“Do you need help?”
“No.”
That was all she said until the food was ready and on the table. Once she started eating, she had even less to say. If that was her way to avoid conversation, it was fine with him. The less he knew about her, the better.
“This is so good.”
“Thanks.”
“How did you do these?” She held up some grilled red peppers and carrots with her fork.
“You just toss them with olive oil and seasoning and throw them on the grill in a pie plate. The potatoes are just cut up with garlic and butter and wrapped in foil. It’s easy.”
“But it tastes so good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
She smiled. Then her expression changed, and she dug into her food with even more gusto.
“So, it’s just you and your dad then?” Jordan asked, deciding he liked conversation with her better than awkward silence.
“Yep.”
“Where’s your—”
“She died. Car accident.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Sass shrugged.
“When did it happen?”
With her head down, she just kept jamming food into her face. “Long time ago. My sixth birthday, actually.”
“God,” Jordan couldn’t imagine what his life would have been like growing up without his mother, his only ally. “You must miss her.”
Shrugging, she said, “I don’t know. Hard to miss someone you don’t really remember.”
“And Buck? Is he off at a rally somewhere?”
“Nah,” Sass said with her mouth full. “He’s on a cruise in the Caribbean.”
“Really?” Somehow he had a hard time picturing Buck Hogan on a cruise. Not that he’d ever met him, but given Sass’s personality, a cruise and a Hogan just didn’t go together.
Setting down her fork and knife, Sass said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s the third cruise this year. It’s like he’s going through a late midlife crisis.” She grinned, but he could see something dark in her eyes. It looked like worry. “Most guys just buy themselves that hot rod they’ve always wanted.” She shrugged. “But Buck’s always had nice cars. So I guess this is his way to rebel.” She took a sip of beer and then resumed cutting another piece of meat. “Weird way to rebel if you ask me.”
It was obvious she was worried about her father and listening to her only served to remind Jordan that the woman seated across from him was off-limits. He would not give in to whatever it was that was between them. Not again.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t watch her. There was something refreshing about the way she consumed her food. Maybe because she didn’t care. She simply enjoyed herself and didn’t sit there picking at the meal, worried that one more bite might add another pound to her hips, like Lecia, his ex. Although, with Sass’s slight figure, she certainly didn’t need to worry about her weight, she…
“Why’re you staring at me?”
“Huh?”
“You’re watching me instead of eating. Why?”
“Sorry.” Jordan chuckled, “I didn’t mean to. It just seems like you’re enjoying your food and I—”
“This isn’t a date, Michaels, and I’m not having sex with you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Her candor was so unexpected, he almost asked, “Why not?” But he stopped himself because he’d been trying to convince himself of the very same thing. “That wasn’t what I was thinking.” Liar!
She watched him warily while she chewed. “Just so we’re clear. I don’t date. We’re just having dinner, okay?”
“You don’t date? What do you mean, you don’t date?”
She swallowed her food and chased it with the beer. “Does that statement really require an explanation? Seriously, Michaels. Don’t you find the whole scene just so…stupid?”
“Sometimes, I guess.” He thought of the last couple of dates he’d gone on. Total failures. “But, if you don’t date, how do you meet men?”
“I only go out with guys I already know.” She started to tap her leg under the table. “One day we’re friends, you know, buddies, and then the next day we decide to take it further.” She shrugged. “That’s how it always goes for me.”
“So, what are we?”
Now Sass was tapping her fork against her plate like it was a snare drum.
“Are we buddies, Sass?” He was goading her, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about her nervous energy that spoke to him on a hormonal level.
“No. We are definitely not buddies. You’re a…client.” Her legs were hopping, like she was warming up for a race.
“You okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay. Jeez .” She stood up and carried her plate to the sink, where she stood with her back to him, looking out the window, hands stuffed in her pockets. Finally she called out, “Do you still want pie? It’s chocolate cream.”
“Did you make it?”
“Who do I look like? Betty Crocker?”
Something had gotten her riled up. Was it talking about dating? “I’d love some pie.”
Sass started rifling through the drawers, making the silverware rattle, but suddenly she stopped, and, for half a second, the room was silent. “You organized the drawers.”
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“No.”
She stared absently at the drawers. Then she put her hands on the counter and groaned.
“Sass? Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine.”
She seemed anything but fine, which Jordan understood because despite all his vows to keep his hands to himself, he longed to move up behind her, lift the back of her shirt and touch her skin all before turning her around to kiss that impertinent mouth of hers.
He held onto the bottom of his chair as if that would keep him in place.
After a few more minutes she returned to the table with a flushed face and a plate in either hand.
“Here.” She slid the plate of pie in front of him.
“Thanks.”
Sass sat down slowly and they dove into their pie. He barely tasted it, he was too busy watching her. As much as she enjoyed the steak she seemed to be enjoying the pie even more. After a few bites she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and forked pie into her mouth. “Mmmmm.”
“It’s good, huh?” Jordan eyed her quizzically.
“Ver-ry good.” Her jaw shifted back and forth as she sucked the thick chocolate slowly down her throat. Her cheeks were flushed and—holy hell—what was she doing now? Wriggling around in her chair like that?
When she moaned, Jordan set his fork down and stood. In two steps, he was at her side. He dragged Sass’s chair around to face him and squatted between her legs. Her eyes popped open and she stared at him, her breath moving in and out of her chest—fast—forcing her to arch her back and show off her tight nipples pushing up hard against her tee. Her lips were full and parted like some invisible lover had kissed her—hard—and she rotated her sweet little hips in her chair.
He touched her cheek, and she turned her face into his hand, nibbling the edge of his finger.
That was it.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips roughly against the thin cotton of her T-shirt.
She moaned.
He stopped fighting the attraction and gave in. Her nipples had been teasing him all night and he needed to taste, to touch. Standing, he yanked Sass up with him, fitting her slight form within the circle of his arms. She molded herself into him, as he captured her lips. Man, could she kiss. Yes, she could cuss and swill beer with the best of them, but her mouth was also seductive and incredibly responsive. Giving and taking, nipping and licking until, for the third time since he’d met her, Jordan found he could not control himself.
“Damn it, Sass.”
“Shhh. Don’t think. Just do.” She was panting heavily now.
Do? Oh yeah. He was going to have to do her right there on the table or on the floor.
His reaction to her was immediate and all consuming. Jordan moved his hands down the front of her, enjoying the contrast of her soft breasts and her taut tummy and then unsnapped the button on her jeans. It was at that moment that he heard it. A very, very faint humming sound.
He paused to listen. “Do you hear that?”
“Hmmm?” A small crease formed on her brow.
“That buzzing? Do you hear it?”
“Oh!” Sass’s eyes and mouth flew open. Her face turned a delightful shade of red. “Must be the lightbulb.”
“Could be, but…”
She jumped away from him and fumbled with something in her pocket. Then she grabbed her keys off a hook by the door and blew out of the cabin like a cold north wind. Jordan was too stunned to chase after her. Not to mention, his jeans were so tight it was uncomfortable to move. Besides, he could already hear the engine of Sass’s car revving followed by the sound of gravel flying. Like that she was gone and he was left feeling completely unsatisfied.
…
By the time Sass arrived home, she was fit to be tied. Of all the harebrained, idiotic schemes, this one topped them all, and there was one person to blame. Libby. Sass jabbed the numbers on the face of the phone like she was squashing bugs and then tapped her toe impatiently as she waited for Libby to pick up.
“Hello?”
“It doesn’t work!”
“Sass? Is that you?”
“Of course it’s me.”
“What’s wrong?”
“That damned butterfly doohickey is a piece of crap.”
“Really? That’s funny. I tested it and it was functioning, but I can get you another one if you—”
“No! What I mean is, it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do.”
“You know, Sass, every woman is different so one kind of stimulation doesn’t always work. If you want—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Sass sighed in exasperation and unfolded the instructions for the device, straightening out the creases against the counter top. As if Libby were in the room with her, Sass pointed to an item in bold print. “See? Right here. It says in the instructions that the butterfly can be used to relieve sexual tension. That’s a lie.”
“O-kay.”
“It didn’t relieve anything. It just made everything worse. That’s false advertising, Libby.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Sass scowled. “The damned thing backfired, that’s what happened.”
“Specifically. What happened, specifically?”
“I’m not giving you the gory details. God! It’s too humiliating.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.” Libby’s voice was patient, which frustrated Sass even more. She just wished Libby would yell back at her so that she could stay mad at her.
“Ah, shit, Lib. Don’t listen to me. It’s all my fault. I’m the fuckup.”
Libby was quiet for a moment and then started talking again, but Sass didn’t listen. She hung up the phone and plodded to the bathroom, undressed, tossed the stupid appliance in the trash, and stepped into a nice cold shower.
Chapter Eleven
For the next few days, Sass took her angst out by spending long hours on City-boy’s car. She sanded the entire body down until she could see all the high and low spots, the dents, the patch jobs, the flaws. She was surprised to find that her handiwork with the iron wasn’t the only thing wrong with the body of the vehicle. There was some shoddy work done in a couple of places where someone had used chicken wire covered by a ton of fill and paint and tried to pass it off as solid steel. Unprofessional. She was surprised that Carlyle’s would try to get away with that kind of craftsmanship and wondered how much Jordan had paid for it.
Sass was intent on returning the car in better shape than he’d bought it. The right front fender and the whole back panel needed major repairs and the parts weren’t readily available from their supplier. If she wanted to fix the car within a reasonable time frame, she’d have to make the parts herself.
It was difficult, heavy, time-consuming labor, but Sass loved the craftsmanship of it because she wasn’t just repairing, she was creating. Using her sense of touch as a guide, she visualized the way the metal ought to sweep and adjusted the Pullmax reciprocating tool to pound out the metal into the approximate shape. Then she compared the new pieces to the original and made minor alterations. The next step was removing the old pieces and welding the newly crafted metal in place with a MIG welder. The whole process took days and required help from both Al and Manny.
The damage she’d inflicted in the span of ten minutes took countless hours to repair but in a warped way, her penance was therapeutic. Carlos avoided her, though she’d seen him sneaking out of the bay once or twice when she’d come back from a break. What was he doing? Checking up on her?
Funny it didn’t bother her when Al and Manny commented on her progress or offered to lend a hand but maybe that was because the two long-time mechanics had always treated her as an equal in the shop.
After endless hours of filling and coarse sanding, the car was in the best possible shape she could get it. Next, she covered it in primer and spent the a day and a half block-sanding. The routine of repeated sanding, priming, and filling that always made Sass’s arms feel like they might fall off, should have kept her occupied, but, no matter how hard she worked, no matter how much time she spent in the shop, she couldn’t stop thinking about sex. More specifically, sex with Jordan Michaels.
It was too much. By Sunday night, Sass was at her wit’s end. She thought about calling Libby, but after the butterfly debacle, she decided against it. She’d shared more personal stuff with her best friend in the last week than she’d shared over the duration of their friendship. She needed to go back to figuring shit out on her own. Getting Libby’s advice had resulted in one thing. Disaster. Of course, she didn’t fare much better on her own, but at least when she made her own decisions she knew who to blame when she messed up.
Which was why she definitely couldn’t see Jordan again. Being in his company was way too dangerous, seriously impairing her already questionable decision-making skills. But it was so hard. All she could do was think about him, reliving every moment they’d spent together. The way his hand held the back of her head, tilting her the way he wanted her. How solid he was beneath his clothes, like the steel of a classic car, indestructible. The way he tasted, touched, how he felt inside of her.
Dammit! She couldn’t go on like this.
That left her with one option.
From the back of her closet, she pulled out the nondescript brown bag Libby had given her for her birthday. Sass was tempted to chuck the whole damn package in the bin but it was that never ending unsettled feeling that encouraged her to dump the contents on her bed. She stared at the assortment of bizarre shit. At least Libby hadn’t included Harvey, which was a little too much for a simple girl like Sass. There was something called the Silver Bullet. Sass took it out of its packaging. It was long and bullet-shaped but much, much larger. When she flicked the switch at one end, the bullet started vibrating. Was it weird that she was twenty-three years old and this was her first vibrator? Sass had no idea.
Okay, what was next? Yep, there was a dildo. Sass examined it from all angles. It had some weight and flexibility to it. Hmm. Interesting.
She set the dildo beside the vibrator. Next was a bottle of massage oil. Sass opened it up and took a sniff. It wasn’t too bad. At least it wasn’t flowery smelling. In fact, it had sort of a nice musky scent to it. Kind of reminded her of Jordan. She quickly capped it and put it aside too. Finally, there was a fancy box called the Wicked Weekender Kit. Inside was a jar of Tingling, Edible Pleasure Potion—whatever that was—and an assortment of edible oils and lubricants and a silky-soft feather. Okay, so the kit was something intended to share with a partner.
I bet Jordan would like it.
No. No more Jordan.
She put the weekender kit and
the massage oil back into the bag.
So her choice for tonight was either dildo or vibrator. Eeny-meeny-miney-mo, catch a sex toy by the toe, if it hollers “I’m a dildo”…stupid. She grabbed the vibrator, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed.
Now what?
She turned the vibrator on but the soft whirring made her uncomfortable so she turned it off again. She waited, chewing on her lip, feeling completely ridiculous. Okay, she was a grown woman. She could do this.
Sass closed her eyes, letting her mind wander to the thoughts that had preoccupied her now for days. Her mind took her back to the Pit, to slow dancing with City-boy. She turned her head into the pillow and rubbed her cheek against it like it was Jordan’s chest. Breathing deeply, she remembered how he smelled, clean with a splash of lemon and licorice that reminded her of summer nights on the beach. She felt his hand on her back, lifting the hem of her shirt and the incredible sensation of his fingertips on her bare skin.
Do you know how sexy it is that you don’t wear a bra?
She heard his voice, clear as anything and suddenly she was in his hotel room where everything moved in fast forward, clothes flying, hands fumbling, the two of them stumbling naked to the bed…
Jordan’s lips on her chest. Ah, yes! She’d never had a guy kiss her like he did. So nice.
Why do you have to be the sexiest goddamned woman I’ve ever met?
She arched her back on the mattress, aching for his touch.
You make me want to come so fast.
“I like it fast,” she murmured.
Even in her imagination it was fast, Jordan moving on top of her, inside of her, suddenly flipping her over so Sass could ride him, arching and fondling her breasts as he grasped her hips, controlled her, driving into her from below.
Dammit, Sass. I can’t stop. I need to…
“Holy shit,” Sass cried. “Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!”
Quivering, Sass rolled onto her side, curling her legs up to her chest, her eyes still closed and hand tingling from holding the vibrator. Weird. She couldn’t even remember turning it on.
She switched it off, still fully enmeshed in her fantasy, imagining herself getting up, her legs wobbling as she struggled to get dressed.
Mustang Sassy Page 11
