1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen

by Kristen Ashley

  Yeah, no kidding.

  My head tilts to the side at Guy’s voice, but I’m physically incapable of taking my eyes off the man, no, the god, in front of me. I’ve seen him on posters and billboards all over town, but they don’t compare to the breath-robbing, live version.

  “He has an old Chevy he needs help fixing up. I told him you’d be up for the job.”

  I hear the smile in Guy’s voice, but still can’t move my eyes to look at him. Car. He said something about fixing up a car.

  Pushing through my shock, I reach for my sanity. “What kind of—” My words break on a squeak. This is embarrassing. I clear my throat. “Car? What kind?” That sounds slightly better. I can—Oh my gosh!

  Jonah Slade is smiling.

  Framing his perfect straight teeth and his luscious full lips are two freakin’ dimples. Sanity gone, fan-girl lust-buckets owning and operating my mind, I bite back an audible swoon.

  He crosses his muscular arms across his broad chest, still smiling. “Ray? You’re, Ray?”

  He said my name. My cheeks heat.

  “Raven. My name is Raven. Guy calls me Ray.” My voice sounds weak and irritatingly pathetic. I try to sound more confident. “I guess it makes him feel better about having a girl working in his garage if he gives her a man’s name.” I study my feet and kick a pebble that isn’t there.

  “Raven. Great name.” The compliment is said under his breath, almost to himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  He’s continues to smile. If he doesn’t stop that soon, I’m never going to be able to concentrate on not making a fool out of myself. More than I already have.

  His arm extends to shake my hand. I look at it like it’s a live scorpion. Guy nudges me with his shoulder and motions for me to shake. I wipe my palm on my coveralls, hoping he thinks it’s grease I’m removing, rather than my nervous sweat.

  His large hand swallows mine in a firm handshake, the simplest gesture communicating strength and reliability. My shoulders relax, and I fall into the safety of the feeling. Static electricity buzzes between us. His thumb moves over my skin in the tiniest caress. Or did I imagine that?

  I’m captivated. I’m unable to see his eyes behind his dark glasses, but I feel them boring into mine.

  Without warning, his smile falls, and his eyebrows lower behind his shades. Oh, no. A simple handshake has now turned into holding hands. He thinks I’m weird. I pull back from his grip.

  “You, um, have some grease on your . . .” He motions to his own forehead. “Here, I’ll . . .” His hand moves toward my face. I lean back, but keep my feet firmly planted as he swipes his thumb across my forehead: once, twice, three times, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

  “Oh, yeah. I shivered earlier and . . .” I wipe my head, deciding not to disclose the fact that his voice made me feverish.

  I peek at Guy from the corner of my eye and watch the corners of his mouth twitch. Glad someone thinks my embarrassment is funny.

  “Your car . . . er . . . what—”

  “Jonah here is restoring a ’61 Impala.” Guy shows me mercy and saves me from making things more awkward.

  “That’s great. Old Chevys are my specialty.” I could dance with joy at my ability to speak in full sentences. “You want to bring it by?”

  “Actually, I . . .” His voice cracks. With a fist, he taps his chest and clears his throat. “Sorry, what I mean is I was hoping you might be able to work on it at my house.”

  My eyebrows hit my hairline, my jaw loose and swaying in the breeze.

  “I have a decent garage that has all the tools you should need.” He must’ve read confusion on my face rather than the earth-shattering shock I’m feeling.

  Guy nods with a Cheshire-cat smile.

  “The thing is it isn’t in running condition yet, and Guy said you get pretty busy around here. I don’t live far. Come by and check it out tomorrow. I could really use your trained eye to tell me what parts I need.”

  My mouth hangs open.

  Guy coughs away a laugh. “Sure, she can do that.” He looks back and forth between Jonah and me, his lips rolled between his teeth. What is so freakin’ funny?

  “Okay. What time?”

  He gives me the address to his house, and we agree to start at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.

  I’m going to be fixing up a car with Jonah “The Assassin” Slade.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Two

  Raven

  “Jonah freakin’ Slade? Are you shittin’ me, Rave?”

  I sip my overpriced cup of coffee to hide my smile. I decided rather than call Eve after work yesterday I’d wait for our coffee date this morning to tell her in person. I’m glad I did. The look on her face reminds me of a balloon that’s inflated past capacity. She’s about to burst.

  “You and ‘The Assassin’? Working together at his house? Like, alone?” Eve rattles off her list of questions, her last word ending on a squeal. I keep quiet. If I know Eve, she’s only getting started.

  “The tabloids call him The Las Vegas Casanova. He’s a total skirt chaser. Oh my gosh!” She slams both her palms on the table, getting the attention of everyone in the small coffee shop. “He’s totally going to hit on you. This is so exciting. I’m seriously going to pee my pants.”

  “Please don’t.” I try to keep my voice level but lose the battle as Eve’s exuberance brings out my own.

  She casually leans back in her chair while a wicked smile cuts into her perfectly made-up face. “Rave, you may be handing over your V-card by the end of the day.” She flips her straight, long blond hair. “I think UFL actually stands for the Universal Fu—”

  “Eve!” My eyes dart around the room. I’m hoping no one can hear my very loud, equally tacky friend.

  She shrugs her shoulders, a smile splitting her face. “What? I’m just saying . . .” Her eyebrows bounce beneath her perfect bangs.

  “Oh, stop it. He’s like my boss or something.”

  “Or something,” she mumbles through a chuckle.

  Evil butterflies churn in my chest at the thought of being touched by Jonah again. A simple handshake had me drooling like a dog in heat. A kiss would probably send me into a seizure.

  “It’s no big deal. He’s just a guy who needs help with a renovation.” Now if I could just get myself to believe that.

  My mind has been in a permanent state of shock since Jonah left the garage. I went through the rest of my day on autopilot as I tried to come to terms with what I’d agreed to do. I’m a bunny rabbit who’s stumbled into a bear cave.

  “No big deal? No big deal!” I’m in for it now. Her voice gets uncharacteristically serious. “You’re going to be working side by side with Las Vegas’ most eligible bad boy. He’s been linked with every actress, model, and showgirl in town. And you are superduper hot, girl. ‘The Assassin’ is going to take notice of you.”

  “But like you said, he has every woman in Vegas at his fingertips.” Jealousy flares in my gut at the thought of Jonah with a woman. “I bet he doesn’t even notice women who aren’t wearing miniskirts and six-inch heels.” Beautiful, glamorous women whom any man would be proud to have on his arm. I take in my current wardrobe: nothing beautiful or glamorous here. Working on cars all day doesn’t exactly call for anything other than denim and cotton.

  “Just make sure he pays you.” Eve’s demand takes me from my self-pitying thoughts. “He can certainly afford to. No more working for free.”

  “I don’t work for free.” My words are laced with the acid of my envy.

  Eve’s eyes get soft. She leans across the table. “You know what I’m talking about. What about that guy who couldn’t pay you to fix his alternator? Or the lady who couldn’t pay you to rotate her tires and change her oil? Hmm?”

  I roll my eyes and blow an errant hair from my face. “They didn’t pay me money. They traded. The guy gave me my tattoo as payment, and that lady was a single mom.” I play with the fraying threads on my jeans. �
�She gave me that chair in my apartment.”

  “I swear, Rave, you’re good through and through. Not a bit of bad in that sweet ass of yours.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Maybe you can pull out a little naughty for ‘The Assassin.’ Work out some kind of trade for your services.” She waggles her eyebrows.

  I suck in a breath on reflex. I know she’s kidding, but the joke hits too close to home. I thought moving out of my mom’s house would distance me from her line of work, but, apparently, geographical distance doesn’t equal emotional distance. She reads my expression and mouths a quick sorry. I wave her off and smile. It’s not her fault I’m damaged.

  “So what time is ‘The Assassin’ expecting you? Wouldn’t want to leave a hot piece like him waiting.” She moans and rolls her eyes back in her head. “He’s so sexy.”

  “Stop calling him ‘The Assassin.’ It’s Jonah or Mr. Slade to you,” I tease, kind of, and then slurp down the rest of my coffee. “I better get going. I told him I’d be there at nine-thirty.” My stomach flips as my own words sink in.

  “You better call me as soon as you’re done.” She flashes an evil grin and a wink. “And I want details.”

  ~*~

  Jonah

  “You heard me, Blake. I’m not saying it again.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, praying for patience.

  “So, let me get this straight. You’re cleaning your kitchen because a girl is coming over. Like a real one, over to your house. Is that correct?” His Perry Mason tone has me grinding my teeth.

  “Yeah, bitch. Except it’s not a girl. It’s a mechanic who happens to be female.” Why I’m even wasting my time to explain is beyond me. I remind myself to never answer phone calls from Blake again.

  “Potato fucking poe-tah-toe. God, you’re testy. Are you on the rag? I tell you what, grab a Midol and a brownie and call me in five to seven days.” He’s laughing at his own joke.

  “Moron.” I shut the dishwasher door and hit start.

  “I’m just stating the facts. You never have chicks over. It’s weird.”

  “News flash, pickle dick. The person who decorated my house was a girl. My cleaning lady, also a girl. This is no different.”

  “Then why are you cleaning your kitchen?”

  Because this is different. And the reason why it’s different kept me up all night. Every time I closed my eyes all I could see was her face. I would have brushed it off as a simple case of the I-wanna-screw-yous, but if that were true, I’d be picturing some other part of her anatomy. Not her face. Or the aquamarine color of her eyes, so unique, I had to fight from getting lost in them. Not the way she chewed on her bottom lip when she was thinking. And certainly not the way her cheeks turned pink when I touched her.

  “I’m cleaning my kitchen because it’s dirty.” I wipe down the counters for the second time.

  “Did my knee to the head do this to you? You got some kind of brain damage that turns you into a pussy?”

  “You’re hilarious, you know that?” Sarcasm laces my voice.

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve got to go. See you at training.”

  “All right. Let me know how your date goes.”

  “You never quit.”

  “That’s what she said.” His laughter sounds through the earpiece and I end the call.

  I shove my phone in my back pocket and head to the living room for a last once-over.

  This is ridiculous. I haven’t gotten all stirred up over a girl since Samantha Salazar in the fourth grade. I did everything to get that girl to like me. Even changed the way I dressed, only to find out later that she was looking for someone to do her math homework. And I did for an entire school year before I figured it out.

  That’s the thing about women. They know what they want, and they use their pretty faces and hourglass figures to get men googlie-eyed and panting. Then they shred them of their pride, time, and bank accounts. I’ve seen it happen a million times, and I’ll be damned if I allow that to happen to me.

  Raven’s probably no different. She practically radiates innocence and vulnerability. It’s an act, I’m sure. A girl who looks like her can’t be all that innocent. Just because she acts like no girl I’ve ever known before doesn’t mean that she’s not the worst of them.

  Shit. Why did I invite her to my house? That certainly wasn’t the plan when I went to the garage. I thought I’d have the Impala towed there and it would sit until Guy got around to it.

  Then I saw her: The way she walked out of the garage all rolling hips and sex. Her coveralls tied at her waist, and tight tank top that hugged her delicious curves. I had to cross my arms over my chest to keep from reaching out to trace the dip of her collarbone. A groan rumbles in my chest at the memory. She makes being a car mechanic sexy. Hell, she’d make collecting garbage sexy.

  Her silky, dark hair was pulled up to expose her gracefully long neck. Every time she turned to look at Guy, I could see the hint of a black tattoo where her neck flared into her shoulder. The urge to run my tongue along the gentle slope of her throat, to feel her fluttering pulse beneath my lips and taste her olive skin overwhelmed me.

  Yeah, this girl’s trouble.

  I need to work her out of my system, just like all the other girls I’ve been with. After sex, I’m done. I totally lose interest. I may have to find a new mechanic, but at least I won’t lie in bed every night having fantasies about getting to know her better. Wait, what? Getting to know her better? I don’t think I’ve ever fantasized about a woman completely clothed before.

  Holy shit, Blake was right. I’ve turned into a pussy.

  I’m shoved from my thoughts by the sound of music blaring. Is that . . . Johnny Cash?

  I creep to the door and check through the side panel window. A jet-black Chevy Nova with a white ragtop and white-wall tires stops in the circle drive right in front of the door. Sweet ride. Sweeter driver. Time for my game face.

  Raven sits, gripping her steering wheel. Her mouth hangs open as she stares at my house. One side of my mouth lifts into a smile. She likes my place. A rush of warmth engulfs my chest. What in the hell is the matter with me?

  Minutes pass before she moves out of her car. She leans into her still-open door. I rake my eyes over the contours of her perfectly round ass. She’s wearing hip hugging, low slung jeans with a rip in the knee and a bright blue tank top. I smirk when my eyes land on her shoes: black, low-top Chucks.

  She’s sexy in a way that lacks self-awareness, which only makes her sexier. Women in this town are overly aware of themselves. I know there are exceptions. But what are the chances that an exception who looks like a rule is about to push through my walls? Walls? I mean, house. Dammit.

  She walks toward the door in a fluid way, as if her joints have been oiled. It’s the same way girls walk when they know they’re being admired. But Raven does it with no one around. Is it possible that she has no agenda? A slight breeze blows her long dark hair, and, at the moment, I feel like the dorky math nerd admiring the high school cheerleader from afar.

  With my thoughts on her along with my eyes, I reach for the door. I pull it open. She jumps back with a squeak, her arm raised to knock.

  “Wow, sorry about that,” I say lamely. “I didn’t know you were here. I was just going to check the mail.” I make a show of opening the mailbox.

  “Oh, no problem.” She actually looks embarrassed, which is funny considering the ass I just made of myself.

  “Did you find the place okay?” I hold open the door and motion for her to come in.

  She lowers her head in an attempt to hide her face with her hair. She doesn’t move fast enough, and I see a faint blush kiss her cheeks as she moves past me. The same blush that had me tenting my boxers all night.

  “Yes, thank you.” Her eyes go wide as we walk into the living room. “Oh, Jonah, your home is beautiful.”

  My pulse quickens at the breathy way she said my name.

  Her head tilts as she peeks around
the corner into the kitchen. “Looks like fighting pays well.”

  Ah-ha! There it is.

  “You know who I am.” Not a question.

  “Of course, I do.” Her eyes roll to the ceiling then fix on mine. “You’re ‘The Assassin’.” She says my fighting name in an exaggerated announcer’s voice.

  Girls don’t usually tease me. And they hardly ever look me in the eye. I try hard not to smile, but her easygoing nature is infectious.

  “You’re a local hero.”

  My nose wrinkles at her overestimation of my status. “I don’t know about hero.” My lips turn up in a half smile. “Wouldn’t I need a cape for that?”

  A cape? Smooth. This girl makes me feel like a love-sick schoolboy without even trying.

  She quirks her lips and narrows her eyes in a way most women reserve for the bedroom. “Well, this is Las Vegas, Jonah.”

  God, my name sounds good on her lips.

  “In the City of Sin, we can use all the good guys we can get, cape or not.”

  She obviously doesn’t know my reputation. Many names have shadowed Jonah Slade, but good guy isn’t one of them. Usually I would think she was just trying to flatter me, but there’s a sincerity in her eyes that steals my breath.

  I stare into their blue-green depths. Her thick dark lashes flutter before her gaze drops to my lips. I swallow hard, resisting the urge to show her exactly what I could do to her with my mouth. Blood races in my veins, shooting south with a vengeance.

  “Is everything okay?”

  No, everything is absolutely not okay.

  “Yeah, of course.” I force myself to turn away from her piercing gaze. One more second locked in those eyes would have me worshipping at her feet, begging for just the tiniest taste of her perfect mouth.

  I need to pull my shit together, and fast.

  As much as my body craves her, I can’t seduce this girl. Sleeping with her will no doubt work her out of my system. But she’ll most likely get clingy and annoying like all the others. Something deep down whispers that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Having a girl like this begging at my door might be fun. I shake off the visual of Raven’s begging on her knees . . .