by Lori Foster
She strolled through the quiet, empty reception area and into the back garages, a smile on her lips as she recalled how she’d touched and stroked Jace through his briefs, and that’s all it had taken for him to lose control with her. She’d been awed by that feat. Watching him let go of his precious restraint, and feeling the extent of his need for her, had brought her to climax—a second glorious time in a row.
Tonight, she wanted to feel every inch of his shaft inside her, wanted to experience being filled to overflowing with the heat and strength and scent of him, with nothing between them. She wanted that intimacy, needed that unforgettable memory, before she had to let him go.
Since closing time on Saturday for Jace’s shop was in a half an hour, at one o’clock, there were only a few mechanics on duty who were finishing up basic vehicle services, such as rotating tires and oil changes.
“Hey, Gavin,” Leah said, approaching the garage manager from behind as he tightened the lug nuts on a tire. “Do you know where I can find Jace? He’s not in his office.”
Gavin cast a quick glance over his shoulder at her, then did a double take—obviously stunned by the difference from yesterday’s conservative secretarial outfit to the formfitting jeans that laced up at the front, and the peach-colored top that crossed snugly over her breasts and nipped in at the waist—revealing that she did, indeed, have a bit of cleavage when the right kind of push-up bra was worn. Gavin abruptly lifted his gaze from her chest to her face, his expression suddenly sheepish. “I’m sorry, what did you ask me?”
Leah bit back a grin. The other man’s reaction definitely backed up Jace’s claim that men were visual creatures. For her, dressing this way was about self-assurance and presentation. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that she did have what it took to capture more than a passing glance from those of the male gender.
She’d applied Jace’s advice about “baiting the hook” when it came to turning a man’s head, and she was prepared to show him that she was a quick learner. Last night she’d worn a dress that had garnered its fair share of attention at Red No. Five, and this morning she’d gone shopping and bought a few fun weekend outfits. And it appeared that other men weren’t immune to her transformation, either, though she was certain that Brent would be less than thrilled with her new selection of playwear, since he preferred her to dress more on the subdued side.
She knew she ought to feel a twinge of guilt about that, but this weekend wasn’t about Brent, she reminded herself. It was strictly about her and what she wanted, and she intended to enjoy her newfound sensuality to its maximum potential.
Geared up even more now by her thoughts, she was anxious to find her weekend lover. “Do you know where I can find Jace?” she asked again, and lifted the white deli bag she held in her hand. “I brought him lunch.”
Gavin cleared his throat, recomposed himself, and hooked his finger toward the back of the establishment. “Uh, yeah, he’s out in his private garage.”
“Thanks.” She sauntered past the other man, and feeling his eyes on her as she walked away, she put an extra feminine sway into her hips.
Jace’s private garage was located at the far end of the shop, separate from the other bays. Normally, he stored his Chevy Blazer there during the day while he worked. But she’d seen the vehicle parked out front, which was odd, since Jace was so finicky about his meticulously detailed SUV, and liked to keep it covered as much as possible.
As soon as she entered the last adjoining building, she realized why his Blazer hadn’t been parked in the garage. Another vehicle had taken its place. And just like yesterday, she found Jace bent over the hood of a car as he worked on the engine—this one an old sporty classic Chevy Camaro that had been restored to its former beauty.
“Time for a break,” she said lightly, announcing her presence. “And I hope you’re hungry.”
Jace ducked his head out from beneath the hood, straightened, and turned around. “I’m starved, actually…” His cheerful voice trailed off as his surprised gaze took in her new and improved outfit. His smile faded into a frown. “Jesus, Leah, you can’t come through here looking like that.”
She lifted a brow, amused by his disconcerted attitude. “Like what?” she prompted, curious to know what he found so objectionable about her fashionable jeans and top.
“Like…like…” Frustration edged his tone, and he waved his hand in the air between them and shook his head, clearly at a loss for words.
She set the deli bag on a nearby workbench, refusing to let him off the hook so easily. “What happened to your lecture about giving men an incentive to look? I was just applying what you taught me, and I thought you’d be impressed by the results.”
“I am,” he said, his reluctance to admit as much obvious. Heading to the sink at the back of the garage, he vigorously scrubbed his hands and arms up to the elbows with cleaning solvent, and glanced back at her. “It’s just that…that my guys aren’t used to women traipsing through the garage wearing something so…so provocative and tempting.”
She smiled, undaunted by Jace’s forthright remark. On the contrary, it delighted her. “Yeah, Gavin’s jaw did drop a little bit when he saw me.”
“And you seem pleased by that.”
She shrugged unapologetically. “It was flattering.”
Jace grumbled something beneath his breath as he ripped off a roll of paper towels and dried his hands.
She batted her lashes playfully at him. “Why, Jace, I do believe you’re acting jealous, and a bit possessive.” And it seemed much more like a lover’s jealousy than brotherly protectiveness; she liked that change.
He drew a long, slow breath and pitched the wadded paper towel into a nearby trash can. “I just don’t think you want to give guys the wrong impression, especially by wearing a pair of jeans that look like with one tug of that leather tie, they’d slide right off your hips and drop to your knees, and a top that makes your breasts look like they’re going to spill out of that bra you’re wearing.”
So, he’d noticed, which made the bra well worth the astronomical price she’d paid for it. “It’s amazing what under-wire and a bit of push-up support can do for a woman’s figure, don’t you think?”
He grunted in response and came to a stop in front of her, bringing with him the clean, delicious scent of orange-citrus.
She sought to understand why he seemed so piqued with her, when he’d been the one to suggest a more visually appealing package to tantalize a guy’s senses. “So, are you trying to say in that roundabout way of yours that you just want me to look sexy for you, and no other man?”
He lifted a finger between them, and his lips pursed. “I didn’t say that.”
No, he hadn’t, but she would have been thrilled if he had.
“I just don’t want you to take these lessons to the extreme, because there are men out there who’ll misinterpret your signals.” His tone gentled, and he brushed tousled strands of hair off her cheek. “You come across sensual and confident, and guys see that as a huge turn-on and a green light to proceed.”
She relished his touch, and felt his caress all the way down to the tips of her breasts. “All I care about is whether I’m turning you on. I’m not out to deliberately impress anyone else, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the attention doesn’t feel good for a change. I just want to enjoy it for a little while with you.”
With a sigh of defeat, he pressed his forehead to hers and hooked a finger into the front waistband of her jeans, drawing her hips closer to his. “Fair enough, but I have to warn you, if anyone is going to be pulling these ties of yours open, it’s going to be me. At least for this weekend.”
She laughed at his low, possessive growl, even as that qualifier, at least for this weekend, became a vivid reminder of where she stood with Jace—that he was hers for a very short time, for an exciting, forbidden fling that would inevitably end and become nothing more than a sensual memory, one she’d always treasure. And she hoped she’d become
a fond recollection for him, too.
Her initial goal for this weekend had been to indulge her desires for Jace, to fulfill the fantasies that crowded her head at night, and ultimately to shake him from her mind and her heart. Unfortunately, with every lesson they engaged in, with every touch and kiss and illicit caress they shared, she wanted him even more, not less.
Refusing to let those tangled emotions encroach on her time with Jace, she rerouted her thoughts back to his sexy threat. “Since I don’t think it would be too appropriate having my pants drop to my knees with your mechanics still on duty, let’s eat lunch.”
Jace let Leah slip from his embrace and watched as she cleared a spot on the workbench to make room for their meal. She set tools aside and spread out paper towels over the wooden surface, seemingly unaffected by the less-than-sterile environment.
He came up beside her and stopped her before she could set out their lunch. “You know, we can eat in my office where it’s fairly clean.”
“I kind of like it back here.” Brushing his hand aside, she continued with her task, placing a wrapped sandwich on his place setting, then hers. “It’s quiet and private and I feel like I’m inside some secret male domain.” Her eyes sparkled with fun-loving amusement.
“You are,” he admitted, and accepting that she was truly okay with eating in his garage, he retrieved a soda and water from his stock of drinks in the fridge beneath the workbench. “Not many people, other than my mechanics, come in here.”
She slanted him a curious look that caused her hair to tumble temptingly over her shoulder. “And why is that?”
“Because this garage is mine, and it’s quiet and private,” he said, using her own words as he dragged a padded stool over for her to sit on. “It’s a sanctuary for me in here, a place where I can escape to immerse myself in what I love the most.”
A knowing smile tipped the corners of her glossy lips. “Tinkering with cars?”
“Yep.” He unwrapped his sandwich, not at all surprised to discover that it was pastrami with mustard and pickles, his favorite. “This private garage also reminds me of who and what I am, and all that I’ve accomplished.”
“And you’ve definitely come a long way,” she said, then took a bite of her own turkey and cheese sandwich.
“I’m constantly amazed how taking on a job at a gas station as a grease monkey at the age of sixteen led to owning my own car repair business.” It was a venture he hadn’t been able to accomplish alone, though, and he was well aware of the people who’d made such a difference in his young, undisciplined life. “I was fortunate I had a lot of mentors along the way who saw potential in me, and kept me on the straight and narrow. Teachers, employers and your family, too.”
“I’ve always been very proud of you, Jace,” she said softly. “And my parents have, too.”
He met her gaze and held it. “I owe them a lot.” He certainly owed them much more than fooling around with their daughter, yet no matter how selfish, he knew there was no way he could have refused Leah, or himself, this weekend together.
“You owe them nothing.” She rewrapped her half-eaten sandwich, and stuffed it back in the deli bag. “They love you as if you were their own son. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Yet despite the Burtons’ unconditional acceptance, he’d always been plagued with deeper uncertainties instilled by a mother who’d never been there for him when he was growing up. Jace had wanted her love first and foremost, and it had never been forthcoming. If anything, she’d resented his presence, especially after his father had walked out on them. According to Lisa Rutledge, Jace looked just like his father, and that had been enough for her to ignore his existence and drown her bitterness with alcohol and faceless, nameless men.
Now, she was dead and gone, and he was left with the deep-rooted inability to sustain a long-term commitment with a woman, an inability to love strongly enough, because a part of him feared the same kind of rejection. Over the years, it had been easier and less painful to keep women at a distance and remain a bachelor than to take that emotional leap.
Yet sitting beside him was the one person who made him ache for that intimate emotional bond, who tempted him to take those risks. But Leah deserved more than he could ever give her and, regardless of their sensual weekend together, she had Brent—a polished, sophisticated executive type who was more suited to Leah than the simple, ordinary kind of guy Jace would always be.
“If it wasn’t for your brother’s friendship so early on in my life, and your family’s unconditional support and guidance, God only knows where I’d be right now,” he said, and shook his head. “I’d probably be some hoodlum evading the law.”
“But you’re not,” she said, and rested her palm against his jaw. The tender gesture told him how much she’d always believed in him—possibly more than he’d ever believed in himself. “You’re a talented mechanic and a successful businessman, Jace.”
Still, insecurities lingered. “What I am is a man who is usually covered from wrist to elbow in grease.” That was his daily reality, and one that turned most women off when they realized what his work entailed.
She smiled at him, a lilting, flirtatious grin that caused a rush of heated awareness to surge through him. “And when you wash it all off, you smell like a big, juicy orange that I want to take a big bite out of.”
Finished with his sandwich, he crumpled up the wrapper, tossed it into the trash, and slanted her a searching glance. “And what would you do if I missed a spot of grease and smudged some on you?”
She looked at him oddly. “I’d wash it off,” she said, as if the answer to his question was a simple one.
He downed a long drink of his soda, then said, “Grease doesn’t wash off silk at all. It stains permanently.”
Brows raised inquisitively, Leah crossed her arms over her chest, which served to prominently display the upper swells of her small, firm breasts. “And how would you know that?”
The tips of his fingers itched to caress the soft, plump upper curves spilling from the neckline of her blouse, but instead he crushed the empty aluminum can in his hand and pitched it into a recycle bin. “Experience, unfortunately.”
“Hmm,” she replied thoughtfully. “Do tell.”
He hadn’t meant to share details of that humiliating ordeal, but even now it served as a reminder that he was and always would be a blue-collar mechanic. “A woman I was dating a while back was impressed to learn that I owned my own business, until she unexpectedly stopped by one day and realized that I actually work on the cars in my shop,” he said wryly. “When I accidentally brushed against her arm, you’d think I’d committed murder by the way she shrieked and carried on about her designer silk blouse being streaked and ruined by grease.” His tone was harsher than he’d expected, and he cleared his throat. “Pretty nice, huh?”
“Pretty shallow,” she countered, and gave a snort of disgust.
He smiled, appreciating the way she so vehemently defended him. “Women are initially impressed that I run my own business, but once they learn I repair cars for a living and maintain a modest lifestyle, they tend to become completely disenchanted. The fact that I work in the garages turns them off, and they move on to someone more exciting.”
“They obviously weren’t in the relationship for you.” With a sexy glimmer in her eyes, Leah closed the short distance between them, her chin lifting sassily. “Unlike myself, who wouldn’t mind having a handprint or two on my person as a sign of your possession…right here—” she grasped his wrist and placed his big palm on her jeans-clad bottom “—and here,” she said, and curled his long fingers around the lush softness of her breast.
He skimmed his thumb over the tight nipple beading against his hand, and kneaded the luscious curve of her ass, thrilled by her brazen and arousing advances. Luckily, he didn’t have any grease left on his hands, but a part of him wished he did, just to be able to mark her as his in a very elemental, territorial way. But, since permanent handprints weren’t poss
ible, he’d just have to claim her in the only other way available.
Squeezing her bottom, he drew her hips to his and bent his head for the deep, hungry kiss he’d been craving since she’d first walked into his private garage. But before their lips could so much as touch, the intercom on the wall buzzed, interrupting the moment and causing Leah to jump out of his embrace, her eyes wide and startled.
“Jace, it’s after one, and we’re closing up the shop,” Gavin announced. “Do you need anything else before we leave?”
Jace pressed the connect button as Leah moved away toward the Camaro parked in the garage. “Just make sure the bays are secure, and lock up the front on your way out.”
“Will do,” his manager said. “Have a good weekend, and I’ll see you early Monday morning.”
Jace disconnected the call and returned his attention to Leah, more than a little disappointed that the sensual mood between them had been shattered. So, instead, he watched as she caressed her hand lovingly over the smooth, glossy hood of the vintage vehicle, painted a bright red with two white racing stripes down the center.
“When did your auto shop start working on classics?” she asked curiously.
“We don’t. This is mine. I just got it.” He came up beside her, wishing those hands of hers were on his body instead of the car. “I’ve wanted a ’67 Chevy Camaro since I was a teenager, and this muscle car was too good a deal to pass up. What do you think?”
“I think it’s hot, and a total chick magnet,” she said teasingly. “Do you mind if I test it out?”
“Not at all.” He opened the driver’s side door for her, but instead of sliding behind the wheel, she pushed the front seat forward and crawled into the back. “There’s not a whole lot to see and do back there,” he said, ducking low to see her.
She reclined against the upholstered seat and shook her head in disagreement. “Don’t you think, as a teenager, you would have found plenty of things to do back here with a girl who was hot for you?”