Honk if You Love Real Men

by Lora Leigh

  “Please don’t scrape the car,” she said, becoming anxious as the nose of the convertible tipped a cone.

  “Turn the wheel a little to the left,” Jesse directed. “We have to get your rear end clear of traffic.” Hell, yeah.

  A wary “Eeeep” whistled between her teeth, but she complied. The car coasted to a stop, the right side within inches of the barricade. Jesse and Tea stayed close as the delayed vehicles streamed by.

  “Let’s pop the hood,” Tea said when the flow of traffic had switched to the other lane.

  Jesse looked into the pit. The foreman had stepped up to a vantage point to watch them, one meaty hand wrapped around the frame of the earth mover. Jesse lifted a fist in acknowledgment, flashing his fingers. Five minutes. “Uh, Tea. We need to get back to work.”

  “We can spare five minutes.” Tea smiled at the woman behind the wheel.

  She did the grateful eyelash flutter of the helpless female. “I don’t know what’s wrong. The car is kept in tip-top condition.”

  “Lemme take a look.”

  “Thank you.” She reached for the lever and Tea disappeared behind the hood.

  Jesse couldn’t keep his eyes off her any longer. “I’m Drum and that’s Tea.”

  Her face tipped up. Her mouth pursed expectantly as if she had to savor her words before she spoke them. From his vantage point, she was all eyes and lips and honey-colored skin. Bare shoulders and arms, more than a hint of rounded cleavage in a plunging neckline, and firm naked thighs revealed by an excessively—and successfully—short skirt. Even her kneecaps were provocative.

  Her mouth opened. Lips so pink and ripe, they seemed almost obscene, if only because of the thoughts they put in Jesse’s head of what he could do with them.

  Tea’s head poked around the side of the hood. “That’s no way to introduce yourself to a lady.” He nodded at her. “I’m Frank Williams, ma’am, and he’s Jesse Drummond.”

  The blow-job lips curved into a smile. “Estrella,” she said. “Pleased to meet you, Frank.” Her eyes widened at Jesse. They were dark blue, liquid as the pond at his grandpa’s farm, where he’d once skinny-dipped at midnight, never again so easy and free. “You too . . . Jesse.”

  He nodded. Keeping it cool.

  “Shew.” She fanned her face. “It’s hot out here in the sun.”

  No hotter than you. But that was what she wanted him to say.

  An awkward silence swelled, as heavy as the heat rising off the pavement.

  Tea’s head appeared again. He shot an encouraging look at Jesse. “Sure is, ma’am. Damn hot. Pardon my French.”

  “Please call me Estrella. I don’t know how you stand it, sweating in those orange vests.” Her eyes drew a line down Jesse’s arm to where he’d loosely clasped his hands over a thickening erection. He hadn’t been this unable to control himself since his teenage days as a walking hard-on, when he’d been driven half-crazy by something as simple as the flex of muscle in Jenny Crocker’s smooth calf while she crossed her legs in third-hour English.

  No wonder he’d never learned his subjunctives.

  Tea nodded again at Jesse. “I brought water. Offer some to the lady, Drum.”

  Jesse found the bottles where they’d rolled to a stop against the convertible’s folded roof. There was a bag of groceries, a bucket of cleaning products and a ziplocked bag from the dry cleaners in the back of the car. He moved forward again and held out one of the dripping containers to Estrella.

  “Thanks.” She took the bottle and rolled it against her neck, then pressed the cold weight between her breasts. Her shoulders shifted and she let out a soft little moan that was so obviously erotic, his balls tightened. “That feels great.”

  He stared, fixated as the first time he’d opened a Playboy and seen a naked woman. Her nipples were bullets, shooting down his best intentions. Damn. That thought alone proved that he’d lost it.

  Almost angrily, he twisted off the bottle cap and downed half the bottle in one long drink before he went and handed the remainder to Tea, who muttered behind the hood, “What are you waitin’ for—get her number. I can’t stay under here forever.”

  Great. The man was a fifty-three-year-old matchmaker in Timberlands and fluorescent orange.

  Jesse returned to the driver’s side, bending closer with his hands propped on his knees. Their eyes were on a level now, and he was able to appreciate every nuance as Estrella’s lips ovaled around the mouth of the bottle. She drank, gulping and swallowing with relish until she caught his eye and became flustered.

  She sputtered. “Bad news?” she asked, wiping a dribble of water off her chin with the back of a hand. When he didn’t respond—impossible with a a strangled throat—she prompted, “About the car?”

  Time to cut and run.

  “What did you do?” he asked in a conversational tone. “Loosen a plug wire just enough for the car to stall?”

  “Wha—?” Her jaw snapped shut. He heard her teeth click.

  “You wouldn’t be the first,” he said.

  Her chin shot up, making the sable ponytail flip. “Does the trick ever work?” she purred, watching his face through slitted eyes as she held the bottle between her breasts again, making them appear even more plump and full.

  Surprise. He’d been sure she’d deny the ploy, but maybe she wasn’t as frivolous as the rest of them. There was an attractive weight to her, a solid sensibility beneath the centerfold figure and flirty eyes.

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  Her moistened lips pursed. “That’s no fun.”

  “Welcome to my life.”

  She leaned her shoulder against the car door, looking at him closely now, the false note abandoned. “Hmm, I’d almost think that’s an invitation—if you weren’t so humorless.”

  Humorless? Maybe so. Most of the unessentials had been worn down by the grinding desolation of prison life. But he didn’t need humor to give her what she wanted.

  Estrella recoiled. Something in his eyes, he realized.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve made a mistake.” Woodenly, she handed him the water bottle. “Forget this happened.”

  He straightened. Just let her go, his head said. The rest of him wasn’t speaking, only reacting on instinct to her round sexy body. Fortunately, his reason prevailed; he had experience hanging on by his fingernails. “Tell me what you did to the car and I’ll fix it.”

  “I didn’t—” She swallowed, not looking at him. He felt the loss in his gut. “Okay, you caught me. Check the distributor wires. That should do it.”

  “Done.”

  “I gotta apologize for Drum—Jesse, that is,” Tea said to Estrella while his partner fixed the car and slammed the hood with more force than necessary. “The guy’s been in—” Tea caught himself, aided by a glare from Jesse. “The guy’s lost his touch. He forgets his manners around nice ladies like yourself.”

  “I’m not so nice,” she mumbled, watching Jesse through her lashes. “And I certainly do apologize for the trouble I’ve caused.”

  “It’s no bother helpin’ a pretty girl.” Tea’s chest expanded. “Been a long hot day and this was the best part of it.”

  Jesse hadn’t known that Tea was such a sweet-talker. The rambling stories about his football glory days and the head cheerleader girlfriend might even be true.

  “Let’s cut this short.” Their boss was barking at them from the shallow pit.

  “G’day, ma’am,” Tea said, tipping his helmet as he departed.

  Estrella took her hand off the key to do a finger wave.

  Jesse hesitated nearby. “Go on and see if the car starts.”

  She looked as if she wanted to speak, but she simply nodded and turned the key in the ignition. The engine came to life and she goosed it for emphasis. Vroom, vroom.

  “Thank you,” she said, blinking her big shining eyes at him. Her expression had sweetened. Either she’d already forgotten her moment of alarm, or he’d miscalculated the reaction, the way he tended to, seein
g slights even where there were none.

  “Look,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been so—”

  “No, you were right,” she blurted. “The car—that was just a silly ruse. Please don’t tell your partner.” Her face puckered. “I don’t want him to think badly of me. It was just that I saw you working here, and you really caught my . . . what I mean is, there’s no denying you’re sexy as hell, but still, I don’t know what got into me—”

  Her voice cut off and they looked at each other with an awareness that zinged like the current in an electrical line, each of them certain they were thinking the exact same thing.

  Him, getting into her. Burying himself deep in the tight wet welcoming heat of her pussy.

  Her eyes were glassy. The apples of her cheeks reddened. The tip of her tongue had flicked out to lick her top lip and was apparently stuck there.

  She was waiting. For him. To make a move.

  He didn’t. He couldn’t.

  “I’m there.” She pointed to a high-rise apartment building just off the main boulevard, a tower of glass and steel. “The tenants have an outdoor pool, if you want to, um, cool off after work.”

  He resisted the steady pull of attraction. Futile. “You don’t want—”

  “But I do.”

  He tried again. “You don’t know—”

  “All the better.”

  Aha. Despite the hints of her being a nice girl, she was looking for a straight-up fuck. Check your emotional needs at the door.

  In that case, he could, even though he shouldn’t.

  “Tonight, maybe?” she suggested, gunning the engine again. The vehicles in the right lane were moving, and she switched on her blinker, intending to join them. Her face still seemed youthfully innocent, but her mouth was inviting. Inciting. “If the sign isn’t wrong about your, you know, equipment.”

  “What? What sign?”

  “That one,” she said, giving one more sassy ponytail toss as she drove away.

  He looked in the direction she’d indicated, toward the warning and safety signs that dotted the construction zone at frequent intervals. The bottom of his stomach dropped out, but dammit if his cock didn’t swell, ready to meet the challenge.

  The sign read:

  MEN AND EQUIPMENT WORKING.

  Chapter Two

  The encroaching smog from the inland valley had smudged out the sun an hour ago, leaving the sky the dusky purpled blue of a bruise, Estrella winced when she rubbed her arms. Her skin was tender to the touch. She felt pummeled, as if the unanswered stretch of restless anticipation had manifested as a physical pounding.

  She stood on the spacious balcony of the sixteenth-floor apartment. Her view to the pool, a blue rectangle set in an illuminated white concrete frame, was obstructed only by the dusty brown fronds of a row of palms. The binoculars had long since been abandoned.

  Her shoulders slumped. Jesse Drummond had left work hours ago. He wasn’t coming.

  She should’ve known. Her attempt at seduction had been a laughable failure. He’d seen right through her with his diamond-cutting gaze.

  Her fingers curled around the pitted edge of the stone railing cap. His forbidding demeanor should have been off-putting. Honestly, it had knocked her off balance for a minute or two. But she’d been drawn straight back to him, inexorably. Beneath the hard surface was an intensity that fascinated her.

  Maybe too much. She didn’t want another “passionate” man in her life. Her volatile ex-husband had left her with an appreciation for calm routine and quiet.

  But Jesse . . .

  He would be an experience of short duration. Flame to her moth, and afterward she would be burned free of the craving that had taken hold at the first sight of him.

  She leaned over the railing, searching the pool area one more time before she gave up the last sliver of hope.

  A figure moved out from beneath the palms. Her heart leaped. Was that him?

  There’d been little activity at the pool after five. She’d waited there for more than an hour, her skin prickling at every sound. But no one had arrived except a couple of caftan-clad women carrying cocktails. They’d sat under the cabana awning and played cards, sending her arch glances until she’d scurried away, certain they suspected her of loitering under false pretenses.

  False pretenses? She was full of them.

  Didn’t matter, not this time.

  Estrella pushed aside the misgivings as she watched the solo newcomer wander around the pool’s perimeter. Had to be Jesse. She straightened, pressing her knuckles against the ache in her chest, barely holding back a shout of greeting. Excitement wasn’t sophisticated. She wanted him to think she did this all the time. Or at least now and then, she amended, catching sight of her less—than-refined self in the gleaming glass of the sliding door as she went inside.

  “Never mind.” She closed and locked the slider, careful not to leave fingerprint smudges.

  The descent of the elevator took forever. She hurried through the atrium in the lobby to a side corridor that led to the pool. But once she was out the door, she hesitated. Could she actually go through with this? Have sex with a virtual stranger merely for the physical satisfaction?

  She wasn’t old-fashioned, only inexperienced. Well, perhaps old-fashioned too. She’d been raised by strict but loving parents, who’d given her little reason to rebel. When she’d arrived at the age where sexual feelings were as inevitable as a rising tide, Tony had come into her life, overwhelming her with his devotion. There had been little question that they would get married as soon as her parents allowed.

  But now Tony was gone. Her parents were far away. At last, she was free to make her own decisions.

  “I want this,” she whispered, creeping through striated shadows toward the pool. The air was clotted with the astringent scent of chlorine and the overly sweet honeysuckle that climbed the thick block wall surrounding the pool.

  The sound of splashing water reached her. She stopped, no longer hidden, but safe in the darkness beneath the palms.

  She sucked in her nostrils. It was Jesse.

  As she watched, he bent and swished a hand through the water, making it lap at the border of Mexican tiles. His hair swung forward against his jaw, smooth and silken, shining clean. Of course. He’d gone home to shower and change. His shirt was a crisp white cotton, worn loose and untucked with only a few of the buttons done up and the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His dress shirt, she thought, touched that he’d worn it for her.

  He stood tall, searching the facade of the building. She half raised her hand, an involuntary I’m here! Her voice was frozen in her throat.

  With only a cursory glance around him, Jesse stripped out of the shirt, kicked off his shoes. In one motion, he lowered his pants, either taking his briefs with them or proving that he’d gone without, because when he stepped out of the discarded garment he was entirely nude. And head-to-toe glorious.

  Estrella shrank to a crouch. Not to conceal herself. Simply because no strength remained in her legs. She was drained of all but the ability to stare.

  No, he was too grand for that. She must behold him.

  Behold his beauty. The animal grace. She’d thought he’d looked good sweating on the job with tight jeans the perfect foil to his blatant masculinity. Now he was unrestrained.

  And awesome.

  Maybe she was unworldly and too easily amazed. But there was no denying her reaction. Desire was a thunder inside her.

  Jesse stood poised at the edge of the pool for only a second or two, but to Estrella the moment was huge. He was starkly beautiful, a masterpiece of carved muscle and taut sinew. Golden-brown skin was set off by the black furring at his chest and between his legs, where a thick penis hung, its size and potent virility drawing her gaze like a magnet. In that one instant, its proportions swelled and she realized with a mouth gone dry that he was already . . . already . . . ready. And that she could have him if she dared. Have his fully aroused cock thrusting inside her, fill
ing her to the hilt, touching deep, driving her wild.

  Estrella swallowed. Beads of perspiration sprang up all over her body. The congestion of moist heat turned her armpits and panties into jungle zones. Her thighs slid against each other as she leaned forward, hands clasped, neck extended, eyes wide.

  Jesse Drummond wasn’t a fantasy. He was real. He no longer looked like an unattainable model posing for effect. She could see now that he wasn’t sculpted, oiled and plucked to perfection. His body was hard, veiny, scarred. As unequivocal and severe as the bleakness in his eyes earlier in the day, when she’d become scared and pulled away from their flirtation.

  He’d acted then like she hadn’t affected him. But hard evidence: he was here.

  And even if the risk was great, she had to find, somewhere inside herself, the confidence to be his match. The reward of that would be unforgettable.

  Jesse dived into the pool. What luxury.

  But as he swam its length, the warm water parted to his stroke like a woman’s thighs. He soon realized that he preferred the ocean. Wild and untamed, an element to conquer. Swimming pools were too civilized, although they had their uses.

  He reached the wall and flipped, gliding underwater before he surfaced and returned to an overhand stroke. His muscles warmed, stretched, blood pumping through them instead of sinking straight to his erection.

  When he turned his head, he saw her through the rippling water, walking at a diagonal to the pool, on a course to meet him at the opposite end. So—she had decided to join him, even after the scare tactic of his strip-down. He put his head down and swam hard, welcoming the pull of it in his shoulders. If he didn’t burn off some of his energy, he’d drill a hole right through her.

  He surfaced a short distance from the wall. She was poised to flee, though she stayed put, wearing the same clothes as before—a sort of knitted halter top that cupped her breasts like basketball nets and the creased denim miniskirt. The hem of the ruffled flounce rose higher across her rounded ass, making him want to reach around and flip it up. Her legs were slender and brown. Her feet were bare.

  She wet her lips. “Hello.”