She wouldn’t sound so sure of herself if she knew he could see through her dress. He turned off the flashlight. “Thanks for the tip.”
Just then, chatter sounded from the truck’s radio as different rescue units reported their status. And then he heard, “Kev, you copy?”
Glad of the distraction, Kevin picked up the microphone. “Yeah, Charlie. The car’s in the ditch and I’ve got the driver here in the truck. Mia Weece—”
“Weiss.” She pronounced it like “wice.”
“Mia Weiss,” he corrected. Said that way, her name tickled a memory, but he couldn’t place it. “Houston address. No injuries, but she’s a little nervous—can you vouch for me?”
“Sure.” There was silence and Kevin knew Charlie was laughing. “Ma’am?”
Kevin handed the microphone to Mia.
“Yes?” she answered.
“Are you with a good-looking guy who drives a white truck?”
She eyed him. “He drives a white truck.”
Charlie didn’t bother to let up on the mike transmit button as he laughed. And he expected Kevin to save him brisket after this? There was going to be a tuna-fish sandwich with Charlie’s name on it. Or maybe cheese on stale bread.
“Is he wearing a Hawaiian shirt?” Charlie asked.
Clicking on the flashlight, Kevin raised the poncho and Mia ducked her head to look.
“Yes.”
“That’s Kevin. I know he’s got a suspicious air about him and I apologize for that, but we had reports of a possible stalled car and asked him to come take a look. We hoped he’d behave himself.”
“Thank you.” Mia handed Kevin the microphone.
“He was being sarcastic,” Kevin pointed out.
“It was also unnecessary and unprofessional.”
Kevin slid the microphone into its clip. “Isn’t that a little harsh?”
“No.” She gazed steadily at him.
Water drops dripped from the pieces of her hair stuck to her face. She didn’t have much hair. In fact, his was longer.
He followed one droplet as it slid from her dark eyebrow down her cheek where it paused by her vivid red mouth. Lipstick. He wasn’t a fan.
She was pretty, but in an urban, high-maintenance way. Kevin wasn’t a fan of that, either. “Charlie was only trying to lighten the mood and reassure you.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten in the car if I’d needed reassurance.”
He pegged her as one of those single, independent types, a little on the snooty side. He avoided those types. “What made you decide to trust me? The keys?”
“No. It was when you threatened to go make sandwiches.”
Kevin tried to follow her thinking, but it made no sense. He suspected she was out of practice. “Good to know. I’ll work that into more rescues.”
“This isn’t a rescue!”
At her outrage—her irrational, illogical, misplaced outrage—Kevin raised his eyebrows. And don’t even get him started on her ingratitude.
“Okay, it’s a rescue,” she capitulated. “Thanks.” She offered him a quick, shy smile.
Amazing how one little smile could wipe away most of his irritation with her.
“No problem.” Except it was. She was. And before the night was over, she’d become a bigger problem. He could see it coming, but there wasn’t a darn thing he could do about it. Kind of like the storm beating down on them.
Mia sniffed and brushed at the hair on her forehead. “I’m on my way to the Peck and Davilla Media Management beach house. Do you know it?”
It figured. “Yeah. I’ve catered for them before.”
“Is it far? Can you drive me there?”
“Not tonight.” He started the engine and turned on the back spotlights. “Too much water and debris on the roads and they aren’t in the best shape to begin with. We still haven’t quite recovered from Hurricane Ike.”
“But—” She broke off as he backed up the truck. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to try to pull your car out of the ditch and drag it off the road,” he told her. “I emphasize ‘try’ because I don’t do this for a living and I don’t have commercial equipment.”
“I understand. You want to be released from liability.”
“This has nothing to do with whether or not you might sue me.” Kevin was generally pretty easygoing, but he had his limits. “I’m giving you the option to leave your car here, where it might take on water in the back, and call a towing service in the morning, or take a chance that I can get it out of the ditch now.”
She blinked at him. “Go for it.”
He jammed the truck into Park. As he pulled up the poncho hood he nodded over his shoulder. “There are blankets in the back.”
“Do you need help? Should I hold the flashlight or something?”
She got points for offering. “I got it.” His hand was on the door handle when he added, “But promise me you won’t drive off or try to move the truck.”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
“Good, because I don’t want to get pancaked between the vehicles.” Shoving open the door, Kevin stepped out into the wind-driven rain.
Storms sure were noisy.
And he hated the swirling wind. He’d rather have it all coming at him from the same direction instead of getting smacked around before he could prepare himself.
Kind of like women, now that he thought about it. Men were consistent and straightforward, putting everything they had into a focused offense. Women danced around and took pokes all over the place, smiling little smiles and keeping their opponent off balance.
And speaking of being off balance, getting her car back onto the road was going to be a good trick. Water eddied around Kevin’s ankles and rain kept getting in his eyes as he prepared the winch.
In the process of trying to attach the tow hook to the chassis, Kevin had to climb into the truck bed and raise his arms. The poncho flapped into his face and rain doused his shirt and shorts. He might as well not be wearing any rain gear at all.
He finally got the winch hook attached to some piece of metal that looked as if it would hold, and jumped down.
Back in the truck he set the winch and slowly pulled forward, hoping he had the right angle to get her car out without doing something stupid like flipping it over.
“Can you watch out back and tell me when the car is clear of the ditch?” he asked her.
She twisted around. “It’s hard to see.”
Well, yeah.
Before he could stop her, Mia threw off the blanket and opened the door to jump out onto the road.
He really wished she hadn’t done that. Through the windshield, he could see her waving him forward, she and that damn transparent dress clearly illuminated in his headlights. She had a pretty good shape from what he could see, which was a lot. The wind and the rain molded the dress to her body. Even what there was of her underwear was see-through.
Kevin’s mouth went dry, in contrast to the rest of him. Forget the car. Forget the rain. Forget the fact that he didn’t know her. He wanted to shove open the door, run his hands all over her, then lay her on the truck hood and bury himself between those long legs. Instead, he drove the truck forward until she motioned him to stop and got back inside.
“I appreciate the help,” he shouted over the storm’s roar. More for self-preservation than anything else, he draped the blanket across her shoulders and breathed easier when she closed the ends across her chest. Getting all worked up over her wasn’t going to do any good.
After some more maneuvering and another trip into the rain, Kevin had her car on the opposite side of the road and parked in somebody’s front yard, or what would be somebody’s front yard if the tide weren’t covering it.
“Thanks!” Mia said brightly enough to instantly rouse his suspicions. “I’ll just—”
He grabbed her wrist.
“Hey!” She tugged and he held on.
“Stay in the truck.” Kevin spoke with every
ounce of authority he could muster. “You do not know if the car is drivable and even if it is, I am not going to let you drive it.” He pressed the accelerator, putting as much distance as possible between her car and his truck as fast as he dared. He really wished he had the use of both hands.
“Let go.”
“You’ll jump out.”
“What do you care?”
“Paperwork.”
“Such compassion.”
“You haven’t seen the paperwork.”
Mia responded by yanking her wrist and since Kevin held on, the truck swerved and skidded.
“Don’t do that! You may have a death wish, but I don’t!”
After several moments she asked in a cowed voice, “Where are you taking me?”
He hated that she sounded all beaten down. “My place—it’s a restaurant. I’m going to force you to make sandwiches.”
“Just how many sandwiches will it take to adequately express my gratitude?”
Was that a smile he heard in her voice? He glanced at her. “Until I run out of meat.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Brisket,” he clarified. “Turkey. Maybe a little tuna salad.”
Mia wiggled her wrist. “Oh, let go. Of course I’m staying in the truck.”
Kevin released her in time to jerk the wheel to avoid somebody’s lawn chair blowing across the road. “All this time and I had no idea invoking the mighty sandwich would be so effective.”
Mia laughed unexpectedly and, for no reason at all, Kevin forgave her for inconveniencing him on such a filthy night. Her throaty laugh tugged at places inside him that had no business being tugged.
Her see-through dress might have had something to do with it, too.
There wasn’t much talking as they made their way back to Kevin’s Patio, which was good because he needed to concentrate on driving. Once inside the kitchen, he flipped on the back-up lighting and Mia tossed her wet blanket aside.
Kevin busied himself with wiping off the flashlight, hanging up the poncho, hosing the sand from his legs—all things that kept him from looking at her.
“My apartment is up the stairs. Take one of the lanterns. You can rinse off and change into dry clothes. If you want to, you can grab a shirt from my closet. Help yourself to whatever you need.”
“Thank you.”
He saw the glow when she turned on the lantern, but then it didn’t move because she stood there. She stood there instead of going up the stairs. Why was she standing there? Kevin risked looking at her. He aimed his gaze to where he expected her eyes to be, but he’d always had good peripheral vision. The fluorescent lantern illuminated her entire body, which, thanks to the wet dress stuck to her, he could see perfectly. If she’d been the type to wear days-of-the-week underwear—and he saw she wasn’t—he’d be able to tell today was Friday.
She had a great body.
Damn that peripheral vision.
He was running out of stuff to do. He needed to clean up himself before he began working with food.
Kevin didn’t notice right away that Mia wasn’t staring at him, but over his shoulder at a poster.
He knew the poster. The Chamber of Commerce had launched a tourism campaign and he’d allowed himself to be talked into modeling for it. It had saved them money and got him some free advertising.
There were other posters in the patio area, but this one, his Cowboy Surfer poster, Kevin had hung in the kitchen. To be honest, there were a couple more he wasn’t hanging anywhere, ones he and the photographer had taken after the official shoot. The moon that night had been full and the sky clear and he and the female photographer had shared a bottle of wine and…Not that he was ashamed, but those photos were a little arty for the family crowd.
“I know you,” Mia said.
It was funny how people saw your picture on a billboard and thought they knew you. “You’ve just seen my picture.”
“No—I mean yes, but I work at Peck and Davilla. We did those ads. I’m Mia in the scheduling department. We’ve actually spoken on the phone a few times.”
That explained why her name sounded familiar. “You’re the one who set up the appointments with the photographer.”
“Yes!” She smiled.
Kevin smiled back, but he was thinking that there was no way he would have connected the crisp, professional voice with the sexy, thong-wearing woman standing in his kitchen.
He was staring.
She was staring.
There was too much staring going on. Kevin gestured to the stairs. “You can go first. I’ve gotta…do stuff.”
“Oh, sure. I’m sorry.” Mia bent over to pick up her bag, outlining her hips, which showed pinkly through the dress, and were topped by a white lace T that disappeared between them.
Desire pooled in his groin and he just went with it, indulging his baser instincts, the ones that had her stripping off her clothes and him laying her out on the prep table.
Mia straightened and Kevin stared at the prep table, mentally rearranging the condiments. As she climbed the stairs he stole one last, lingering look.
Damn.
3
WAIT UNTIL SHE TOLD everybody at work that she’d been rescued by Kevin Powell, the Cowboy Surfer.
He’d been everybody’s computer wallpaper last summer, specifically that poster—the one at sunset, where he and his perfect torso gazed into the gold-streaked ocean—which made Surfside appear better than it did in real life.
Kevin, Mia would happily inform her coworkers, looked just as good in real life. She suspected. She’d have to make sure when he wasn’t wearing a wet Hawaiian shirt with his hair slicked to his head. And the fluorescent lighting wasn’t nearly as appealing as the bronzy glow in the poster, so he should probably stand outside before she decided for certain.
Oh, and maybe he should wear those mirrored sunglasses that reflected the ocean as he had in the poster. And the straw cowboy hat. And the low-sung jean shorts. Without the shirt.
Especially without the shirt. Mia melted a little inside.
And especially with those frayed, worn, loose-fitting shorts that hung on his hips just, and she meant just, avoiding indecency. Not that a man who looked like that could ever be indecent. Kevin’s image in her mind made her melt a little more.
Anyway, now that she’d met him, he seemed like a genuinely good guy which made him even more attractive.
Unfortunately, his first impression of her wasn’t so good.
During the drive back to Kevin’s restaurant, Mia had become aware that she owed him more than the brief thanks she’d given him. Walking into his restaurant kitchen had brought home to her that he was a regular person who’d dropped everything to do her a favor at a whole lot of inconvenience to himself.
She’d been so focused on getting to the beach house that she hadn’t realized she was in danger. It had all been so surreal. How many times had she watched the Houston news on TV and been disgusted by the people who drove their cars into standing water as though laws of nature didn’t apply to them? Or watched rescues of people who ignored evacuation orders and marveled at their lack of common sense? She’d acted just like them.
Maybe the storm surge would have flooded her car, and maybe it wouldn’t have, but she was lucky Kevin had refused to abandon her when she’d acted like such an idiot.
While she couldn’t beat herself up over asking for ID, she could have been nicer about it. In contrast, he’d just sent her upstairs to his home without a thought.
He didn’t know her. She could be a thief or a horrible snoop. Mia walked through the apartment living area into his bedroom. The closet door stood open and she couldn’t help looking inside. Well, he had offered her his shirts. The shirt off his back.
Handsome, brave, strong, generous, responsible and a business owner. Probably thrifty, clean and reverent, too.
So what was the catch? Where was the girlfriend?
The bedroom was a bachelor’s bedroom. Mia studied the colorfu
l row of Hawaiian shirts hanging in his closet. They were obviously his daily uniform and she suspected some were vintage collectables. He was supporting his brand identity—she worked in advertising; she understood. A straw cowboy hat sat on the shelf above the shirts. The straw cowboy hat, if she wasn’t mistaken. She thought of the poster again and sighed a little.
No women’s clothes. No chick pictures.
Another man who wouldn’t commit?
Not her problem, was it?
Mia unzipped her bag and withdrew a white sleeveless top that tied at the waist, and some Bermuda shorts. Her sandals were wet, so she put on the plastic ones she’d brought to wear in the sand. Speaking of sand, she was splattered with dirty grit, so she went into the bathroom to rinse off her legs and arms before changing into dry clothes. Closing the door, she faced a full-length mirror.
And gasped.
Her white skimmer dress, which she’d thought looked so crisp and coolly sophisticated, was totally see-through. And not just a little bit. Spotlit by the lantern, she could see the lace design of her bra—also sheer, but it was sheer when it was dry, too. Wet, it was invisible. She could see her nipples, two dark circles in a sea of white. To be embarrassingly honest, it was difficult to look at anything else but her nipples. And she’d seen them before.
And now, so had Kevin.
Oh, and there was more. Mia forced her gaze southward. Yes, the matching lace thong, which was also sheer, and now revealed the skill of her waxing aesthetician.
As Mia stared, trying to convince herself that maybe her dress hadn’t clung quite so much and that it had been dark outside so maybe Kevin hadn’t noticed, she remembered him carefully avoiding looking at her in the kitchen. She remembered standing there holding the lantern just the way she was now.
She flushed—a whole-body flush that started in her upper chest and spread to her throat and stomach.
She knew because she could see it through her dress.
She’d stood in the light from the headlights, rain plastering her transparent dress to her body, and directed him as he pulled her car out of the ditch. She was lucky she still had a car.
Unless she didn’t do it for him. How humiliating that would be. Not that she wanted him hitting on her, but when she’d spent weeks ogling his picture, she wanted to believe he’d at least felt a glimmer of interest when he’d seen her body.
His Little Black Book Page 9