Hot Shot

by Denise Devine

  * * * *

  He’d been suckered.

  The instant Meg Bristol turned those soft amber eyes on Denny he knew it was all over but the cryin’. Literally. He had no problem supervising a rowdy construction crew, but no way could he cope with a woman’s tears. Watching the petite brunette at his side turn on the waterworks gave him a feeling of utter helplessness, plus a healthy dose of guilt for destroying her car.

  Aw, sweetheart, Denny thought miserably. Don’t do this to me.

  “I’m—I’m sorry,” Meg said shakily, as if reading his thoughts. She slowly pulled from his grasp and wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m just having a really, really bad day.”

  Never mind the old clunker probably had a couple hundred thousand miles of wear on it. Just the same, he got the feeling she was holding something back. No one shed tears over something so easily replaced.

  “Don’t worry, my insurance company will pay for a rental,” he heard himself promise. “If you’d like, we can use my road service and set it up right now.” He hesitated, almost forgetting what he’d just said. She’d done it again—turned those big golden eyes on him and nearly melted down his insides.

  Getting back to business, he instructed Jim to move Meg’s vehicle onto the shoulder to allow traffic to get moving again. Looking relieved, she tossed Jim the keys then grabbed her purse and followed Denny to the passenger side of his truck.

  She feels light as a feather, he marveled, noting the perfect fit his hands made around her waist as he lifted her into the vehicle. For a moment, he imagined himself sliding his arms around her, pressing her soft curves against his chest.

  Nice idea, Metz, but you already have a girlfriend.

  He pulled away as Leeza’s sexy silhouette invaded his mind. Leeza had him totally infatuated—and counting the hours until tonight.

  He jumped into the truck and slammed the door. Moments later, he pulled onto the shoulder behind Jim and shut off the engine.

  “Ouch!” The corner of a magazine jutted out from under the seat, jabbing Meg’s ankle. Reaching down, she pulled out the glossy publication and her face turned deeper scarlet than the thong bikini on the busty cover model.

  “Uh, that’s Jim’s,” Denny blurted. He snatched the copy of Playboy from her hand and tossed it into the back seat. Oops! He didn’t know if his face flushed as well, but it burned hotter than a firecracker. It was time to get busy and reserve that car. Yessiree. He pressed the blue button on the dash and connected with an advisor. Together, he and Meg reserved a Chevy Malibu and arranged its delivery.

  After that, they had nothing else to do but wait for the police. Denny turned on the radio and relaxed in his seat, but became distracted by Jim sparring with Nan outside his window.

  “Got a question for ya.” Jim peered at Nan suspiciously, his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his worn jeans. They stood at nearly the same height; Jim looked a blond hair taller. “What’d ya give me the finger for? I mean, what’d I do to you?”

  Nan’s eyes flared, their sea-green irises matching her long, flowing skirt and matching blouse. “What’d you do? You gave me one, buster!”

  “Only because you did it first.” Jim bared his teeth like a bulldog ready to bite. “Whaddya think—I go around flipping off chicks for the fun of it? Gimme a break, woman. I’ve got more class than that.”

  “Then prove it.” Nan’s wide mouth broke into a sly, triumphant smile. “Apologize.”

  Jim looked bewildered. “I, ah...huh?” His mouth clamped shut then opened again. He stared helplessly at Denny, confusion widening his gunmetal blue eyes.

  Unable to keep a straight face, Denny looked away, feigning preoccupation with the music. After a moment, he glanced back again.

  Jim turned back to Nan and adjusted his baseball cap, a sure sign of defeat. “Aw right, I’m sorry. I guess I overreacted, ya know.”

  Nan slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and leaned against the truck. “Yeah, I know. You really upset me.”

  Jim shuffled his feet. “Huh!” He stared at the ground, looking like a scolded child.

  Nan slid closer. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

  Jim’s head bobbed up like a marionette’s, exposing a toothy smile. “Really?”

  Denny rolled his eyes. What a wimp. That dumb Swede put on a tough act, but he’d humble himself anytime he thought it could help him get a date.

  A siren announced an officer’s arrival followed by a tow truck for Denny’s vehicle. For the next thirty minutes, Denny and Meg completed the necessary paperwork while Jim and Nan arranged for rides home. Then Denny and Meg followed the tow truck in her car to a body shop in Forest Bend. Once there, he called his insurance company and reported his auto claim.

  An hour or so later he’d concluded his business and felt free to leave, but something made him pause. He glanced across the dingy waiting room where Meg sat on the edge of her chair, thumbing through a tattered People magazine and waiting for the adjuster to arrive to collect her settlement. She looked frustrated and tired. Denny gazed into her soft, amber eyes and his heart skipped a beat.

  Aw, why not... With a sigh of resignation, he picked a spot on the sagging plaid sofa and stretched out. “Might as well get comfortable,” he said with an encouraging smile. “This could take a while.”

  He pulled out his iPhone and dialed Leeza’s number. After four rings, her call went to voicemail. His disappointment gave way to anticipation once he began to talk.

  “Hi. It’s Denny. Sorry I missed you. I just called to let you know that I...ah...” He glanced at Meg then shifted his gaze to the floor. “I had an accident this morning so my truck’s in the shop. I’m not sure what time I’ll pick you up tonight, but I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.”

  “You don’t have to stick around on my account,” Meg said as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. “I wouldn’t want you to miss your date.”

  “Well, I’d like to hear what the adjuster has to say about my pickup, anyway,” he said in a persuasive tone. The body shop’s manager would have routinely called him and discussed the estimate, but she didn’t need to know that. “Who knows, maybe we’ll luck out and be next on his schedule.”

  Unfortunately, Denny’s luck had nothing to do with it. He and Meg waited all morning, drinking old coffee, taking turns reading sections of the newspaper and watching game shows on a fuzzy television screen. Hours passed. Meg looked hot and uncomfortable in her designer suit, not to mention bored. Even so, he gave her credit for hanging in there. Not many girls would have withstood the grungy conditions, or the lusty looks from the guys in the shop—another reason why he’d stayed. The rental company delivered the Malibu by noon, but still no sign of the adjuster. By four o’clock, a portly, balding man wearing navy Dockers and a striped polo shirt sauntered into the body shop. It took him only twenty minutes to survey the damage to Denny’s truck, authorize the repair and scribble out a check to Meg for her Fiesta.

  Meg gave Denny a ride home in her rented white Malibu, even though the trip took her at least twenty minutes out of her way. “Thanks for sticking around,” she said as he opened the door and stuck one leg out.

  A warm, satisfied feeling enveloped him. “Hey, it’s no problem.” He smiled and took her hand, gently squeezing it. “I guess I’ve developed a soft spot for librarians.”

  He’d meant his answer to be lighthearted and teasing, though once said, it sounded straight from the heart. Their gazes held, and for a moment he almost regretted having other plans for tonight. “You, ah...” he slowly released her hand, “take care now.”

  “You, too,” she replied, sounding equally bewildered.

  Denny paused for a heartbeat then climbed out of the car and shut the door.

  He responded to her wave as she pulled away, wondering why such a pretty girl like her didn’t have guys lined up, waiting to get a date. Obviously, she didn’t have a boyfriend or she would have called the lucky guy this morning on
the freeway. Too bad. A girl as sweet and feminine as Meg needed a man around to do things for her, like change her oil and take her out to dinner. He watched her drive out of sight, realizing how much she’d affected him in their short time together. He really did have a soft spot for librarians now and always would.

  Then he thought of Leeza and bolted into the four-plex, taking three stairs at a time. Inside his apartment, he checked his phone again before heading into the shower. No texts or messages... He called Leeza and got her voicemail a second time. He jammed the phone back in his pocket and paced his apartment. Where could she be? Why hadn’t she made an effort to call him back? He resorted to calling her home phone, but couldn’t reach anyone until 6:30 P.M. when her mother answered.

  “Hello, Mrs. Frank, is Leeza home?” He knew he sounded anxious, but couldn’t help it.

  “Leeza?” Mrs. Frank echoed in a nasal voice. “Why, no. She’s gone out for the evening.”

  “But...” Stunned, he raked his free hand through his thick hair. How could that be? “She’s supposed to go out with me, Denny Metz.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Mrs. Frank said. “Some nice fellow picked her up about an hour and a half ago. She said she’d be out late, but she didn’t say where they were going.”

  That would have been about the time he sat in Meg’s Malibu, fondling her hand. A few highly descriptive words raced through Denny’s mind, skidding to a halt on the tip of his tongue. Instead of speaking his mind, he politely muttered good-bye to Mrs. Frank and hung up, then made a fist to take his displeasure out on the wall. Luckily, he came to his senses before making contact.

  He flopped onto the sofa and stared out his picture window at the tree-lined park across the street, feeling worse than when he saw the damage to his truck. Well, so much for the perfect night with the woman of his dreams. His gut twisted. “I’d sure like to get my hands on the guy who got lucky with my date,” he growled. The idea had merit, though sitting in jail for assault didn’t.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed Jim, but the call went straight to voicemail. He sighed. Now what? He refused to sit around this dump and mope. Suddenly an idea popped into his head, and the more Denny considered it the more his mood brightened. Why not? On the way down to the parking lot, he searched his pockets for the scrap of paper containing her address and phone number, his spirits soaring like a rocket. A half-hour later, he bounded across her porch and knocked on her door. It opened a crack, and Meg Bristol gingerly peered out.

  “Hey, there, Meg.” He leaned one hand against the frame and flashed his sexiest grin. “How’d you like to go out?”