by Audra North
She’d stayed in the bar for hours, riveted. The men sitting near her had eyed her, but hadn’t actually bothered her, so at some point she’d allowed herself a beer instead of club soda and tried not to hate herself for having become a grown woman who had to sneak around to avoid getting into trouble with her mother.
For the moment, watching races would have to be enough to make her feel like the person she wanted to become. The fast cars, the energy, the crowd, were the complete opposites of all those restrictions she’d lived under her entire life. She’d leaned forward every time the camera panned over the crew chiefs, packed atop the pit boxes. The sportscasters had zoomed in on the Hart Racing pit box at some point and she’d seen Grady sitting next to some guy she didn’t know, both wearing headphones and watching the track intently.
She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off Grady. In fact, she’d nearly reached out to stroke the TV screen mounted over the bar, catching herself just before she actually raised her hand and looked like a fool.
Now, sitting in the Hart Racing parking lot in the early morning light, it dawned on Annabelle that Grady hadn’t looked very happy to be at the race.
But if he was so unhappy, he wouldn’t be doing that job, right?
You mean like you and your mother, or you and the obscene number of pies you baked yesterday, or you and that teaching job, or you—?
“Shut up.” This time, she said it out loud, then took a deep, calming breath. Despite the daunting obstacle of money, she kind of liked the thought that she was responsible for something. Every dollar she earned was a step closer to freedom. To buying herself back.
Maybe herself was the person she wanted to be. The someone significant.
The realization excited her, and the amped-up, too-big-for-her-skin feeling propelled Annabelle out of the car. She slammed the door behind her after she got out, the sound echoing through the nearly empty gravel lot. There was only one other car here, which she recognized as Grady’s truck. Maybe he’d opened up the office already and wouldn’t mind if she was a little early. At least she could get it over with, this anticipation of something new.
Something exciting and thrilling and arousing …
She wasn’t sure if she was talking about the job, or Grady.
On the left side of the garage, there was a glass door set at the top of a short flight of wooden stairs. She headed that way, her heels sinking into the gravel as she walked, making her steps a bit wobbly. She’d worn steel-toed boots to work every day at Donnie’s Auto Repair, but since she’d come home, she had to admit that a part of her liked being feminine again. And she especially liked the way Grady had responded to her in a way that made her feel like a woman.
She headed up the steps to the landing, and when she pulled on the door handle, it swung quietly open. The vestibule was dark when she walked inside, the carpet muffling the sound of her steps, and for a moment she wasn’t sure what to do. She wasn’t supposed to be here for another twenty minutes. Should she go back out to her car and wait?
As she stood there, trying to figure out what to do next, she became aware of a weird, rhythmic smacking sound coming from somewhere else in the building, coupled with a machine-like hum. Maybe Grady was working on a car. Maybe this would be a chance to show him that she knew her way around an automotive shop. Maybe it would be a chance to flirt with him some more …
Bad idea, Annabelle. Don’t make the mistake again of putting your mouth where your money is.
She had to remember that, or she’d be living with her mother for the rest of her life.
“Grady?” She pitched her voice a little louder than usual toward a corridor that ran off to the left, where the sound was coming from, but there was no answer.
She wavered again, debating whether to wait or to go seek him out, but before she consciously registered what was happening, the restlessness took over and propelled her forward.
Chapter 4
Grady ran like he was running for his life.
His feet slapped the treadmill hard, over and over, as the wailing strains of The Ramones screamed through his headphones. Days like this, he felt like he could run for hours, fueled by all the pent-up stress and frustration inside of him.
Inevitably, though, he just ended up exhausting himself and feeling sore the next day.
Fogerty had annoyed the hell out of Grady all weekend, but he’d also brought Lee to a third-place finish and Kerri to a first—a fucking first. The whole team had gone wild, clapped Fogerty on the back, and called him a miracle worker.
Fogerty seemed to be working out, despite Grady’s reservations, which meant that Grady would be able to really get things moving on Carbon Works, and the promise of being that much closer to reaching his dream had propelled him back into the office on Sunday after he’d landed at the airport.
But there, he found that the 3-D printout of his test muffler had gotten interrupted somewhere along the way, leaving a flaw in the design that rendered the part useless. He’d had to start it all over again. At least when he’d looked in on the printer an hour ago, things were still moving along smoothly, but the process wouldn’t be finished until after lunchtime. Most of a day lost.
On top of that, he’d woken up this morning from a dream about Annabelle and felt like he’d been hit over the head with a sack of flour. Confused and blinded and … really fucking horny. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since.
He wanted her, badly. It wouldn’t leave him alone, this intense arousal he experienced whenever he thought of her and the way she’d looked when he’d seen her last week. She looked like a porned-up version of a beautiful 1950s housewife, but in the end her physical appearance wasn’t what was holding his interest like this. No. It had been that spark in her eyes and that confident way she’d held his gaze when she’d told him about managing Donnie’s shop.
That’s what had wormed its way into his brain and refused to get out. And he was going to have to face her again this morning, struggling to rein in his lust the entire time.
In the end, he’d decided to work off a little of his tension before she arrived. As a result, he’d been running since seven o’clock and the odometer on the treadmill read just over five miles. Around mile two, he’d been sweating so hard that the only solution was to rip off his shirt and use it as a towel to keep the salty moisture out of his eyes.
But he’d kept going.
Although now he should probably get off the treadmill and go shower. Even his hair was soaked with sweat, the moisture no doubt turning the light brown strands dark, and the veins on his forearms were standing out. He wanted to keep running, but Annabelle would likely be here soon, and he had a feeling that even if he ran around the world and back, he wouldn’t escape the hot, wound-up desire he had for her.
His playlist moved on to some classic George Strait, interrupting his train of thought. He slowed his running to a cool-down jog, but movement in the doorway to the exercise room caught his eye. He jerked his head around and saw her.
Annabelle. Standing at the threshold, gaping at him, her mouth halfway open as she stared at his bare chest. Everything in her face read like heat and sex and want, and it nearly made his body go haywire. His skin tightened and his blood felt like it was bouncing out of his body.
Forget the company he was starting. This was the promise of fulfillment. This was the dream he wanted most at the moment.
He barely managed to slam the emergency stop button down before he went careening off the thing, then stood for a moment, taking her in. He’d thought a run would help bring down this desire for her, but it hadn’t seemed to work. The only message his brain seemed to be coming up with was that she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. A dark skirt draped over her beautiful hips, showing off those long, slim legs, while the blue blouse she had on intensified the color of her eyes …
Which were currently fixed on his chest, so hungry-looking that her gaze was practically consuming him.
Fuck.
He couldn’t take this. He wanted to be near her. Had to.
He pushed off the treadmill and started walking toward her.
“Grady!” She sounded out of breath, like she was the one who’d just run five miles. “I-I’m so sorry to intrude. I didn’t mean…”
She trailed off, but she hadn’t stopped staring at his body. Now he was less than a foot away from her, and the way she was taking him in, her eyes all big and hot and desire-filled, was pushing that tight, pounding feeling even lower.
He took another step toward her, memory of the way she’d pressed against him in the foyer shooting along his nerve endings and the images of her from his dream last night racing through his mind.
Then—holy shit—her hand came out and touched his bare chest …
And he was done for.
His arm whipped around her back and yanked her to him, the need to possess her overwhelming everything else.
Annabelle. Mine. Woman. Mine. Take. Mine. Mine. Mine.
It became a chant, the only thing he could think as he brought his mouth down to hers.
Mine.
She tipped her head back to better meet his lips, her hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shoulders.
Mine.
It was so good. Incredible. Her lips were soft and her body fit against his so perfectly, her hips pushing into his and making his arousal grow. And, oh, yes … there was no hesitation as she opened her sweet, wet mouth to let him in, his tongue stroking over hers and making her moan.
Hell, yeah. He pulled her even tighter against him and walked a few steps forward, until her back was up against the wall by the door and the both of them were writhing against one another, his sweaty body rubbing all over her nice, clean dress as their kiss grew deeper, filthier, until—
“Oh my God!” Annabelle had torn her mouth from his and gasped the words while pushing against his shoulders. Pushing him away.
Shit.
He wheeled away from her, shaking out his damp shirt and yanking it on over his head in a flash, covering himself while silently cursing how aggressively he’d just acted. What must she think of him? He was supposed to be interviewing her, not backing her up against a wall and nearly wrapping her legs around his hips.
He couldn’t seem to think straight when she was around. And he was still aroused, damn it. The way she looked, with her lips all kiss-swollen and her blouse rumpled, wasn’t helping.
That’s not her fault.
Of course not. It was his fault. But that didn’t stop him from wishing that she’d reach out and touch him again, even though his shirt was back on.
She blinked as though coming out of a daze, and suddenly her cheeks were bright pink, as though she’d only then realized what they’d just done.
He forced a smile, trying to look casual. “Hey. Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen minutes.”
Great explanation. Hey, you surprised me into sticking my tongue in your mouth?
But before he could correct himself, she shook her head. “Oh no. Oh. I’m the one who should apologize,” she said weakly. “Traffic wasn’t as bad as I’d expected and I figured I’d just … pop in early.” As she spoke, she slowly straightened, pulling that loose-limbed posture back into something more professional. Closed off.
He hated it. He wanted her open to him. In every way.
Except no way could he start that again. This was already awkward enough with him about to interview her for a job. It didn’t matter if he was leaving Hart Racing. He didn’t want it to be weird or, God forbid, have her feel like she had to kiss him or be shut out of the job.
He should take his cues from her and ignore it. Act professional and pretend that their mind-blowing kiss hadn’t just happened. Fine.
“Why don’t you head into my office—” He gestured down the hall—“while I get cleaned up? I’ll be with you in just a few minutes.”
She swallowed hard enough that he could see her throat work, that beautiful throat that just begged to be stroked and nipped and—
“Okay.” She nodded, pulling his attention back into the present. “I’ll see you in a bit then. Enjoy your shower.”
From the way her ears pinked, he knew she hadn’t meant it like it sounded, or at least the way he interpreted it, like he should pleasure himself in the shower. Which he wanted to do, but she didn’t know that.
Did she? Had he read her return to professionalism correctly, or did she want to kiss him again as much as he wanted to kiss her?
It was hard to tell. And it was confusing the hell out of him.
That shouldn’t matter for a job interview, idiot.
Right. He made himself smile politely. “Great. Help yourself to coffee, tea, whatever you want. There’s a kitchen just past my office.” At this point, his smile was more like a grimace, and he was speaking through clenched teeth, feeling the need to find release so badly that he could barely keep it contained.
She started walking backward, toward his office, eyeing him like he was some kind of dangerous animal. “Sure. Thanks. See ya.” By then she was almost out of sight, and he watched as she spun on her heel and practically ran.
He took a moment to collect himself, then headed out, too, moving in the opposite direction, bracing himself for what was probably going to be the coldest shower of his life.
* * *
Oh my Lord oh my Lord oh my Lord.
Annabelle practically ran into Grady’s spacious office. The room was well-lit, with a set of floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall that overlooked the garage area below and another windowed wall that offered a view of the grassy lot on the side of the building.
Too bad her vision was too clouded by a lust haze to enjoy it. That kiss …
Wow. She’d never had a kiss like that. One that had made her feel needy and needed at the same time, ready to hike up her skirt right then and there and let him have her against the wall.
She should have been shocked to realize that she would have let him do it. Her lips were still tingling and her fingers were practically twitching to feel his skin beneath their tips once more. But she wasn’t shocked at all. In fact, she found herself rather unfazed by the realization that Grady made her want things she’d never even considered before that kiss, as though she’d been ready for something like this for a long time.
He was hotter even than she’d imagined. His arms were sinewy and strong, and his chest and the lines that outlined his stomach muscles were so well-defined that they looked like a path specifically built for her to run her tongue along. Too bad she’d had to settle for using her hands, instead.
That thought made her smirk to herself. Who would have thought that she’d start her morning off like that?
She’d found Grady shortly after heading down that corridor, his body moving with so much controlled grace that she’d been unable to move for a moment as she just stood and watched him. That strong jaw, his harsh breaths—he’d been wearing headphones, which was probably why he hadn’t heard her call out from the vestibule—and the absolute concentration on his face was breathtaking.
She’d gotten lost in her fantasies, wondering what it would feel like to have a man like that on top of her, moving inside of her with the same driving focus that he was showing on the treadmill. He was sweating hard, his body slick with it, and it made her breasts tingle and her clit pulse. It had been impossible not to stare.
By the time she realized how obvious she was being, he was hauling her against him and making her want … oh, so much. She’d wanted him to lift her skirt, to rip her pantyhose apart and thrust deep and hard inside of her and—
“You didn’t want any coffee?”
Annabelle jumped and whipped around. Grady stood just inside the door, dressed in a Hart Racing polo shirt and a pair of chinos, his hair still damp from the shower. She could smell the soap and shampoo from where she stood, having wandered to the far wall of windows without even realizing it.
Her cheeks felt hot.
Could he tell that she’d been daydreaming about him? Could he tell that she’d just had the dirtiest sex fantasy of her life while standing in his office … and it had starred him and her and the wood-paneled wall in the hallway?
“You okay?” He frowned a bit. “Listen, about just now, I was thinking about it in the shower—” He cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes for a second on a sigh, then opened them again. “What I mean to say is that I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I—”
“I’d love some coffee,” she blurted, cutting him off. She didn’t want any more apologies. Not for that kiss.
He blinked at her, and she could see the flash of paralysis that hit him, no doubt thrown by her abrupt declaration.
But he recovered quickly enough and simply nodded an acceptance, then asked, “Sure. Cream? Sugar?”
She shook her head. “Just black.”
He whistled. “That’s hard core, Annabelle.”
I’ll show you hard core if you just come a little closer.
The thought surprised a giggle out of her. Not just because she knew she didn’t really have the guts to say something like that out loud—hardly hard core—but because if he actually did it, the truth was that she’d probably be too overwhelmed to do anything more than just lie there. During that kiss, all the sensations warring in her had come to a head, making her gasp and push him away just to get a handle on her arousal, and the way he’d looked at her …
Like she’d been a mistake.
So she’d pretended nothing had happened, and he’d been all too eager to play along.
It probably meant that she was terrible at kissing.
Maybe you just need a little more practice. I bet Grady would help you with that.
She snorted in amusement at her own thoughts.
Grady gave her a bemused look. “One black coffee, coming up.” He walked back out, and she found herself checking out his butt as he left.
