by Lauren Dane
“Well, of course you should.”
He laughed as he led her toward the break room.
“We’ve got soda and water and I think those flavored water things with vitamins. Duke thinks they’re health food.”
“Damn, I want to work here.” She took in the break room.
“You don’t have a break room at Colman HQ?”
“We have a room with a fridge, a sink, and a microwave. My mother has a deep and abiding love of Costco, so she goes all the time and there are waters and sodas in the fridge. But you have ice cream bars. In a special ice cream bar cooler. How is that even a thing I never knew break rooms had? Now I’m questioning everything, Asa. My entire foundation is sort of shaken. If you say you have doughnut delivery I’m probably going to cry.”
“I won’t tell you, then. There’s a Top Pot up the street. I can take you there if you like.”
She smirked. “Are you mocking me, Mr. Barrons?”
Oh.
Yes.
He liked that bit of formality from her very much. Especially as it was a tease.
“If you get a hankering for ice cream in the middle of your day, feel free to come over and help yourself.”
She slid the top of the cooler open and pulled out one of the chocolate–chocolate chip bars and didn’t pay him any mind until she’d unwrapped it and found a seat. “What? Did you think my manners were good enough to turn down an offer of ice cream? I’m only human.”
He grabbed one of the same bars and joined her.
“So a job, huh?” she prodded, and then took a bite.
“Duke and I think you do good work. We like having plenty of people to call when we need good work done on our machines. Understand we’ll start small and simple to see what you can do. But given the stuff of yours we’ve seen, we’re not worried.”
She smiled. “Awesome. When?”
He watched her eat that ice cream and nearly broke down.
She wasn’t even really trying that hard to be sexy! He was a grown man with excellent self-control, and this woman made him crazy.
He should have called her back the week before to tell her they’d agreed to toss her some work. Could have had Duke call her.
He should have done a lot of things, but he didn’t want to. He wanted what was right there in front of him.
“Finish your ice cream and I’ll show you.”
“Excellent.” She sat back with a smile. “Today is a pretty good day. How are you? Other than super lucky to be here with me eating ice cream, which clearly is a yay.”
He laughed. He’d been stupid to resist this. She was fun to be with. “Any afternoon a man can take a break and eat ice cream with a beautiful woman is a yay.”
The watching-her-eat-it part was pretty fantastic too, though he’d refrain from saying that.
They finished their ice cream and he led her out toward the shop.
He cast a quick look at her clothes and shoes. She wore heels but not stilettos. “Watch your step.” Without thinking he put a hand at her elbow to steady her.
They stood in the back stairwell, just five steps up from the shop floor, but at this part of the stairwell it was just the two of them.
She looked down at where he held her, his hand against the fabric of her blouse, and then back up, her eyes going wide and then half-lidded.
The need was back, gripping him as the heat between him and PJ continued to build.
It grew. And grew until he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. His brain screamed at him to stop. Until his cock took over and shoved the brain far away.
Her lips opened on a sigh and he groaned as her taste flooded him, his tongue sliding over her bottom lip. She made a sound so sweet and demanding he’d have given her anything she asked for at that moment.
This was good. She caught his attention, to the point that nothing else registered.
Her bag was between them, which was good because he was so hard he’d have scared her if they were body to body. But she was so fucking sweet he ached for more. Even as she put a hand on his chest and he broke the kiss and stepped back.
He started to apologize, but the look on her face told him that would be a mistake. And he wasn’t sorry. He wanted more and he couldn’t have it, so he’d have to let that kiss be enough.
PJ supposed she was probably going to hell for not telling Asa she didn’t need his elbow because the soles of her shoes were treaded like work boots. She wore them all the time when she was in their different shop spaces at Colman.
But his hand was so big. And warm. And she liked it when he touched her. Then he’d kissed her. It surprised her, but she caught up quickly enough, opening to his mouth, to his tongue, which was quite talented.
He kissed her so well she forgot everything but where he touched her.
Sounds came from around the corner and she didn’t care. She should have cared, but she didn’t. She’d waited how long for him to do this? Wondered if she’d been imagining real heat between them even as she knew that hard-on he’d been sporting was real.
And it was better than she’d imagined it would be. The kiss and that hard-on.
She put her hand on his chest, and he groaned low in his throat and stepped back. She saw it in his features. He hadn’t meant to lose control. He was as surprised by that kiss as she was.
And he’d loved it as much as she had. But he felt guilty. She saw that too. If Asa apologized, she was going to kick him.
He thought better of it—maybe he noted the violence in her eyes—and waved a hand, indicating she should proceed.
Smiling, she moved along as he led her through the shop, bringing her to stand in front of a 1971 El Camino.
“You’re kidding me. Really?”
She was usually much more confident, but she wanted this so bad! Working on this truck would be such a fantastic job. As good a time as the kiss. Though she wouldn’t say that out loud.
“This is a pretty simple job. The client wants initials woven into a design on each door, below the handle. Give me three choices and I’ll pick one.”
“Nope.” She thrust her bag into his arms and began to walk around the truck.
“Nope?”
She laughed without looking up at him, her gaze roaming greedily over the El Camino. “Bet you don’t hear that often. I’m not giving you three designs. That’s a waste of my time. I don’t need to anyway. Who is your client? Male? Female? Young? Older? Letters in the name?”
Struck silent for long moments, Asa simply watched her. She clearly had something going on because she bent and took a picture of the area with her phone and then stood with a smile.
“I work freehand. If you don’t like my design I’ll remove it and refund your money. Can I work here or do you need me to take it off-site?” She waited for his reply, and then when it didn’t come immediately she moved to him. “Here’s the thing, I’m sure you’re thinking, What the hell, she should be grateful and do it the way I said. Maybe you’re right. But while I am grateful for the chance, this is creative for me. I have my own process and it doesn’t include you or anyone else but the owner of the car. I’m worth it.”
“That’s a bold claim.”
“I’m more than happy to show you.”
Oh danger, danger, danger.
Asa liked the way she flirted. Straightforward. She wasn’t overly coy.
He reminded himself she was too young. Even if she kissed like she was made for him.
And he had to admit, her refusal to provide three samples was reasonable. He liked her spark.
“You can do it here. We have painting bays. Client is male, thirty-eight. He’s a cop. Saved up for years for this job, so I want it to be fan-fucking-tastic, dig?”
One of her brows went up, the one with the ring. His cock hardened at the haughty expression it lent her features.
“Just so we’re clear, all my work is fan-fucking-tastic. You dig? I don’t do it if I don’t do it all the way. Why else would I be here?”
They stood there not speaking, letting that chemistry between them build. Again. It ebbed and flowed like that every time they were near each other. Playing with fire. He knew it. Suspected she did too.
Which made it even hotter.
Even harder to pull back each time from taking a step into something intimate between them. Which, of course, he’d complicated by kissing her. Still, he couldn’t find it in him to feel bad.
“We’re waiting on some custom pieces for the dash, so I’ll have one of my guys take the doors off and you can work on them while we wait.”
“What’s this guy like? Is he an Ed Hardy–wearing cop? Earnest cop next door? Hot cop you dated in secret back when you were a senior in high school?”
Fuck.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. He totally had to let that one go. There was no way he could go down that road.
“There’s a story?” he heard himself ask like he stood in another room.
“He was hot. Bad. Bad and hot. One of my best friends’ older brothers. He’s still hot, actually, but engaged. The stuff he taught me.” She drew in a slow breath, pleasured at the memory. Her lip caught a moment between her teeth and she looked up at him through her lashes. “I like older men, I suppose.”
He pressed the tip of one of his keys into his thigh to keep from taking her hint.
“He’s an inked cop who is super active in his community. Works with youth. He’s a very cool guy.”
She pulled a notebook from her bag—the one he still held—and scribbled things down here and there as they went back and forth for a while.
“If I get this right in one,” she muttered as she began to sketch, “when I’m done with this job you can give me the next one right after I deliver.”
Cocky.
He wished he’d had her kind of confidence at twenty-five. It had taken eight years in the army for him to learn how to get his emotions under control, and once he’d done that, he’d gotten his shit together and begun focusing on what he’d do in his life after he left the military.
But he shouldn’t be encouraging it.
“All right. And if you lose?”
Her gaze left the paper and locked with his. “Do you have some terrible punishment for me?”
And he planned to send Duke a case of beer for walking in right before Asa answered that question honestly.
Moment broken, she smirked and handed him the pad. “No need to discuss what happens if I lose. Because, duh.”
He looked down and then handed the pad over to Duke.
“This is for Mort?” Duke asked.
Asa nodded.
“Damn. You’re good, beautiful. And you have perfect timing because those parts just came in.” Duke looked over to her. “Can you do this now? This guy is one of our good friends. He’s waited for this a long time. If you can do it now we can get it to him a little earlier.”
“I need to run home and get my stuff. I can be back in an hour. I’m happy to do this for Mort.”
“I’ll have the doors moved into a paint bay for you.” Asa paused. “And when you’re done, your next job will be ready.”
She flashed them both a smile, grabbed her bag from Asa, and headed out, waving over her shoulder and saying she’d be back.
“Sweet fucking shit, she’s hot. Just like a really bad girl wrapped up in a sweet girl-next-door costume,” Duke said as they watched her drive off.
“She’s just a kid.” Asa flagged one of his guys down and told him to get the doors off and moved.
“That person who was just here, trading so much sexual whatever you two have that I could feel it five feet way? That’s a woman, Asa.”
They continued on to Asa’s office. Once they were out of earshot of everyone else, he resumed the conversation. “What I’m looking for is on the more experienced end of the spectrum. That woman who was just here is hotter than fire, absolutely. But what I want from a woman isn’t in her wheelhouse.”
Duke scoffed. “Why? You’re kinky, not gay. So obviously she has what you need in her wheelhouse just fine.”
“Shut the fuck up. You know what I mean.”
Asa liked percussive toys. Crops and paddles, mostly. He loved the sound of the crop splitting the air right before it landed on skin. Loved the crack of that contact. Loved the sound a woman made when she really liked it.
He couldn’t imagine PJ’s reaction if he ordered her over his knees, hands flat on the ground as he paddled her, each strike placed right so that the force traveled straight to her clit.
Of course, now that he’d thought it, the image of her, skin pinked from a leather slapper, whimpering until he walked his fingertips from her thighs up through her pussy had cemented itself in his imagination.
She’d be wet. So wet and hot her body would melt around his fingers when he teased inside.
“Yeah, so if you could stop thinking about whatever it is you want to do with her, that’d be great. You’re making me uncomfortable now.”
Asa gave Duke a look. “Can I help you with anything else? In case it missed your notice, we’re at work and there are things to do that aren’t about fucking with me for amusement.”
“None of them are as much fun, though. I need to call to check in on a special order I thought was coming today instead of your stuff. When I’m done I’ll come out and help.”
“For a dick you’re pretty cool sometimes. Thanks.” Asa grabbed one of the hair band things Lottie kept bringing him—so he’d stop using her rubber bands—got his hair up and out of his face, and headed down to get back to work. And to pretend his office didn’t smell like that spicy perfume she wore.
CHAPTER
Six
Julie gave her an encouraging smile from her place at the other end of the table. It was the second Wednesday of the month, so all the top management had gathered in the conference room for the staff meeting.
Unfortunately, their father was still in California. PJ had really hoped to impress him with her presentation.
Shawn looked down at the agenda and then over to PJ. “You’re up.”
“As you know, I’ve been looking at ways to further integrate Colman Enterprises branding into other sectors of the industry, with an emphasis on the hot-rod and custom-build people. Over the last three months I’ve done custom paint work for several shops in the area, including Twisted Steel.”
Her uncle frowned. “We don’t sell paint, Penelope, we sell tires.”
“I’m aware of that, which is why I’m working on this presentation. It doesn’t all have to be tires. We already offer other custom services as the need arises with some of our bigger clients. I have the skill, and I’m continuing to build on that. I just attended a class a few weeks ago and plan to keep on with that sort of education and training. Over time my connections will continue to grow as my reputation does.”
“It’s a waste of time.” Fee was grumpy and had been divorced five times. She wasn’t sure if he got divorced a lot because he was grumpy or if getting divorced a lot made him grumpy. Whatever the case, he thought women were stupid and helpless and that she and Julie should shut up, play nice, and let the men run Colman. He liked to point out his daughters as examples of this.
One of these days PJ was going to tell him he shouldn’t confuse his estrangement and half abandonment of his daughters with being well behaved. They avoided him because he was a terrible, toxic person.
“It’s not a waste of time, actually.”
“How much Colman money did you fritter away playing with paintbrushes?”
“If you let her finish a sentence she might be able to give us specifics on the financials of this, Fee.” Shawn said this to their uncle without looking at him. Her brother winked at her and also gave her a definite push.
Talk money.
“Right now as vice president, I have accounts. Some of them are pretty important, though most large accounts are with Jay and Dad, which makes sense. I most certainly earn my keep. In fact, in ten of the last eightee
n months I’ve been in the top two sales slots. But if you split my clients between Shawn and Jay, I could handle the custom paint work on my own. We have bays here and the accounts with the paint suppliers I need. I don’t use brushes usually, but I already have the equipment.”
“And we pay you to play while we take a loss?”
She reminded herself not to rise to the bait her uncle tossed her way. Instead, she took a deep breath and continued as if he weren’t being a disrespectful asshole. “No. Actually, I believe I can make as much money, if not more, with custom jobs. I recently spent several months learning how to mix and create custom colors. Not a lot of people take the time and get certified, which means my work is not only truly custom, but at the upper end of the spectrum especially, I’m rare. Which means as time goes on, I’ll continue to make money for Colman. I’ll be doing something I love to do, something to serve car people, which is why we’re here, isn’t it? Bottom line? It’s profitable. You don’t need me to sell tires. You have plenty of people who can do that just fine.”
“We don’t sell custom paint. That’s not what we do.”
“We didn’t sell tires at one point either,” Julie said. “Shawn, Jay, me, and PJ, we’re the future of Colman. If we’re allowed to shape it as we go, to fit who we are as a family moving into the future, it’s going to remain vibrant. PJ is smart. She’s talented, and those grease monkey shops love her. They love her, they love Colman. I just can’t see this as a losing situation. Especially when she’ll be bringing a profit in.”
“She claims.”
PJ hit a button on her keyboard and an image popped up on the big screen at the end of the table. “Those are my receipts for the last three months. Broken down per job and by profit after expenses.”
There was savage satisfaction when her uncle’s face changed as he added it all up.
“Obviously we need to establish things like hourly rates and that sort of detail, but this is not only viable it’s smart. This is adding to what we do in a way that is relevant to me as a Colman but also relevant to car people, which is part of our mission statement.”
He frowned again. “Just because we can do something, young lady, doesn’t mean we should.”