now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure any woman could compare to Nadine.
Despite himself, his fingers edged up to adjust the knot on his tie.
“What’d you put under the hood?” the man asked, glancing at him.
Lucas rubbed at his jaw. “Standard 428-cid Cobra Jet V-8.”
“Appropriate,” the guy replied, nodding in approval. “Race her yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Not a fan?”
“I’m a fan,” Lucas said with a crooked smile, “and she’s got the torque. Ford rated the Cobra at 335 horsepower, but estimates—”
“Estimates clock the real torque at 400,” the man finished. “Yeah, she was a real beast on the road. So what’s the reason you don’t show her off?”
“Same reason you don’t drive your woman ragged,” Lucas said, sliding his hand back into his pocket. “She’ll never treat you right again.”
The man shot him startled look, which crinkled into a map of fine lines as he threw back his head and laughed. “Son,” he said, turning and extending a hand, “you’ve got sense.” He clasped Lucas’s hand, grip firm, and shook it with the finesse of a business man. “Charlie Weatherby.”
“Lucas Bourdin.”
“Pleasure,” he said, and let go to fish in his back pocket. He withdrew a case that glinted in silver chrome, and plucked a business card from inside. “When they pop the hoods, I’ll be coming back around. Meanwhile, have this. I’d like to talk more with you.”
“Uncle Charlie!”
He took the card as the older man glanced over at the call. Charlie’s smile stretched ear to ear at whomever crossed the lane behind Lucas’s shoulder. “Hey, Kira. Glad you made it.”
“What, and miss the reveal of your latest fling?”
Lucas slid the card into his pocket, tongue-tied. Charles Weatherby, CEO of one of the country’s major banks, had just shaken his hand like he wasn’t some kid off the wrong block. His smile hitched, crooked.
Classic cars, the great equalizer, right?
“Uncle Charlie, you know my friends,” said the girl his new acquaintance called Kira. Lucas turned, a smile in place.
Which froze when he saw the woman standing beside her. Everything else faded. The words around him blurred to a pounding drum in his ears.
Holy shit, Nadine Sherwood was trying to kill him.
There couldn’t be any other explanation for the skin-tight pencil skirt hugging every curve of her body from high waist to knee. Maybe some people would have called the length of her skirt modest—those people were idiots. There was nothing modest about the red material stretched taut over curves made to drive him insane. A wide blue belt clasped her waist, and the yellow halter top cupping her breasts did the kinds of things for her cleavage that would haunt a man at night.
It would sure as hell feature pretty strongly in his world. Forever. Even her little black sweater thing didn’t detract from the golden skin cradled so lovingly.
Her wide blue eyes had been framed by a thick black cat-eye liner, a classic nod to an era. But what got him—what knocked his heart out of his throat and into an aching rhythm—were the victory rolls she’d pulled her hair into and wrapped with a checkered blue and red bandana. The cloth tied up around her head matched the shirt she’d given him.
She shifted in her tall wedge heels—probably steadier on the grass than her usual stilettos—and bit her bottom lip. Red as her skirt. Killer, classic red.
“Nice to see you again, ladies,” Charlie was saying beside him, and Lucas mentally shook his head. Color slammed back into the rest of the world, and his cheeks burned as he shot a glance at the ladies he spoke to.
He didn’t recognize one.
The other stared at him with dark green eyes filled with murder.
Oh, shit.
“Nice to meet you,” the tall, short-haired brunette with streaks of blue in her bangs said, and he assumed that was Kira.
“Nice to meet you,” Lucas replied, his stomach a vat of acid.
“Yeah,” Kat Harris drawled, her hands on her hips. “Pleasure.” She’d gone for retro, too, with high-waisted jeans and a flannel button-down tied at the waistband. Sassy, and way cooler than he was feeling.
Shit!
Nadine reached for his hand, and he could only swallow back a sick feeling of nausea as her fingers curled with his. “Kat, Kira, this is Lucas.” A beat. “The mechanic,” she added with a sly grin. “His car’s in the show. Isn’t that awesome?”
“Totally,” Kat said, her brick red lips twisted into a smile that didn’t fool Lucas.
Well, that was only a matter of time.
“Kira, come take a look at this Cobra,” Charlie said, gesturing the tall brunette as he strode out of the shade and towards the red car. “I’m desperate to find out if he went for the competition suspension.”
“Oh, and look inside!” Nadine called, letting Lucas go to hurry after them. “It’s all rolled and pleated leather, and the black is super shiny.” She shot Lucas and Kat a wide grin over her shoulder, winking. “I got this.”
Kat blew her a kiss. “Knock ‘em dead, sweet pea.”
Lucas waited until they were out of earshot. His gaze on the three as they gestured and chatted about what he’d always called the most important thing in his life, he said tightly, “You haven’t told her.”
Cool green eyes flicked to him. “Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I wonder,” she replied, tucking her hands into her back pockets. She’d gone for flats, unlike Nadine, and her jeans were tight-rolled in vintage style. Her expression told him nothing.
Lucas’s fists curled. He tucked them behind his back, just in case Nadine glanced their way. “What do you want?”
“What do you want?” she asked without missing a beat.
He smiled faintly. “Your debt is clear,” he said. “Let it go.”
“Yeah, contrary to what you might think, Mr. Loan Shark”—the emphasis on the title had him gritting his teeth—“this isn’t about me.”
Making a living as a loan shark taught him enough about dealing with people that he wasn’t going to fold here. “Then what’s it about?”
“What do you think?”
He glanced back at the line of cars. Nadine stroked the hood of his, her smile so wide he could feel its warmth—her approval—all the way from here. Whatever she said had Charlie laughing as Kira drew a line over her own head. Nadine’s own laughter found an echo inside his chest; his heart thundered.
Kat whistled low and long. “Dude, I have you so bent over a barrel right now.”
His jaw shifted. “Classy.”
“No,” she r
eturned, unruffled, “classy is making a living as a criminal and lying to your girlfriend about it for her entire life.”
“That’s exaggeration,” Lucas protested, but without heat. He knew what she meant—and the eyebrow she arched in his direction said she knew that he knew and wasn’t buying it.
The nerves he’d bottled inside his stomach turned over. His fingers ached from the pressure of his clenched fists.
“So,” he said quietly, studying her face. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
“Honestly?” Kat shrugged, wrinkling her nose. “I only started suspecting the other day. I’m not really surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised.”
“So?”
“So,” she repeated, drawing out the word with a dip of her chin, “I kind of get it.”
He snorted out a disbelieving laugh. “I doubt it.”
“Adam!” Nadine’s call caught both of their attention, and Lucas couldn’t help but notice how Kat’s smile softened as Adam Laramie made his way down the lane. Like most of the men, he wore denim, and his casual button down didn’t explicitly scream elite, but everybody knew the Laramie name. The sun caught on the expensive watch wrapped around his tanned wrist.
Selling that, Lucas figured, would take care of his buy-out with Johnny. Jesus, these people.
Laramie greeted Nadine, Kira and her uncle with easy warmth. He shook hands with the latter, who wasted no time gesturing at the Cobra they ogled.
Kat’s elbow nudged Lucas’s. “I kind of get it,” she said again, with obvious emphasis. “You aren’t the only one who’s done the secrets dance.”
“Yeah?” Lucas’s voice graveled, like fingers clamped around his throat and squeezed. “What’s it worth to keep them from him?”
To his surprise, her eyes rolled. “Please,” she drawled. “That ship’s sailed.” Again, her elbow nudged his, harder than the first time. He grimaced. “This isn’t a Lifetime movie, Lucas. Not everybody’s gonna get a happily ever after, you know?”
God, he knew. It kept him up at night.
This time, Kat’s smile reached her eyes. “Still, you know she likes you.”
“Too much.”
“Yeah, probably,” she chuckled. “Enough to walk out of her parents’ place.”
“Wait.” Lucas turned, angling himself so that Nadine couldn’t see his expression if she looked back. His eyes narrowed as Kat’s eyebrows winged upward. “What do you mean walked out?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“Hell, no, she didn’t.”
Kat shook her head, sighed, and patted his shoulder. “You know, some of us had to lie for a living. I don’t even know why the rest of you think it’s a good idea.”
Lucas’s patience cracked. “What happened?”
She brushed at the sleek, vintage bangs she’d styled into her hair, red streaks gleaming in the sun. “Okay, but look, you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Right.”
Her red mouth pursed. “Apparently, her parents found out she was hanging out with you. Lost their minds, laid down an ultimatum.”
His guts churned. “Shit.”
“Yeah, like that.” She shaded her hand over her eyes as she studied the scene behind Lucas, though the shade they stood it made it redundant. “Nadine being Nadine—”
“She walked out.”
“Mmhm.”
“Damn it,” Lucas growled.
Kat’s gaze flicked to him. Held. After a moment, she shrugged and adjusted his tie. Lucas let her. “Girl’s her own woman, you know.”
“Yeah, but—”
The knot she arranged tightened against his throat. “I’m saying if you like her, Mr. Loan Shark, then you better start being honest. And let her be honest, too.”
Lucas pushed her hand away before she strangled him, loosening the knot. He bared his teeth in a smile even he knew sucked. “She doesn’t know the first thing about living in the real world. What’s she going to do?”
“Don’t know.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. She shouldn’t have walked.”
“But she did.” Kat blew out a hard breath. “God, and I thought I had a weird relationship. Look,” she added when he opened his mouth, “I’m saying I’m not going to tell her, but she’s put everything on the line for you. What are you going to do?”
He didn’t know. Guilt bit so deep, he wasn’t sure how much of it bled and how much stung like relief.
She’d chosen him.
It shouldn’t have made him feel so damned good.
“Hey, Lucas, come meet Adam,” Nadine shouted, her voice tinged with so much enjoyment that his throat closed around a hard knot. “He’s asking questions in your car nerd language.”
Kat’s stare challenged him on every level.
Lucas cleared his throat. “You think there’s a chance here?”
She tipped her head. “I think so. Maybe. I mean, I guess it depends on you.”
He didn’t want to believe. Didn’t want to be the guy that stripped Nadine Sherwood of everything she loved. But as he nodded once, acknowledgement and whatever encouragement he could glean from the woman he’d once threatened for money, he adjusted the tie that didn’t need it and made his way across the lane.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance here.
But what would it cost?
* * *
She didn’t know a lot about cars. Couldn’t really tell the difference between types of gloss, and she didn’t know why Houndstooth yellow was different from houndstooth tweed. Even so, Nadine had the time of her life at the car show.
Three hours later, when the highlight event began and everybody flocked to the showpiece cars at the center, she stayed by Lucas’s red Cobra and enjoyed the relative quiet. The announcer’s voice filled the speakers, and with it came the rumbling approval of the audience as model car after car—including the Rolls Royce Lucas couldn’t take his eyes off of—was revealed.
But he stayed behind.
The hood of his car clicked closed, and he took a moment to wipe a smudge from the red frame.
Nadine studied the lean shape of his back clad in checkered plaid, admired the fit of the jeans she was so glad he’d bought—even if he had dragged his feet. The bandana he’d shoved into the back pocket hung out in perfect accessory to his rockabilly look. All he needed were thick-framed glasses and arms full of tattoos, and he’d be the poster boy for the style.
Well, and maybe a pompadour. She’d ask Kat one day if she could style Lucas’s hair.
He glanced over his shoulder. “What you grinning at?”
Was she? She raised her fingers to her lips and couldn’t stop her chuckle. “I was picturing you with a pomp and a comb.”
“I am not,” he replied, reaching out with an arm to hook her waist, “a greaser.”
“Is it too much to ask for a serenade?” She squealed with laughter when his arm tightened, and he swept her off her feet. He didn’t spin her hard, just enough to prove his point.
Yeah, he was strong. That was only one reason why she loved him.
Lucas set her feet gently back on the grass, held on until she found her balance on her high wedge heels. She slid her hands into his back pockets, which brought his hips sharply against hers. Her eyes flared. “Hey, sailor. This your car?”
His lips curved up. “Hey, pretty lady. Want a ride?”
Nadine tipped her head up, her laugh smothered in a sudden indrawn breath as he lowered his lips to hers. He didn’t kiss her deeply, not with the red lipstick she’d worn in homage of his Cobra, but his mouth nuzzled hers with infinite tenderness. The muscles of his sides flexed between her arms.
Her fingers scraped over a thick wad of cards in his back pocket. Nadine drew them out, easing her head back to ask, “What’s this?”
He glanced down at her find, then folded his own larger hand around it. “Just some cards and stuff.”
Her grin widened. “From collectors?”
“Yeah.”
She let him pluck the cards away, shove them back into his pocket. But her arms tightened around his waist to hold him steady. “For, like, the car version of a babysitter’s club?”
He snorted. “I don’t even know what that is.”
Yeah, he probably wouldn’t. Nadine couldn’t contain her excitement as she bounced on her toes. “Does that mean this was a total success?”
“Partial,” he countered, but she knew better.
She caught his tie in one hand, tugging on it sharply. “Was it fun, Lucas Bourdin?”
His mouth quirked at a corner. “Maybe.”
“Was it awesome?” she demanded, pulling harder.
This time, when he smiled, the dimples at his cheeks deepened. “Maybe,” he repeated.
She wrapped his tie around her fist, slowly, inexorably drawing him closer. “Who’s the best?”
He bent, one hand splaying at her lower back. “You’re the best,” he replied dutifully. Then, with a leer, “Maybe.”
“Jerk.”
He walked her back a step. “The best jerk?”
“A jerky jerk,” Nadine replied, breathless. The way his thighs pressed against hers did funny things to the rest of her. The kind of funny things she couldn’t reveal in public, and this was definitely public. The crowd mustered at the center breathed out a collective exclamation of awe, and she wanted to echo it.
Not because of some car.
Lucas guided her back another step, and the backs of her knees bumped against the fender of his car. His eyes twinkled in wicked amber.
Chills ran up her spine.
Her sex pulsed an echoing refrain to her scattered heartbeat.
God, he was sexy.
“What are you wearing today?” he asked, one eyebrow arching. His gaze slid to her bright yellow halter, skating over the golden hue of her breasts in slow, thorough appraisal. She was rather proud of her bombshell look today. He hadn’t said anything about her matching bandana, but the heat that filled his eyes when she caught him looking had done more to warm her than the sun blazing overhead.
“A skirt?” she hazarded.
“Mm.” Very gently, he placed the tips of his fingers over her décolletage. Her flesh burned where he touched. “And under it?”
