She Who Dares

by Jane O'Reilly

  Sebastian was old enough and wise enough to recognise that she had something unique. He was also old enough and experienced enough to know when a woman was hot for him. He hadn’t thought he was old enough or sensible enough to not make a move, but apparently he didn’t know himself as well as he thought.

  Now he had to work out what the hell he was going to do about it. Striding round to the front of the garage, Sebastian eyed his bike. The moon was high and bright, casting long shadows across the forecourt, making the machine look like something from a Ghost Rider comic book. But Sebastian didn’t feel like the Spirit of Vengeance. He felt more like a horny twenty-eight-year-old man who’d just developed some uncomfortable morals. Through the glass of the showroom he could see the gleam of the Corvette. Rubbing a hand over his chest, he tried to ease the ache in his insides.

  Denying himself for a second time was not on the cards tonight.

  The following morning, Nic sat down in front of her computer with a bowl of cereal on her lap and ordered herself four sensible white bras, the type with lightly padded cups that would stop her nipples from making a spectacle of themselves. She munched her way through her breakfast as she typed in her card details one-fingered and told herself that she’d been intending to do it for ages. It had nothing to do with Sebastian or what had happened the night before, because she wasn’t in the slightest bit bothered about that.

  Thanks to her crying jag and the pills the A and E doc had given her, she’d slept deeply and dreamlessly, and the rest had given her some semblance of strength. She might still feel like crying but feeling wasn’t doing, and that was good enough for today. Breakfast done and money spent, she cut the bandage off her hand, pulled on her usual uniform of shorts and tee and headed down to the garage. All she had to do was act like yesterday never happened. Erase it from the history book in her head. How hard could it be?

  Somewhere between her flat and the workshop, she admitted defeat. Whatever small amount of confidence she’d persuaded herself she still had vanished. Sebastian had taken one look at her body and scarpered. She hadn’t even needed to get naked to scare him off. Chances of her forgetting that were nil.

  There was no point entering Misses and Motors. Just for once, Sinclair’s was going to have to give it a miss. Why risk the humiliation? She couldn’t possibly win. It was time to accept it, once and for all. She was plain and ordinary and about as attractive as a girl mechanic could be, which was not very, and in some ways Sebastian had done her a favour.

  At least her humiliation hadn’t been public.

  Feeling faintly sick, she went into her office, put a new filter in the coffee machine and set it going, then sat herself behind her desk and pulled forward the jobs book. A yellow post-it note had been stuck to today’s page.

  Nic knew the instant she set eyes on it that the dark scribble belonged to Sebastian. An unwelcome frisson of heat flickered through her, extinguished almost immediately by the heavy pull of worry in her stomach. Sebastian leaving her notes? This couldn’t be good.

  She stared at it for a moment, trapped in a place where not knowing was almost a place of safety. If it said he was leaving and never coming back, that would be absolutely perfect, but the thought that it might actually say that terrified her. If, on the other hand, it said he would be here at nine sharp and was bringing bacon sandwiches, she’d probably be sick.

  It was a lose-lose situation.

  It took Nic two coffees to pluck up the courage to look at the note. Took the Corvette. Sebastian. And that was it. Four little words. Took it where, exactly? Five hundred miles away, never to return? Or taken it down the road for a spin, be back in five? Nic could feel her anxiety starting to bubble up.

  She didn’t have a number she could call, because although she’d begrudgingly given him a set of keys for the garage, they hadn’t got as far as exchanging those sorts of details. Ring Ella and ask for it? That daft idea was rapidly dismissed. Banging her empty mug down on the desk, Nic rushed into the workshop and tried to find her calm. She straightened spanners, tested the tyre spinner, counted spark plugs. Then she walked quietly over to the far corner and pulled off the sheet that hid her pride and joy.

  ‘Hello, baby,’ she whispered. The battered 1972 Ferrari Dino silently greeted her with a flash of faded red, but her heart raced as much as if it were factory perfect. Nic didn’t see the imperfections. All she saw were the stunning lines of the bodywork, the gorgeous engine hidden beneath, and the potential. It was a work of art. She couldn’t wait to restore it to its former glory, take it out, and let it make all the other cars in the world jealous.

  Leaning forward, she pressed her cheek to the bonnet, closed her eyes, and let herself breathe. She’d made herself a promise the day she bought this car, a promise that so far remained unbroken. She lifted her hands to stroke the bonnet. Everything would be okay, as long as she had this.

  The sharp crack of pain that shot from her hand to her gut reminded her that no, everything was not okay. She couldn’t work. And she most definitely couldn’t enter the Misses and Motors contest. She’d never be pretty enough.

  And at some point, whether she wanted to or not, she was going to break that promise.

  ‘No!’ She shouted, jerking herself upright and thumping the bonnet. The word echoed through the open space of the workshop, and Nic realised a moment too late that she wasn’t alone.

  ‘Morning.’ His voice was deep, slightly husky, and disturbingly cheerful. ‘Nice car,’ he continued, and the way he said the word ‘nice’ sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Why are you shouting at it?’

  Nic straightened up. It took every ounce of strength she had to turn around. ‘It didn’t behave,’ she said coolly, refusing to feel ashamed. Obviously Sebastian hadn’t cried himself to sleep, and wasn’t watching his plans going down the drain. He’d probably eaten two bacon sandwiches for breakfast as well. ‘Where is my Corvette?’

  ‘Our Corvette is parked out on the forecourt where it’s being romanced by a Chelsea striker. But I’m sure he’d be more interested in this.’

  ‘It’s not for sale!’

  ‘Sure it is,’ he replied. ‘I agree it needs some work, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find a buyer.’

  With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Nic gobsmacked and shaking. Why had Ella landed her with such a jerk? She opened the driver’s door, hand trembling, and slipped in to the seat. Her feet automatically found the pedals, the narrow steering wheel, and she clung on like a child to a bag of sweets. This was her car. Hers. Male voices, chatting, laughing and generally sounding far too pleased with themselves drifted closer. She gripped the steering wheel of the Dino tighter.

  ‘1972 Ferrari 308 GT4 Dino,’ she heard Sebastian say. ‘Girl not included.’

  ‘I prefer blondes anyway,’ said the other man in a strong London accent. ‘You know what they say.’

  ‘Something about gentlemen,’ Sebastian said. ‘I can never remember it exactly.’

  Nic opened the door a couple of inches. ‘It’s not for sale.’

  The stranger walked over, bending down to give her a look that she didn’t much like. ‘Everything has a price.’ He exuded confidence, so much so that Nic was surprised he hadn’t tripped over it on the way in. ‘I’ll give you thirty k.’

  It was a ridiculously good offer given the state the car was in, but she fixed on a blank expression. It wasn’t difficult as long as she kept her attention fixed firmly on the man and well away from Sebastian. She pulled the door shut and wound down the window. ‘Like I said, it’s not for sale.’

  ‘Why not?’ The question came from Sebastian this time, and his words pulled her gaze his way. He was standing to the left of the man, hands tucked in the pockets of jeans which were gone at the knee and worn soft everywhere else. He’d sprayed on a black t-shirt and his Converse were emerald green. He looked…delicious.

  The footballer screamed designer from the tips of his carefully messed hair to the tips of his h
and-made shoes, and looked faintly ridiculous.

  ‘Because…because she’s mine,’ Nic heard herself say. ‘I’m going to enter the Misses and Motors with her.’ She had no idea where those words had come from.

  ‘The what?’ said designer man.

  ‘Misses and Motors,’ Sebastian replied, but he was looking at Nic as he spoke. She could feel his gaze on her skin, feel the curiosity in it, and feel the heat rise in herself. ‘It’s a beauty contest. Been running over in St Austell since the fifties. It’s legendary in these parts.’

  Designer man sniggered. ‘A beauty contest? In this junker? Good luck with that.’

  ‘You know what, Dario? I’ve just realised something.’ Sebastian folded his arms, making his biceps curve and his forearms seem thicker, more powerful. Nic swallowed. ‘You’re a jerk,’ Sebastian continued. ‘And I don’t sell cars to jerks.’

  She watched, mouth open, as the footballer scratched his head, opened his mouth and then closed it again, before turning on his heel and strolling out, muttering something she opted out of hearing.

  How did a man get to top your most hated man on the planet and most amazing man on the planet lists simultaneously? Plus score extra brownie points for knowing not only that the car was a Dino, but also the year and model?

  ‘Now where were we,’ Sebastian said. ‘Oh yes. Nice car.’

  And again those words went through her like fire through ice. ‘It’s a work in progress,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Anyone with half a brain can see the potential.’

  ‘But potential isn’t reality.’

  ‘It could be. You’re serious about entering Misses and Motors?’

  Nic turned over her hand. The slash that ran from her middle finger to the centre of her palm was hidden under a square of white gauze, held in place by matching tape. She couldn’t see the wound, but she could visualise it. See the thick stitches that held the ugly, mangled flesh together. You could dress it up all you wanted, she thought, but you couldn’t escape reality.

  She couldn’t escape the fact that Sebastian had taken one look at her breasts and left. ‘No,’ she shrugged. ‘How do you know about it, anyway?’

  ‘Ella.’

  ‘Right.’ Of course. One last caress of the steering wheel, and she elbowed open the door and got out.

  Sebastian put himself in her way. ‘Why did you say you were going to enter if you aren’t?’

  ‘I open my mouth and crap comes out.’

  He set one big hand on the roof, the other on the edge of the door, effectively caging her in. ‘I don’t buy that. Exactly how much work does the Dino need?’

  Nic dropped her gaze, picked at the edge of the gauze. He was close. So close. She could barely stand to have him look at her, knowing how unattractive he found her. ‘I don’t see why it matters.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  ‘It needs a re-spray, obviously, and the interior could do with tarting up. But under the bonnet, she’s basically sound.’

  ‘Stop,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘You’re turning me on.’

  Yeah, right. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’ve got stuff to do.’

  ‘Me too,’ he said, a self-satisfied grin curving that beautifully cut mouth. ‘I’ve got a Dino to fix.’

  ‘You are not touching my baby!’ Nic dropped back on to the driver’s seat, her heart thudding in her chest. ‘It’s not happening, Sebastian.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ he replied smoothly. ‘You need it for the Misses and Motors.’

  And the decision was made. ‘I’m not entering Misses and Motors.’

  He turned then, propping himself up against the side of the car. ‘Why not?’

  Nic simply stared at him. He’d given her the space to escape. So why didn’t she?

  ‘Truth or dare,’ he said softly.

  ‘Dare.’ No way was she telling him the truth. It was bad enough having to talk to him, especially from her position in the driver’s seat. If she looked up at him, she became all too aware of how tall he was, how beautifully built. If she kept her gaze level, his crotch was right there, begging to be stared at.

  Lesser of two evils, she decided, looking up.

  Dark brows lifted. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  Nic firmed her chin. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Kiss me again.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard. Come on.’ He held out one big hand.

  ‘I am not kissing you again!’ Nic snapped, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Her underarms were clammy, her skin prickling, feeling too hot and too small. ‘What the hell would you want to kiss me for anyway?’

  Sebastian gave her a strange look. ‘I’m a man. You work it out.’

  Why was he teasing her like this? What did he possibly have to gain? Ignoring his hand, Nic got out of the car on unsteady legs. ‘Don’t make fun of me,’ she told him.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Bit hard to believe,’ she pointed out, ‘when last night you got one look at me half-dressed and did a runner. You weren’t exactly keen.’

  ‘Did you want me to be keen?’

  ‘I…’ Words failed her as he moved closer. She could feel his gaze touching her mouth, sparks shooting across through her flesh and settling themselves between her legs.

  ‘Truth or dare, Nic. Did you want me?’

  Oh, god. This was one truth she could not face. Instead, she did the only thing she could.

  She sprinted into her office. And then she locked the door

  Chapter Six

  Of all the reactions he’d expected, which ranged from a slap in the face through to a full-on, no holds barred legs around his waist and tongue in his mouth kiss, running away wasn’t in the mix. Shaking his head, Sebastian frowned to himself as he skimmed a hand over the bodywork of the Dino. There wasn’t any point in pretending now that the tension fizzing between them didn’t exist.

  If anything, it was accelerating, and the last few minutes had given it a decidedly adult twist. Because of Nic’s accident, last night they’d done little more than flirt with the edges of their chemistry. They could have shrugged it off, ignored it, let the dust settle over it until it became one of those almost moments. But not anymore.

  Now he was determined to see exactly what she was so afraid of. And exactly what she had hidden under that clinging cotton. Her breasts weren’t big, he knew, but they were beautifully shaped, and she had those incredibly toned arms and shoulders, and sexy runner’s legs.

  He’d get to those later, however, after they’d talked. Daring her to kiss him hadn’t been part of his plan for the day, but when the opportunity had presented itself, he hadn’t thought twice about it, and he had no intention of spending the next few weeks dodging the issue, having to watch everything he said, everything he did. He fancied her, and he was pretty sure the attraction was mutual.

  So, what were they going to do about it? Sebastian knew what he’d like to do. Striding over to the office, he lifted his hand to open the door, then thought better of it and knocked. ‘Nic, we need to talk.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Whatever the hell this is.’

  The door swung open. She’d pulled on her overalls, scraped back her hair, and there was a mug in her hand. ‘It isn’t anything. We played truth or dare. I picked dare. You suggested something totally inappropriate and unprofessional, and I reacted accordingly.’ Her jaw was set hard, but her dark eyes were wide and wary. She looked a like a cornered cat.

  Sebastian blocked the doorway, hoping she wouldn’t scratch his eyes out. ‘Why did you pick the dare?’

  ‘What sort of question is that?’

  ‘One you’re going to answer.’ And he wasn’t going to move out of the way until she did.

  ‘What is this? The Spanish Inquisition? You don’t know anything about me, Sebastian. Stop acting like you do.’

  ‘I know enough,’ Sebastian informed her curtly. ‘You’re a petrol head. You hug Ferrari’s when
you think no-one’s looking. You dress like a boy because you’re terrified of men, but what I don’t know is why.’

  ‘I am not terrified of men!’ Her hands on her hips, she gave him an angry, challenging glare.

  ‘Yes you are.’ Sebastian reached out and touched a strand of hair hanging loose by her cheek. She smacked his hand away. ‘See? But I like you, Nic. I think you’re seriously cool. So tell me the truth. Did you want me to make a pass at you last night?’

  Her chin slammed into her chest, and her cheeks turned the same colour as her Ferrari. ‘Yes,’ she mumbled. Sebastian thought about pretending he hadn’t heard, making her say it again, louder, clearer, but decided he wasn’t that cruel.

  ‘But you didn’t,’ she continued, her voice a little louder. ‘And that’s fine. I can take a hint.’ She moved away from the door, turning her back to him as she fiddled with the coffee maker. ‘God, this is embarrassing. Can we pretend that last night and this morning never happened?’

  Sebastian moved into the tiny office, settled himself in the chair behind the desk. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Please,’ she said, with the painful tone of the truly desperate. ‘I’ll…if you agree not to mention it, I’ll let you work on the Dino.’

  Sebastian thought that over for a moment. ‘I’ll need supervision.’ He set his feet on the desk and eyed her mug. ‘And coffee.’ And more, though he decided to keep that snippet of information to himself.

  ‘I can do that,’ she said hastily, holding out her mug. ‘Here.’ She moved towards him slowly, cautiously, as if she was approaching a Rottweiler. Sebastian was tempted to tell her he didn’t bite, not unless he was asked very nicely, but instead he took the mug, deliberately letting his fingers touch hers.

  She’d asked him not to mention it. She hadn’t asked him not to use every non-verbal skill he possessed to get his message across. At some point soon he’d be back on the racing circuit. He would probably never see her again.

  No way was he letting the opportunity to shag her senseless slip through his fingers.