by Tawny Weber
“If I issue an invitation, sweetheart, you won’t have to clarify.”
Taking a moment to replenish the breath in her lungs, Rita tried to calm her racing pulse and eject from her head the vivid images of the two of them sliding together in a naked dance.
“I’ll make note of that,” she murmured, pretending she wasn’t cowed by reaching for some fruit instead of pursuing that intriguing line of thought.
“So, what’s up?” she asked after she’d finished an orange and half the French fries. A balanced breakfast if she did say so herself. “I’m not criticizing, but why aren’t we farther along?”
Something flickered in his eyes. Rita didn’t know what, or why, but she felt her defenses rise.
“I’ve got a few stops to make on my way home. Some bike shops, a couple buddies who’re interested in new rides.”
Rita knew he was talking about the motorcycles he customized. He’d always been into bikes. It must be nice, she mused, to find a niche that fit so perfectly.
“Okay,” she said, as if her agreement mattered. They both knew it didn’t, since she’d basically shanghaied this ride home. “How much longer? A few hours? Half a day?”
Not that anybody would be worrying. She hadn’t told her parents when she’d be home, since she’d been hoping to talk Benny into waiting a few extra days so she could stockpile a little more cash.
“Two, maybe three days,” Tyler said, dropping the bomb in an easy drawl.
“Two or three …”
“Extra days,” he finished with a nod, gathering their breakfast leftovers onto the tray to return to the diner.
“Days,” she echoed faintly. She grabbed the remaining apples and salad from the tray, tucked them into her bag. She’d only budgeted enough for one day’s worth of travel food, knowing she’d be well fed as soon as she got home. How the hell was she going to stretch her funds to three days?
Rita did a quick mental count of the cash tucked away in her bag. Still a few hundred shy for the payment on the victrola.
She was so screwed. Pressing her hand to her stomach, she tried to quell the panic. Somehow, some way, she had to salvage this. Because Rita Mae Cole had learned the hard way not to let herself get screwed unless she knew the pleasure was worth the price.
* * *
THEY’D BEEN ON THE ROAD awhile and Tyler was still grinning. His plan was brilliant. He’d called a few buddies to spread the word while he’d been waiting for the food. He’d delay enough to keep Rita away from Randy, who was leaving Christmas evening. If Tyler played it right, they’d get home for Christmas Eve without her catching a clue.
So what if it meant he spent a few more days in her company? It wouldn’t be a major hardship. He glanced over, his smile dimming a notch at the glum look on her face. Her forehead resting on the window, she stared out like the answer to every question in the world was written on the side of the freeway.
Should he ask what was wrong? He wasn’t supposed to care, he reminded himself. She was a big girl, well able to take care of herself. But the dejected droop of her shoulders was really getting to him.
“Hey—”
“What town are we going to?” she interrupted. She didn’t look so dejected now, thanks to the slightly manic gleam in her big green eyes. “Do you know about when we’ll get there?”
“Um …” He gauged the expression on her face, wondering if she was about to throw a monkey wrench in his plans. “Chatsworth. We’ll be there in an hour, hour and a half, I’d guess. Why?”
She just shrugged, bending over to dig into the huge tote bag she’d plopped at her feet. Resurfacing with a cell phone that looked as if it could run complex algebraic formulas, she sent her fingers flying over the tiny keys.
“What’re you doing?”
“Just … I’m not sure,” she admitted, her fingers freezing for a second as she stared out the window again. Tyler leaned forward to glance past her, trying to figure out what the hell she was staring at.
Apparently she didn’t see it either, because she dove into the bag again. This time she pulled out a thick stack of papers, puffing out her cheeks as she flipped through them. She nodded and tucked them under her thigh, then resumed tapping on the phone.
“Rita?”
“Hmm?” She stopped tapping long enough to glance over. “Oh, I’m just, well, working on a little Christmas project. It’s for my parents.”
As soon as the words cleared her lush lips, she winced and wrinkled her nose. “Sort of. In a roundabout way.”
And those confusing words were all she’d say about it. For the next forty-five minutes, over the Christmas carols belting out of the radio, Tyler peppered Rita with questions.
She was polite. She was even sweet. She texted like a maniac. She scanned the pages, somehow not getting nauseous, which made Tyler a little jealous. He couldn’t read in a moving car without tossing his lunch.
But by the time she’d settled down with the papers, a red pen and a blank notebook, he’d gotten no more out of her than when he’d started. When she began humming along to “Silent Night,” he gave up.
Thirty minutes later he left the freeway. Taking that as some kind of signal, Rita hit the bag once again, pulling out a cosmetic bag and going to work. In the ten minutes it took Tyler to reach the small bike shop on the far side of a strip mall, she’d transformed her face from naked to sultry.
He told himself he was feeling antsy because he needed to get out and stretch his legs. But since his third leg was stretching quite nicely on its own, he had to cop to self-delusion.
Killing the engine, he kept his gaze on the shop instead of looking at Rita again. “You want to come in?”
“Nah, I’ve got some things to do still,” she said distractedly. “I need to get into my stuff in the back, though. Okay?”
“Sure,” he agreed, jumping out of the truck in unseemly haste and hobbling toward the safety of men, bikes and the scent of motor oil.
After twenty minutes of BSing with his buddy, Roy, and a few biker pals, guilt set in. He’d thought Rita would have joined him by now. It was pretty damned cold out there. Telling the guys he’d be back, he headed toward the truck. Within a few feet he could see she wasn’t in the cab, so he rounded the bed.
He could barely pick her out in the crowd. Bikers were shoulder to shoulder with what looked like bankers from the S and L on the corner. Mixed in were a few gals with huge hair that he suspected worked at the beauty salon in the mall.
“What the hell …” He stared, slack-jawed, as Rita waved her hand, all game-show hostess like, over the array of vividly colored items spread across the tailgate of his truck.
“What the hell are these?” she clarified, stepping around two blondes to greet him.
Even knowing he was no better than one of Pavlov’s pups, Tyler swept his gaze over her face, now pinup-girl exotic. Her hair was still in a ponytail, but she’d done something to make it look all fifties’ movie-star flirty. She was still in the same jeans she’d worn earlier, but she’d replaced her red puffy jacket with a black studded leather one.
Tyler’s mouth watered.
“These are toys,” she said. It took him five seconds and the direction of her pointing finger to remember the question.
“Toys.”
“Sex toys.”
“I realize they’re sex toys. Why are they here? Now? On my truck?” He stared, fixated, at a foot-long, neon-green monstrosity with the head—and face—of a dinosaur.
Her laugh was all it took to rip his attention from the freakish dildo back to her. She ran her tongue over her upper teeth to hide a smirk, he was sure.
“I see you’re interested in the T-Sex—the dinosaur of dildos,” she explained, sounding like a TV commercial hawking a new model car. “Guaranteed to make your woman roar with pleasure.”
“What …”
“What am I doing with them? Selling them, of course.” She indicated the little slips of paper she’d tucked underneath each toy.
He squinted, seeing she’d not only written up descriptions, but detailed suggestions for ways to use them, along with the asking price.
Tyler was grateful the icy wind was there to cool his cheeks before the heat became apparent.
Didn’t matter, though. Rita, probably having a special radar for that kind of thing, laughed.
She leaned forward and gave his cheek a soft pat. The smooth touch of her fingers made him want to grab her wrist and nibble his way up her arm.
“Don’t worry, big boy,” she purred. “You can have first dibs. I’ll even give you a good-driver discount.”
The only thing that kept Tyler from grabbing her by that tiny waist, tossing her in the bed of the truck and showing her just exactly how good he could drive was the six-and-a-half-foot biker in studded leather who’d tapped her on the shoulder and asked the price of a set of candy-cane-styled nipple rings.
CHAPTER 4
“SEX TOYS?”
Rita tried not to giggle as she counted her cash. Tyler had been repeating that same phrase for the past half hour. Over and over and over. You’d think the guy had never seen a plastic rainbow cock ring before.
“Do you have a personal or moral issue with pleasure aids?” she asked, tucking her tongue in her cheek as she noted the sold prices on her inventory list. Woot! She wouldn’t starve on the drive home. Not too shabby considering only three of the people she’d texted had shown up. She’d sold more to the guys in the bike shop than anyone else. Maybe that’s why Tyler was freaking.
“You said this was for your parents,” he accused.
“My parents have sex.”
“With toys?”
“How would I know?” Rita set her papers aside and gave him a curious look. “Are you one of those people who think the ’rents don’t do the deed? Don’t you think your mom gets her happy on from time to time?”
His wince was almost as intense as his glare.
“Don’t.” He ground out the word. “Do not go there.”
Rita giggled. He was so cute when he got all stiff-faced and protective.
“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I heard rumor of immaculate conception where you were concerned,” she consoled. Tyler rolled his eyes but couldn’t disguise his grin. She reached over to pat his thigh. She’d intended the gesture to be friendly.
Instead she felt she’d singed her fingers. Quickly pulling her hand back from those rock-hard muscles, she grabbed the inventory list and stared at the blurry words.
A part of her was doing the jump-up-and-down scream, yelling for her to go for it. They had the next few days together, just the two of them all cozied up here in the truck. He was gorgeous and sexy, and if the high school rumor mill held any truth—which was debatable, given how easily her sister had started her own rumor to get even with Tyler for ruining her prom—he was one helluva hot lover. And that had been eight years ago. She would bet he’d improved with age.
Oh man, she was getting turned-on. It was probably because it’d been forever since she’d been with anyone. She knew guys looked at her and automatically thought easy sex. But to Rita, sex just for the sake of getting naked was like an empty gift box under the Christmas tree. Enticing and maybe sparkly fun on the outside, but a mondo huge disappointment in the long run.
And with Tyler?
Somehow, she knew if they got sexy together, she’d want to keep whatever was inside that pretty package for herself. And that it would hurt like crazy when she couldn’t.
“Why?” he asked a few dozen miles later.
Ripped from the sappy realization, she started. Had he read her mind?
“Why what?”
“Why are you carting around a box of kink?”
Rita’s lips twitched. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised,” she mused. “I had no idea you were such a prude.”
“The hell I am,” he defended, tearing his gaze from the road to glare at her. “I’m all for sex. All kinds, all ways, all places. I could tell you stories that’d …”
Rita bit her lip to keep her smile from turning into a chortle.
“Once upon a time …” she encouraged.
He shot her a long look that was obviously going for irritated. But she saw his lips twitch.
“I’m not a prude,” he reiterated.
“But you are a party pooper if you’re not going to finish that little story.”
“Sex toys. Your parents. Common ground?”
His fingers were now tapping an impatient beat on the steering wheel. Rita thought of the favor she needed to ask. Probably best to stop the teasing right about now, she decided.
“I want to get my parents this fabulous present for Christmas.”
“You haven’t already got their present?” he said. “Christmas is in five days.”
Rita narrowed her eyes. “What are you, the calendar police?”
“Fine. You found the perfect present that you haven’t bought yet. Keep going.”
Rita poked her bottom lip out. “I don’t have quite enough money yet. Which was why I was working the bar. Tips are great this time of year and I’d figured another night would’ve been all I needed for the final payment.”
His wince was worth a thousand apologies. Never one to hold a grudge—after all, she so often screwed things up herself—Rita felt the last vestiges of irritation with Tyler’s job-costing kiss fade.
“No biggie,” she said, wanting to erase that guilty look from his face. “The gal I was staying with, Shawn? She owns an erotic bookstore. She gave me a whole box of misfit toys as a going-away present.”
You had to credit Tyler. He was quick on the uptake. One glance at the inventory in her lap and he said, “So you’re selling them on the road to make up the money you lost.”
“Exactly.” She twisted to pull one knee up on the seat and face him. “But to make it work, I sort of need a favor.”
“I’m not demonstrating those damned things for you,” he yelped, going pale.
Rita grinned, the image of just how he’d look in that black leather cock ring flashing through her mind. Mmm-mmm good. She shook her head, but still reached over to turn the heater down a little.
“Nothing like that. I just need a quick stop at the next town to get a few Christmas stockings, some holiday ribbon and bows. Maybe some mistletoe. Packaging, you know?”
“Packaging,” he repeated faintly.
“Yep.” She flipped the inventory over for a blank writing surface and held up her pen. “And if you’re willing to be a total sweetie pie, you could give me a rundown of our itinerary. That way I can get the word out, drum up some interest ahead of time.”
He opened his mouth as if to answer, then his brow furrowed and he gave her a weird look. His shoulders hunched a little and he gripped the wheel tighter.
“Drum up interest? How?”
“Social networking at its best,” she explained. “My phone has apps for Facebook, Twitter and a couple others. Over the years I’ve met about a million people. I’ll tweet the location, the time and a few tasty tidbits. Then, hopefully, there’ll be buyers waiting when we get there.”
It was a great plan. From the stunned look on Tyler’s face, he thought so, too. Or maybe that was horror?
“So what d’ya say?” she asked. “Can I get the itinerary?”
“I, um, have to make some calls first. Check on the guys who wanted me to stop by, see if they still want to talk.” He shot her a look so sweet, she got a sugar rush. “I’ll hit the next town so you can do some shopping, okay? Make my calls and give you tomorrow’s stops at least.”
The smile he gave her was little-boy cute, with just a hint of something naughty beneath the surface. It was all Rita could do not to unhook her seat belt and climb into his lap.
“Sure,” she said softly, giving him a slow, sexy look from under her lashes. “Whatever you want.”
When his eyes narrowed, she ran her tongue along her bottom lip and gave a sigh. Small enough to be cute, but big enough to draw
his attention to the ample curves of her chest. Which was covered, unfortunately, in an ancient blue sweater that owed its life to comfort and warmth, not fashion.
No matter. It wasn’t as if she was going to dig into the package of sex toys herself. That’d be crazy. He was totally wrong for her. And then there was the fact that her family, who had never gotten over the prom fiasco, would kill her.
Of course, when had she worried what her family thought? Rita glanced at the list of toys she was trying to sell and winced. So she always worried about what her family thought. Which meant that until she knew she could handle whatever came up—or didn’t come up—she’d just play with the wrappings.
But, oh, sweet holiday, she was damned sure unwrapping Tyler Ramsey would be one incredible pleasure. And she was definitely woman enough to handle anything he had tucked away in those faded jeans.
The trick would be convincing him. And she’d get right on that, just as soon as she was sure she could afford what doing so would cost her.
* * *
DRIVING THROUGH THE SNOW, Tyler gratefully listened to Rita chatter. He’d damn near driven off the road an hour back after getting blasted by a major sexy vibe. But after a few zinging hot seconds, she’d put her come-hither look away and turned on the friendly charm.
He couldn’t honestly say he preferred friendly to sexy; he had to admit Rita was appealing either way.
Upbeat and gregarious, she covered topics ranging from what she’d gotten her sisters for Christmas, to who sang a better version of “Santa Baby” and how to build a perfect snowman.
She discussed his bike business, showing a surprising grasp of the bikes themselves and the Harley mystique. She talked about her myriad jobs, ranging from her stint as a restaurant critic to babysitting show dogs. From the sound of it, she’d taken jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none to new levels.
She filled him in on the friends she’d made, the people she’d connected with during her career odyssey, including the fact that she had all of them either on Twitter, Facebook or email. A huge benefit for her toy caper, he had to acknowledge.
