by Kira Blakely
His face was chiseled — an angular jaw, a sharp pointy nose, ridged brows and a long slanting forehead. His eyes matched his hair, a shining obsidian black. He had day-old stubble and deep dimples marked both his cheeks. He was in jeans and a plaid shirt, with his sleeves rolled up. But he wasn’t fooling me, those were definitely not his work clothes.
“Can I help you with that?” he asked, walking up to my car. I followed his every movement with my eyes. The way his long athletic legs moved, the muscles on his shoulders, how large his hands were. He placed one on the trunk of my car.
“I can manage, thanks,” I said, forcing myself to snap out of the embarrassingly lustful thoughts I was having of him. This was no time to gawk at a stranger. I was still late for work.
The man didn’t make a move, despite what I had just said.
“Are you sure? Is it your tire?” he asked.
I dropped my hands from my hips. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s my tire, and I’ll change it,” I snapped, surprising even myself with the tone of my voice.
His dark glittering eyes focused on me, on my body. It was like he was assessing me with a keen trained gaze, trying to figure out my shape under my clothes. That smile lingered on his face, and the dimples remained. Despite the mature look on his face and the dusting of gray around his temples, those dimples added a boyish charm to his appearance. I had to shake my head to get the thoughts out of my head.
“Is the spare in your trunk? Pop it open; I’ll haul it out for you,” he said.
I shook my head vigorously. “I can do it myself, thanks. You can leave now, I can manage.” My words came out in a jumble as he disoriented me further. As if the messed-up thoughts in my head hadn’t been enough. He remained where he was, with his hand on the trunk and I walked over to it. We were very close now and he stood his ground, not moving an inch. I couldn’t reach the clasp on my trunk because of him.
“I’m just trying to help. It’ll only take a couple of minutes if you just let me,” he said, a little authoritatively now. He seemed like a man who was used to getting his way.
“I know how much time it’ll take; I’ve done this before,” I snapped at him again. From the looks of him, I’d probably changed more tires than he had.
“But I’m here now, and I can do it for you,” he insisted and I got a whiff of his cologne as he remained standing in front of me. A strong musky masculine smell, like cedar. A scent that suited him. Up close, I could see his rugged bronze skin, the way his shirt stretched over the expanse of his chest. I didn’t even want to allow my brain to think about whether he had a six-pack hiding under that shirt.
He must have seen my cheeks flush because his smile widened.
“I’m not trying to be pushy, but I think you should just let me do it,” he said, finally moving his hand from the trunk.
“Why should I just let you do it? I’m telling you I’ve done this before and I can do it again,” I said, crossing my arms over my breasts. His gaze dropped briefly to them, and then he looked up at my face again. His smile hadn’t faltered for a second.
“You seem like a girl who is very hard to please,” he said then, in a slow drawl. I noticed the way his eyes glimmered. What was he trying to imply?
I shot him a fiery look and sensed my nostrils flaring. The mix of emotions from being so painfully attracted to his body, while at the same time trying to prove my point had taken complete control over me.
“Maybe you’re just used to girls who are pleased with one grand masculine gesture. Changing my tire isn’t exactly impressive,” I said, meeting his eyes with assertiveness. His brows arched, and his lips stretched farther. For some reason, he was enjoying this. Enjoying wasting my time.
“It’s cute that you think I’m trying to impress you,” he said, in a deep calm voice. It was like he only spoke in that even smooth decibel. It was hard to imagine this man angry or short tempered. But I knew better than to judge someone at face value.
“Why are you insisting on changing my tire then?” I asked.
His dark wavy hair shook as he laughed loudly, the sound ringing in my ears like a merry song. It was infectious and even though I had no reason to, I nearly laughed myself.
“Because I’m trying to be helpful. Jesus! What’s happened to chivalry?” he asked, shaking his head as his laughter began to die down. When I didn’t reply, he took a step away from the trunk and extended his hand toward it.
“Go ahead, feel free to change your own tire. I won’t stand in the way.” He looked at me with amusement in his eyes. Like he wasn’t buying that I could do it myself.
I shrugged, in a show of passive aggressiveness, and popped open the trunk. The spare tire was at the bottom and I pulled at it, aware that my butt was sticking up in the air as I bent into the trunk. I could sense that his eyes were on me, on my butt, and that he was smiling. What was he still doing here? Why wasn’t he just driving away?
I tugged and pulled at the tire, but I could only manage to lift it up a few inches. I’d forgotten how heavy these things were, and besides, I was self-conscious. I was worried about my sweater and top riding up, my jeans sliding down, this gorgeous man seeing my thong. I wasn’t comfortable; I couldn’t get down and dirty with this thing.
“Do you mind just leaving?” I said in an unfriendly voice, whipping around to look at him.
He was standing with that same dimpled smile on his face, enjoying himself.
“Why? What’s the problem?” he asked innocently, about to break into another laugh.
“I just need some privacy,” I said, glaring at him.
“To change your tire?” he asked, with mock-shock. The more my nostrils flared and my cheeks burned, the more fun he was having.
“You can go. I don’t need your help. I’ll be able to work better without the distraction,” I said in irritation. His unearthly handsome face was a distraction; that was the truth.
“I didn’t realize I was distracting you. I haven’t even flexed my muscles yet,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
I sighed deeply and met his eyes with a fiery narrowed gaze. “You are distracting me by talking.”
“Fine, I won’t say a word. You won’t hear a peep from me,” he said with a chuckle.
“And also by looking at me,” I added.
He let out a short laugh. “I can’t help myself,” he replied, running his eyes meaningfully all over my body, before resting them on my face again, “but if you insist, I’ll turn away.” With that, he turned around, crossing his arms over his chest.
I gulped. What the hell was happening? What was this guy playing at? I turned back to the trunk and started tugging at the tire again. This time, I managed to lift it out, and just as I took a step in the other direction, it slipped out of my hands, rolling and bouncing on the ground. He turned around just in time and grabbed it with both hands.
“You were planning on carrying it with those dainty arms all the way to the front of the car?” he asked, smiling up at me. He had a smug look on his face. I was embarrassed and pissed off.
“You know, you could just roll it like this to the front, yeah?” he added and demonstrated it to me, rolling the tire out to the front wheel.
“I knew that; I was just lifting it out. I can do the rest,” I said and the guy let the tire fall from his hands. He straightened his back and turned to look at me. The smile on his face had dropped a little; he looked slightly confused.
“I don’t get what the problem is; it’s not like I’m harming you in any way,” he said, sounding genuinely concerned. Like he was worried for my welfare.
I crossed my brows, challenging him with my eyes again. Who did he think he was? A rich handsome tourist who could just come over here and start changing everyone’s tires and stealing hearts?
“Why do you want to change it?” I asked, realizing that this was getting silly now.
“Because it would already be done, if we weren’t standing here bickering over who gets to do it,”
he said, with a gentle head shake that told me he thought my behavior was childish. His shoulders looked wide and strong. He could probably change my tires without even using both his hands. He had an athlete’s body and a supermodel’s face. The car he was driving gave away his financial status. It was hard for me to not judge him. It was difficult for me to not be suspicious of why he had stopped at the side of the road to help someone driving a car like mine.
He was looking back at me with a certain softness in his eyes. Like he wasn’t telling me something, a secret reason why he wanted to change my tire. And he was also right about the other thing; if I had let him do it in the first place, we could have been over and done with this already.
The time! What was the time? I looked at my watch and pressed my eyes shut and cursed silently in my head.
“What’s the matter?” he asked and my eyes flew open to look at him.
“I’m like forty minutes late for work now,” I said in a miserable voice that made him raise his eyebrows.
“Okay, get in my car. I’ll drive you to work and you can call a tow service to come pick your car up later,” he said, and without waiting for a response from me, he was already walking away to his car.
I didn’t want to have to admit to him that I couldn’t afford a tow service. If he was offering me a ride to work, I had no choice but to take it. I could always come back later and change the tire without him; without his hawk eyes watching my every move.
So, I followed him, into his sleek silver Mercedes that was filled with the scent of the same intoxicating cologne.
Chapter 4
Vincent
She looked small and delicate sitting inside my car, despite the quick-tempered fiery personality I had been privy to outside. I had just started my engine, and I quickly glanced at her beside me. She was sitting with her long legs crossed. I could tell her heart was racing a mile a minute. I had this sudden incredible urge to just throw my arms around her and give her a tight bear hug. She looked like she needed it.
She didn’t turn to look at me as I started driving. She was staring out the window, and we had been in each other’s presence for a few minutes now, in complete silence. Her hair was lustrous, curly and could not be tamed. Just like her, I thought and smiled.
“I’m Gemma. Gemma Ramsey,” she surprised me by declaring suddenly. I smiled at her, and noticed that she was looking at me like she was expecting some answers.
“Nice to meet you Gemma. I’m… Luke Stoltz.” At the last minute, I suddenly gave her my middle name instead of my first name. I was enjoying this pleasant interlude with her, and I knew once she knew who I was, everything would change. I was on vacation, and I wanted to enjoy the company of an ordinary girl for once, without wondering if she had ulterior motives.
Not that Gemma Ramsey seemed anything like an ordinary person. Even when she wasn’t talking, she gave off the air of having a million biting thoughts whirring around in that little head of hers. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, and she had a big mouth. No, Gemma Ramsey was no ordinary person, but I wanted to hear her voice again. She had struck a nerve in me somewhere that I couldn’t quite put a finger on. What was it about her that made me shift in my seat?
“Where am I taking you, Gemma Ramsey?” I asked, and our eyes met again. She gave me a look like she was about to roll her eyes, but she stopped herself just in time.
“Just keep driving, I’ll give you the directions when needed. I work at a diner,” she said, and I noticed the way she was twisting her fingers around on her lap. Despite the hardened, strong exterior, it seemed like this girl had her own set of insecurities that made her constantly nervous, jumpy.
She wasn’t like any other woman I had met before. For starters, she wasn’t shoving her breasts at me, or smiling at me demurely from under heavily mascaraed eyelashes.
“A diner?” I asked in some surprise.
“Did you think I did some other kind of work?” she asked, her face finally breaking into a smile. But it wasn’t a pleased smile; she was mocking me and herself.
“Not really, I hadn’t thought anything,” I said and exchanged quick looks with her. “Although, I will say that you struck me as a kind of person who has other dreams.”
Gemma jerked her head around to me again. When I met her eyes, they were ablaze, a dark smoky hazel in color. I had offended her somehow.
“Just because I’m a small-town girl? You think I spend my days daydreaming about a better life or something?” Her shoulders were heaving again.
“That’s not what I meant, I just thought maybe you had bigger ambitions, that’s all,” I said, trying to save the situation. I wasn’t lying. That was exactly what I thought. She struck me as the kind of girl who would fight for her ambitions. That a life working at a diner would never satisfy her.
Gemma sighed; her eyes had mellowed slightly. “I’m trying to get through a college degree, in biology, at a community college here,” she said in a quiet voice, like she was admitting something she didn’t want to.
“See, I knew it! That’s awesome,” I said excitedly. But Gemma didn’t share in my excitement.
“That’s what I thought. I figured I could get into med school after this,” she continued, still in that quiet meek voice.
“But that’s great, I’m sure you’re an ace student,” I said, wanting to touch her. I wanted to see that smile once more. I wanted to grab those small rounded shoulders, where her sweater had slipped off, revealing smooth porcelain white skin.
“Yeah, maybe,” she said, looking up at me again. The smokiness in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a softer, lighter hue. She appeared to be thinking about something else. Almost like she had even forgotten that she was in my car.
“So, you’re going to be a doctor. That’s impressive,” I said, trying to catch her attention again. I noticed the way her lips were glazed with a glossy pink shine, and her cheeks were still flushed. And try as I might, I couldn’t stop myself from chancing looks at her full breasts. They were hidden by her sweater, but I knew she was hiding a treasure. I had seen it when I first saw her standing there by the side of the road.
Gemma Ramsey seemed as though she didn’t even know how sexy her body was.
Chapter 5
Gemma
This was turning out to be a weirder day than I had expected it to be. I was in a Mercedes, with a man I had just met, admitting to him the one big ambition of my life. A man who had a name, uncannily similar to one of the wealthiest men in this country. Vincent Stoltz had just found the cure to Coeliac Disease. I had been reading about it in medical journals for the past few weeks with mild curiosity. Other than their names, the pharmaceutical billionaire and this guy driving me to work couldn’t possibly have anything in common, I figured. He was way too young, and way too good looking to be a scientific and business genius.
“And what is it that you do?” I asked him, trying to change the topic. Although I had initially met him with some annoyance, I knew I should be grateful to him for giving me a ride to work. He had no reason to even stop and offer to help. Now that I had the time to think about it, I knew he had done a good deed.
I had been bowled over by his unbelievably handsome looks, and I didn’t trust him because of the car he was driving. There was something fairytale-like about this man and the way we had bumped into each other. Almost too good to be true. The fact that I was confused, angry and desperate didn’t help either. I had ended up taking out my frustration on this kind stranger, when I should have been thanking him instead.
“Family business,” Luke said, looking ahead as he drove. I saw him in profile, how sharp his nose was, how his thin lips looked strong and kind at the same time. His neck was long, too, just like every other part of his body. Then my gaze dropped to the bulge in his pants. I was quick to look away. Focus, Gemma! Don’t bullshit yourself. You can fantasize about him in the privacy of your own room.
“What kind of business?” I asked him, in a rush. He looked ove
r at me and smiled. There were those dimples again! They were maddening.
“A little bit of this and that,” he replied, shaking his head gently.
I slid down a little in my seat, enjoying the comfort of his soft tan leather seats. I had never been inside a car like this before. Even the cup holders between us looked like they were plated in platinum. Whatever business his family ran, they were doing quite well for themselves.
“So, what brings you here?” I asked, forcing myself to say something.
“A retreat, with my department heads. Just a week to get away from the usual grind and get some meetings done,” Luke explained. I noticed how large his hands were again, as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. He was driving at medium speed, like he was in no hurry to get anywhere. I had forgotten that I was still late for work.
“And have you lived here all your life?” he asked me.
I nodded. “Born and raised, never lived anywhere else,” I said, my words choking a little in my throat. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice it.
“It’s a beautiful place to grow up,” he said, looking out at the mountains. I couldn’t agree with him, even though I knew what he was saying was true. I was lucky to have grown up here. But the grass was always greener, wasn’t it? I said nothing.
“Where do you want to go to med school?” he asked, and I gulped. I hadn’t thought that far. Just getting through this college, managing my bills, supporting my parents at the same time… those were my primary concerns. Every time I fantasized about escaping this town, I knew that I had no actual practical plans in place.
“Turn here at the next right,” I said, instead of replying to him. I was thankful for the diversion. I didn’t want to have to admit to him that I was beginning to believe I couldn’t ever go to med school. Not in the next ten years at least.
Luke turned right and continued driving, a little slower now that we were off the highway.
“Even the little shops and buildings here look serene, like little toy houses,” he commented, smiling out at the streets. I didn’t see the beauty in them anymore; they all looked drab and boring to me. He was enjoying looking at them though, and I was enjoying looking at him. Where did they make men like him?