Never Say Never
McLaughlin Brothers, Book 3
Jennifer Ashley
JA / AG Publishing
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Also by Jennifer Ashley
About the Author
Chapter One
Brooke
Crap. He’s here.
Austin McLaughlin strolls into my showroom like he owns the place. Sauntering, exuding confidence, jerking his chin at my lead salesman who moves to intercept him.
Austin says a few words I can’t hear and Mike grins, then motions him to me.
I’m at my standing desk in the back, facing the showroom, to go over paperwork. I’m clearly busy, but Austin strides for me like I have all the time in the world to speak with him.
I would for any other client. But this is Austin McLaughlin.
Once upon a time—or a year and a half ago—I dated him. Okay, dated is a tame word for what we had. It was wild, insane, fun, frustrating, infuriating …
And then it was over. We walked away from each other, for many reasons.
I hadn’t seen Austin until a few months ago, at my friend Calandra’s wedding. Calandra married the oldest McLaughlin brother, and I was a bridesmaid, so of course I had to deal with Austin being there.
He’d pretended to ignore me, so I pretended to ignore him. He’d continued like this at my friend Abby’s wedding rehearsal—she’s marrying another McLaughlin, and again, I’m a bridesmaid.
After that rehearsal dinner, more than a week ago, I found myself alone with him, entirely by accident. Maybe Austin knew I’d been sitting in that courtyard behind the restaurant—maybe he didn’t.
Whatever. We’d had a stilted discussion. I’d forced myself to talk business when he’d mentioned his dream of owning a great car. I’d even encouraged him to drop in and test one of our vehicles. I could be civil, couldn’t I? And maybe make a commission on top of it.
I didn’t think Austin would come so soon. I also didn’t think he’d ask for me. We have plenty of competent salespeople here, including Mike, who’s very good. I don’t need to give Austin hands-on service.
Why does my blood heat when I think of hands-on service?
Probably because he’s better looking than he needs to be in his casual shirt and wind-mussed hair. Austin moves in his slow, self-assured way past a Lamborghini and an Aston Martin without seeming to notice them.
His gaze is fixed on me, his dark blue eyes as sexy as ever.
Austin says nothing when he reaches me. I don’t like him standing so close, even though my desk is between us. He reaches into my personal space somehow. Part of me wants to run. The other part? It wants to rush around the desk and stand even closer.
“Can I help you?” I give him my chirpy greeting, pretending he’s just another customer.
“Taking you up on your offer.”
The way Austin says the words, with his hint of smile, puts plenty of double-entendre into the sentence. Triple-entendre even.
“To show you our cars,” I say firmly. I’m all business, me.
“Sure.” Austin rests his hands on the desk, arms apart, which makes his muscles knot. I have a flash of how I used to stroke my fingers up and down those muscles, and I suck in a breath.
“I’m not certain it’s a good move for me,” Austin continues. “But I might be convinced.”
I’m not certain talking to him is a good move for me. However, this is a car business, and my job is to sell cars. High-dollar luxury cars, which people don’t buy every day. The average driver regards cars as transportation. Something nice, yes, with as many bells and whistles as possible for their buck, but affordable. Most people have a budget.
Luxury and fantasy car buyers are different. They also have a budget, but they are more interested in a certain model or a limited edition and will be somewhat flexible with price in order to purchase.
The men—and plenty of women too—who walk in here are excited about cars. It’s fun to sell to them, because they truly love them. They appreciate every aspect.
I fall into salesperson mode. “We talked about a starter car, one to introduce you without shocking your wallet. I mentioned a Maserati.”
Austin drives a Merc sports car that’s plenty flashy if a low-end commercial model, and his eyes light when I mention the Maserati. He’s interested. This encounter could lead to a sale … or it could lead to me regretting I ever spoke to him at Abby’s rehearsal dinner.
I make myself smile. “All right. Follow me.”
Austin’s near grin becomes a full one. I expect him to give me an Austin comeback, like I’ll follow you anywhere, sweetheart. But he simply nods and skims around the desk as I go to the coded lock box and remove a set of keys.
I lead him through a back door to a walled lot behind the showroom. We don’t keep the hugely expensive cars on the premises—the vehicles in the showroom and most in the gated back lot are demo models.
The Maserati I lead Austin to is one of the few we stock for immediate sale. It’s a black Ghibli, with hand-stitched leather seats and carbon-fiber trims. Austin’s smile fades as he scans it, interest lighting his face.
“That is one cool automobile,” he says, sounding reverent.
“An intro car, but it has all the fine features Maserati puts into every vehicle.”
“Stop talking like a commercial and tell me about this car. It’s awesome.”
“How about you find out for yourself?” I dangle a key fob. “Drive it.”
“Hot damn.” Austin closes his fingers around the fob.
In the instant before I drop it into his palm, a spark leaps from him to me, just as it had when I’d handed him my business card after the rehearsal dinner.
Our eyes meet. Austin has very black lashes, a good contrast with his blue eyes. I’d never been attracted to blue-eyed men until I met Austin. Never since either.
He turns away, pretending no fires have singed us. He opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat. I hurry around the car and enter the passenger side.
Austin settles in, wriggling a little as the soft leather cups his body. He adjusts the mirror and inhales. “Love that new car smell.”
“Start it up,” I say encouragingly.
Austin lifts the key then realizes the car has a push-button starter. He clicks it, and the engine purrs to life.
“Sweet.” His smart-ass expression fades. I know he didn’t come here to buy a car—he wants to annoy me … but now he’s realizing how much he likes this Ghibli.
I click a remote I carry in my pocket and the back gate slowly rolls open. “Take her out.”
Austin revs the engine, which has a throaty but almost velvety purr. Lots of power, but it doesn’t need to show off.
“Feels good.” Austin again moves in the seat, and my skin tingles. I want to wriggle too, remembering his body covering mine in the dark, his warmth, his slow kisses. You feel good, he would whisper.
Palms sweating, I shake off the memory with effort.
Austin scans the dashboard, pushes all the buttons, familiarizes himself with the car. He uses controls to adjust the mirror, the seat, the steering wheel. Last he plays with the sound system, scanning the satellite radio to find a station he likes.
Dance music flows through the car, and Austin rocks to it. “Mind? Can’t drive a piece like this with
out a good beat.”
Not waiting for my answer, he pulls through the gate to the narrow lane outside, singing along with the song.
I raise my voice to be heard. “It’s like you’re fifteen.”
At least Austin doesn’t tear out, squealing the tires as I half expect him to. He’s careful—this is about a hundred grand worth of car.
“Nuh-uh. If I’d driven a thing like this with a hot girl next to me when I was fifteen, with no license, I would have got my ass whooped.”
From his mother, he meant, who would have blown a gasket. His dad would have given him a stern but quiet talking to. Not that his mom would have hit him, but Austin would have been grounded forever.
“By the way, how are your parents?” I ask.
We reach Colter, and he turns west, the street leading to quiet neighborhoods.
“They’re great.” Austin rests one hand easily on the wheel, the other arm on the console between us. “They’re thrilled they have two sons married off, another engaged, and a grandkid on the way. The old homestead will be inundated with babies before long.”
“Not a bad thing.” I’ve been to Austin’s parents’ house plenty of times, and it’s a place made for kids.
“Didn’t say it was. They’ll be cute as hell, and I can teach them how to gang up on their dads.” Austin laughs in delighted anticipation. “How’s your family?”
They miss Austin, but I’m not about to tell him that. “Good.” I shrug. “You know. Getting through life. My brother just got a promotion.”
“Cedric did? Awesome. He deserves it. Tell him that.”
I picture my older brother, a big guy, easy-going, deep-voiced, quiet, who was smarter than anyone gave him credit for. He’s an architect at a firm where you have to sacrifice blood to move up the ladder. Austin and I first connected through him, when the McLaughlins were looking for an architect for help in their home-building charity, and Calandra suggested Cedric. I’d known the McLaughlins through Calandra, but mostly only Ryan, the guy she married.
Austin had come to see Cedric a day I’d also stopped by Cedric’s office, and the rest is history.
We drive through neighborhoods, Austin going carefully. Signs here and there proclaim “No test driving”—there are a number of dealerships nearby—and Austin avoids those streets.
We emerge onto wider avenues, where traffic is sparse this Sunday afternoon. Austin lets the car go faster, grinning as the engine rumbles.
“Would love to take this on the open road.” His eyes gleam.
“Not today.” Of course Austin would want to take it for a real drive, but there’s only so much we can do within the city. “We have a track, where you can really see what it can do. I can make you an appointment.”
“Sounds good. Set it up.”
Austin is confident, as he is all the time. He takes delight in everything, no inhibitions.
I watch his hands resting lightly on the wheel, and have another flash of memory. Austin lying beside me in my bed in a pool of sunshine, those hands brushing my skin, his slow smile as he leans to kiss me.
I suck in a breath, my heart on fire. For an instant I feel him, remember the excitement he built in me. I miss it. Life—my personal, non-work life—has been flat since we broke up.
“You okay?” Austin glances at me then fixes his eyes on traffic again.
“Yes.” I force myself to calm. “Just fine.”
“My driving’s not worrying you?”
“No. You’ve always been a good driver.”
Which is true. Austin takes care of his cars and isn’t reckless. He likes to see what any vehicle can do, but he’s not a daredevil.
A man idles next to us, admires the Maserati, and gives Austin a thumbs-up. Austin returns the gesture.
The light changes, and Austin glides the car smoothly along. “Wow, I think you just gave me a compliment.”
“I did. Suck it up.”
He chuckles, the gravelly laugh I used to love. “I will accept and keep the compliment. Maybe take it out and stroke it every once in a while.”
More heat crawls along my skin. I have to stop this.
“We should head back.” I keep my voice as nonchalant as possible. “If you’re interested, I can reserve this one for you, or you can come back and do the track drive if you’re not sure.”
“Hmm.” Austin pulls around an SUV and makes a turn to the street that leads to our back lot. “I might have to takes several more test drives. See if I really like it.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure, Austin. Like every day for the next year?”
“Hey, that sounds good. I’ll take you up on that.”
My quick temper surges. “I—”
Austin bursts out laughing. “You are way too easy to tease. Always were.”
“Do you want the car or not?” My voice sounds harsh, but only because he’s making me nervous.
Austin gives me a wide-eyed stare. “How many high-dollar cars do you sell with that kind of sales pitch? What happened to coaxing and persuading?”
“You’re not a real customer. You came to look at this car to mess with me, didn’t you?”
Am I disappointed? Or happy to be with him again? I can’t tell, so I keep my frown in place.
Austin whistles. “Your ego hasn’t shrunk. I truly am interested in the car. How cool would it be to own and drive this? You asked me not to go to another dealer when we talked at the rehearsal dinner, which was fair, so here I am.” His offended expression fades and his lips twitch. “But I can’t help messing with you a little bit.”
He never could. “All right then. Do we start the order when we get to the showroom? Or do you walk away? It’s a sweet deal.” I try to soften my tone—a sale is never a bad thing.
Austin taps the steering wheel, as though he’s thinking. The gates of our dealership are coming up.
“Tell you what.” He slows the car as the gate rolls back, but he pauses instead of pulling inside. “I’ll take this car—only from you … if you’ll go out with me.”
Chapter Two
Austin
Brooke stares at me as though I just proposed we smash this beautiful automobile right into the wall.
Her dark brows draw down even more over her amazing brown eyes, and she gets ready to tell me to go to hell.
“For coffee,” I say hastily. My brothers would laugh at how fast I backpedal, but I’m not letting this opportunity go. “You can tell me more about the car and why I should buy it.”
She hesitates. Brooke doesn’t trust me, and I don’t blame her.
“I promise.” I lift my hands. “Coffee. Speech. You can sit on the far side of the table. This is a big decision for me. I love this car, obviously, but it’s a huge commitment.”
Brooke’s face softens. I see a humorous glint in her eye, and I expect her to make a crack about me and commitment, but she nods once.
“Okay. But I’m driving in my car, and I pick the place.”
“All absolutely fine with me.” I pull in through the gates, which roll shut.
I’m sorry to park the Ghibli and turn it off. I’ve not driven something this fine before, and everything in me cries out for it.
But another part of me is dancing like a maniac, because Brooke said yes to the date. I mean coffee—just coffee. Not a date.
I try not to spin on my toes like my brother Ben’s dancer fiancée, but it’s tough. My heels have wings as we walk back into the showroom.
Brooke is now part-owner of this dealership, and she can take off whenever she wants to sweet-talk a customer into a purchase. She tells Mike, who seems like a nice guy, that she’s gone for the day, and he bids her a cheerful good-night.
We step out into heat. It’s after six in the evening, but in June that means temperatures lingering into the hundreds. The sun is bright and we slam on sunglasses against it.
Brooke drives an older model Aston Martin that she obviously bought from the dealership. Sleek and sporty, it fits her. She kee
ps it locked in one of the garages, and a mechanic polishing one of the other vehicles inside gives her a wave.
The car windows are tinted enough that it shields the worst of the sun, plus the car is cool from sitting in the garage all day. Comfortable.
Brooke says nothing as she pulls out of the dealership, more gestures of farewell from the guys who work there. They like her, I can see, and not only because she’s a beautiful woman. There’s respect and warmth in their smiles. I’m glad for her, knowing how she struggled to achieve that respect.
The coffee house Brooke drives us to is five minutes away, on Camelback. I’d hoped for a longer time to talk to her, but we arrive before I can think of a conversation starter.
“Oh damn.” Brooke parks the car in front of the coffee house and gazes in dismay at the door. “Closed at six.” It’s six-thirty.
“We can try somewhere else.” I glance down the row of shops in the strip mall and focus on one at the end—a wine bar. Even better. “That place is open.” I point.
Brooke cranes her head. “I’ve never tried it.”
“Looks popular.” The cars in this lot are clustered around the front door. “Plus we’re already here.”
Brooke shrugs and shuts off her car. I don’t bother to try to run around to open her door for her—she’ll scowl at me and think I’m up to something. I want this to be a casual outing. Just friends.
As I let Brooke precede me down the walk, my gaze is drawn to the curve of her hips, the beauty of her legs as she strides. She’s wearing a tawny brown dress, businesslike and not too tight, her arms and legs bare for the heat. A pair of gold sandals with low heels complement the dress.
Brooke’s skin is dark, her black hair a satin wave. She sometimes streaks it blue, or red, but today it’s all her own color.
Never Say Never: McLaughlin Brothers, Book 3 Page 1