She Who Dares

by Jane O'Reilly

  Nic closed her eyes. ‘Just tell me you can fix it.’

  ‘I can fix it,’ the woman said, with all the fake cheer of a kid’s TV presenter. ‘But you can’t keep the blonde. To be honest, I wasn’t convinced it was going to work anyway.’

  ‘So what do you suggest?’ Nic wasn’t sure she wanted to take advice from someone who only decided something was a bad idea after it had gone horribly wrong, but what else could she do? She’d promised herself a professional hair colour for the first time in her life, and that’s what she was going to get.

  ‘How does chocolate cherry sound?’

  ‘Like a pudding.’ There was nothing else to say. Nic felt like her lungs were being crushed in a vice, and what air she could get in tasted of hairspray. She gripped the edge of her seat and bowed her head. The next few minutes were spent in silence as the rest of the foil was stripped away. Her hair was washed, more cold goop was brushed onto it, another coffee delivered, this one with two Amaretti biscuits instead of just one. Clean cotton wool was tucked behind her ears, her head wrapped up in a cling film turban, and she was set under a heater to cook.

  ‘Cheer up,’ the hairdresser said, giving Nic’s shoulder a squeeze and meeting her gaze in the mirror. ‘Didn’t you tell me you were getting a new business partner? Maybe he’ll be astonishingly fit and have a thing for brunettes.’

  ‘Yes, and he’ll spend all his time stripped to the waist and smeared with oil, showing off his ripped torso.’

  ‘Really?’

  Nic sighed. ‘No. Most likely he’ll be middle aged and wearing slip on shoes.’

  ‘Don’t you want him to be fit?’

  An easy question, Nic knew, when you were glamorous and preened. She’d bet this woman hadn’t double-stuffed her bra all the way through secondary school, and didn’t have to get undressed in the dark. ‘I don’t care, as long as he knows one end of a car from the other.’A horrible thought sneaked into her head at that, but she pushed it away. Had Ella sold her share of the garage to Sebastian? No. It couldn’t be. The idea was nuts. Either the chemicals slathered on her scalp had seeped into her brain, or the heater had fried it. Okay, so he was Ella’s ex, and he had turned up at the garage asking for her stepsister by name, but that didn’t mean anything.

  Sebastian was the last person Ella would sell to. Wasn’t he?

  Chapter Two

  ‘The house has six bedrooms, four and a half baths. The swimming pool is heated, of course, and there is also a fully equipped kitchen and wine cellar.’

  Sebastian unzipped his jacket and strolled towards the back of the house, leaving the rental agent scrambling to catch up with him. The thick white carpet silenced his steps as he wandered through into what he assumed was the living room. A leather sofa that looked like a giant marshmallow sat to one side, leaving plenty of space for the marble podium and stripper’s pole that rose out of it, and the pink velvet drapes sparkled.

  ‘Is it all like this?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said the rental agent blandly, smoothing down his tie.

  Perfect. ‘I’ll take it.’

  ‘Do you want to see the rest of it first?’

  ‘No.’ Sebastian moved across to the sofa, dropped on to the seat. ‘I want a three month lease.’ He fixed his gaze on the man, daring him to argue. He didn’t. ‘Starting today.’

  ‘Absolutely, Mr Prince. There’s just the small matter of references, and a deposit, and…’

  Sebastian held up his hand to silence the man. ‘I’ll pay for the three months upfront. In cash.’

  Within ten minutes, the rental agent was gone and he had the keys in his hand. Funny what happened when there was cold, hard cash on the table. Shrugging out of his jacket, Sebastian tossed it on to the marshmallow sofa and set about exploring the rest of the house. As promised, there was more pink, more leather, and more tacky. Lots more tacky. Naked gold mermaids frolicked in the bathrooms, the master suite had the obligatory mirror over the bed, and there were love hearts everywhere.

  He’d been off the circuit for a month, and it was time to do something about it. His attempts to persuade his boss, Fernando, to give him a drive had so far proved unsuccessful. It wasn’t helped by the fact that Fernando had hired Morgan as the team’s psychologist, and she was refusing to budge and say he was fit to drive.

  Sebastian cursed, but the thought of his bossy little sister made him grin, as always. He wondered what she’d make of the pink palace he’d just rented for himself, what Freudian spin she’d put on it. Probably say it was a desperate attempt to return to the womb or something equally stupid.

  No, he had no desire to return to his childhood, thank you very much. But he did want to get back in the driver’s seat, and as Fernando had proven as immoveable as Mount Everest, he’d decided to try a different tack.

  One look at their poster boy working at a backwater garage in a tiny village in Cornwall, living in a pink porno palace, and the team sponsors would freak out. It was not an image which sold aftershave, or watches, or designer suits. No way would Fernando risk having the sponsors pull the plug.

  Sebastian found his way to the kitchen, which was shockingly normal, apart from the huge wall mural of two tiny dogs with huge alien eyes and big pointy ears. He filled a glass with ice cold water from the tap, downed it in one.

  Although he had every intention of working the situation to his advantage, Ella’s phone call had come out of the blue and he couldn’t help wondering if she was in trouble. Her absence from the garage only compounded that feeling. And why had she left that scatty woman in charge? He couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew her from somewhere, but he was damned if could place her. Those big dark eyes and buttermilk skin were oddly familiar.

  They’d also had a striking effect on his libido.

  He hadn’t come to Lostwithiel with a woman on his to do list. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t room for one. Okay, so their first interaction hadn’t been smooth. Between the tinfoil helmet, that big cape thing she’d been wearing, and the flash of strong, toned legs, he’d found himself a little distracted. He remembered the way she’d smelled when she’d leaned in to take the keys. Subtle and natural, with a hint of the metallic top note that he associated with hot metal and oil. Sebastian shook his head. He’d probably been imagining it. Only fantasy women smelled like a V8 engine.

  With a bit of luck, Ella would be at the garage when he went back at two and he’d be able to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. She was the exact opposite to her mysterious acquaintance, he thought. The light to the dark.

  And then it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

  He knew those eyes. And those legs. She’d come stumbling into the bar at the motor show where he’d first met Ella, hugging an alloy wheel to her chest. Ella’s sister.

  Nic. Who, according to what Ella had said, was a very talented mechanic.

  She’d lied when she’d said they hadn’t met.

  Now why on earth would she do that? Checking his watch, Sebastian considered his options. Hang around the porno palace or go back into the village and find out the answer to that question?

  It was a no brainer.

  He wouldn’t come back. Definitely not. Straightening the last spanner in the tray, Nic gently pushed it closed and pulled out the one underneath. A set of polished steel sprockets gleamed up at her, reflecting her face and her new, dark curtain of hair.

  Her heart kicked a little at the sight of it, and she wondered how long it would take to get used to. The colour emphasised her pasty complexion and made her look like an alien, all black bug eyes and pointy chin.

  And it didn’t match the Corvette one iota. If she was going to win Misses and Motors, it wouldn’t be with that particular hair and car combo. A rethink was on the books. As soon as she could think, that was. Seeing Sebastian again had completely addled her brain.

  She put her palm against the top of the tool box, leaned her head against her hand and shut her eyes. Just make it past two o’clo
ck, she told herself. As soon as she was certain he wasn’t going to show up, her heart would stop thundering and her stomach would finish its gymnastics routine. She’d be able to stop thinking about Sebastian and Ella, get rid of the sick jealousy that always swamped her whenever she thought about the two of them together, and get on with her job.

  Nic watched the clock, wanting the time to hurry up so she could get this over with, yet wishing desperately that it would stretch out a little longer. She put her tools on the trolley and went into her office instead, needing some sort of simple task to keep her hands busy, preferably one which wasn’t likely to cause serious injury. Paperwork was safe, right? She lifted a pile of unfiled forms from the red plastic tray on the desk, dropping them a heartbeat later as pain sliced through her little finger.

  No, apparently paperwork was not safe, she thought, popping her finger in her mouth and wrinkling her nose at the taste of blood. Any sort of injury to her hands and she wouldn’t be able to work. Health and safety was more than just a bad joke as far as Nic was concerned. In the end, she occupied herself by cheating at solitaire on the computer until the tiny clock in the corner said 2.05.

  At 2.07 she let herself breathe.

  It was a mistake. ‘Hi.’

  The voice from the doorway was all male, a little husky, and that one simple word moved over her like hot smoke. Her toes curled up inside the soft cover of her boots, and her skin flushed like she was sitting on an overheated engine. ‘You’re here,’ she managed, getting to her feet and wedging her hip against the battered wooden desk to keep herself upright. ‘Right. You’re here.’

  ‘I did say I would be,’ he replied smoothly. ‘Ready to go?’

  Nic plastered on a smile. ‘Of course.’

  The bike leathers had gone, replaced by jeans and a navy blue polo shirt that had his team logo printed slap bang in the middle of his left pectoral and the buttons undone.

  She’d accompanied men on test drives before. Two test drives, to be precise. Obviously neither of them had been quite this good looking, but still. It was no big deal. All she had to do was stay calm, keep smiling, and remember that Sebastian had no idea who she was. There was safety in anonymity. The thought bolstered her confidence, though that was quickly splintered when she opened the safe and the keys for the Corvette weren’t there.

  ‘Why don’t you wait outside? I’ll just be a minute,’ she said, trying to make it look like she wasn’t searching the desk and panicking. Ella never panicked. She was always in control, always confident, and she never did stupid things like lose keys, or give a false name, or worse. And Nic had done plenty of worse over the years.

  She tried not to think about that, tried to keep her hand from straying to her hip. ‘I’m so sorry about this,’ she flustered. ‘They can’t have gone far.’

  ‘They’re in your pocket.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The keys. They’re in your pocket.’

  Nic dropped her hand against her upper thigh, her fingers curving over the telltale bump in her pocket. ‘So they are. Right. Shall we get on with it, then?’

  He stepped back as she made a move towards the door. ‘Ladies first.’

  Dropping her gaze to the floor, Nic hurried past him. Moisture clung to her armpits, and if the word ‘idiot’ had started flashing on her forehead she wouldn’t be surprised. Her skin prickled viciously as she walked to the Corvette. He was watching her. He doesn’t know who you are, she reminded herself with every awkward breath. Just act normal.

  Nic unlocked the driver’s side, opened the door and gestured for him to get in. She waited as he adjusted the seat and the rear view mirror before settling herself into the passenger seat, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when he didn’t ask for help with anything. Not because she didn’t know how the Corvette worked, but because she desperately needed to keep their interaction to a minimum. She’d deliberately forgotten how strongly she reacted to Sebastian; how being near him for even a minute made her metabolic rate go crazy.

  He’d started the engine before she’d even got her seat belt on. It didn’t roar for Sebastian, not like it did for her. Instead, it purred like a well fed cat.

  Nic blinked back surprise, then wondered why she was surprised. The man drove for a living. He could probably get a junker to roll over and purr. ‘If you’d like to turn…’

  Tyres screamed over tarmac as he put his foot to the accelerator and spun the car to the left.

  ‘…right,’ she finished breathlessly. ‘Or left. Whatever.’

  He glanced across at her, one dark brow raised. It was a look that said, quite clearly, I am in charge here. Long fingers caressed the steering wheel as he relaxed back into his seat and rapidly worked his way into fourth gear.

  As the car accelerated, so did her pulse. There was something screamingly sexy about watching him drive, watching him control all that power. Nic kept quiet, trying to figure out what to do with her hands, how to arrange her legs. The interior of the Corvette didn’t contain enough air, or enough space. She crossed her ankles, folded her arms, as if she could make herself invisible somehow, not wanting him to know that her insides were boiling with delight and horrible, sick jealousy.

  It was pathetic and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself. Sebastian and Ella had been together for eight months. Their relationship had been fast paced and exciting. Nic had lost count of the number of times Ella had jetted off somewhere exotic, only to crash back two days later with a new designer dress and a big smile, and she’d find herself wondering why her? Why not me?

  Because that was Ella, and Nic wasn’t Ella. She was the tomboy ugly sister, and Sebastian was a customer, and she needed to remember that before she did something stupid and gave herself away. Her throat started to close up at the thought of it, and she had to swallow hard.

  ‘It handles well, doesn’t it,’ she said, as he hit a straight and accelerated. ‘The clutch and flywheel are both new, but pretty much everything else is original. So I’ve been told, anyway.’ Nic fidgeted with her seat belt, let out an awkward little laugh. ‘I don’t really know much about cars.’

  ‘How long have you worked at the garage?’

  ‘A while,’ she replied, figuring that was sufficiently non-committal. She had to head this off at the pass, before she said something else and really did give herself away. ‘So, you drive rally cars.’

  ‘Amongst other things.’

  ‘What’s that like?’ She wanted him to talk so she wouldn’t have to, but she also wanted to know.

  ‘Right now, crappy.’

  That figured. His crash had been spectacular, flipping the car into a ditch on a particularly nasty stretch of road in the French Alps. He’d been lucky to get out alive. Nic squeezed her knees together, wondering at his ability to get back behind the wheel after that. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it. ‘And the rest of the time?’

  He dropped the car into third, angled it into a corner at terrifying speed. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Nic flustered. ‘I’m just curious. It’s not every day I meet a pro-driver.’

  ‘You’re interested in racing?’

  ‘I’m interested in anything fast,’ she replied, then inwardly cringed. ‘What do you think of the car?’

  ‘Gearbox is shot.’

  ‘It’s…’ Nic stopped herself just before she told him that it was in fact brand new, and she’d replaced it herself. ‘Oh,’ she said, her heart thumping. ‘Right. I’ll…I’ll have to tell Ella about that.’ Not that Ella would be able to do anything about it even if it did need replacing.

  ‘And Ella will fix it,’ he said comfortably, changing down a gear as they came to a roundabout. He picked an exit without even asking, barely even bothering to slow down.

  She risked a glance at him, took in his strong profile, his hands lazily caressing the steering wheel, his arms tanned and sinewy. Nature had been so kind to Sebastian Prince it bordered on the unfair. ‘Of course.’


  ‘When is she getting back?’

  This, at least, was one thing she could be honest about. ‘She didn’t say. Shall we head back to the garage now?’

  ‘You’re the boss,’ he said, flicking her a quick sideways glance.

  Nic froze in her seat. Did he know? No, she told herself firmly. They lapsed into silence as the car snarled back to the garage, straining every inch of the way like a racehorse with the reins pulled tight. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, as he eased to a halt on the forecourt.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘The test drive.’

  He raised a curious eyebrow.

  ‘Well,’ Nic said quickly, ‘it doesn’t seem like an easy car to drive. Not with that big front end. And it’s so noisy. If you’d decided that it was too tricky to handle and made me drive it, I don’t know what I’d have done!’

  He rolled the Corvette forward, parking parallel to the showroom. Then he turned to face her.

  ‘So,’ said Nic. She tried to smile. ‘What do you think?’

  He stared at her. ‘I don’t know what to think.’

  The test drive was done, she told herself firmly. She’d got away with it. He’d already given himself an excuse not to buy the Corvette, and she’d gone along with it. All they had to do now was shake hands, say thank you very much, and they’d never have to see each other again.

  Except…a tiny little part of her wanted to be in his company just a few minutes more. Curiosity, she supposed. Nothing to do with the fact that being near him made her skin tingle, or that being in that car with him had made her feel glad to be alive. ‘Would you like to test drive anything else?’

  He looked her way, his gaze loitering for a moment on her bare legs. Cut offs were her standard garage uniform in summer. Jeans through the winter, chopped off when they wore through. There was no denying they were scruffy. She should have worn smart trousers.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. He cleared his throat, and spoke again. ‘Yes, I think I would.’