Rex

by Lori Wilde

  Mike watched them leave, his complete attention focused on Sophia. He loved the way her hips swayed beneath that tight red skirt and how her curly blond hair bounced about her shoulders. She was so gorgeous, and he wondered what her lips tasted like.

  “What in the hell are you thinking?” he growled under his breath.

  He unwrapped his peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, but somehow lunch lost its appeal. Darn Sophia Shepherd and her sexy ways! She had him thinking dangerous thoughts.

  Especially considering what he’d overheard when he’d first come into the room—Sophia telling Amber she was going to make Rex fall in love with her!

  Mike stared at his sandwich, trying hard to ignore the knot in his throat. The large-faced clock over the door struck noon, and people surged into the break room, laughing and talking. He returned their greetings absentmindedly, his thoughts on Sophia and what he should do about her.

  He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed pensively. So, she planned to marry her boss? A man she’d never even met in person. He could only draw one conclusion. She wanted Rex for his money.

  Sipping his tepid coffee, he winced.

  She was attracted to him as Mike the handyman. He wasn’t wrong about that. There was no mistaking that hungry look in her blue eyes when he’d almost kissed her in the basement corridor that morning.

  No denying the tremor that had run through her body when he touched her. No ignoring the sharp current of sexual electricity coursing between them.

  What would she do when she discovered that Rex Michael Barrington was none other than Mike Barr, the office handyman?

  Mike snorted. Maybe going undercover in his father’s company had not been such a great idea. Eight months ago, it had seemed like the smart thing to do, getting the lay of the land before Dad retired.

  Since Rex had been in Brazil for the past ten years, setting up and running the South American division of Barrington Oil and Gas, few employees had ever seen him in person, especially at the Trans-Pecos location.

  His older brother Mark had been the one to run the Rascal division. Now Mark was in charge at the office headquarters in Houston, and Rex would slide into Mark’s old spot here in Rascal when their dad retired.

  Posing as the office handyman had given him an insider’s view of the company that he would not have any other way.

  So far, it had been an eye-opening experience, although not always a comfortable one. He’d caught one employee stealing and another selling trade secrets to their competitors. Based on the information he’d gotten as Mike the handyman, his father had fired both employees. While the charade had worked well, Rex couldn’t help feeling underhanded.

  And now there was this business with Sophia.

  When he’d asked Polly Peel to name Sophia as his assistant from the pool of executive assistants, he’d chosen her for her exceptional organizational skills. But it hadn’t taken long, through texts, phone calls, and emails for them to develop a close working relationship.

  That Sophia was a traffic-stopping beauty was secondary, but Mike had to admit, he enjoyed looking at her.

  Yet could he trust a woman who openly plotted to marry her boss? What should he do about it? He could have her transferred...or…

  Teach her a lesson.

  Could he turn the tables and make Sophia fall for him? Could he get her to see beyond financial trappings to the man beneath the exterior?

  Rex had been burned before. He would not become emotionally invested in a woman until he knew for sure she wanted him for himself and not for the Barrington name. Could he get her to fall in love with Mike the handyman?

  While Sophia was scheming to make Rex Barrington fall in love with her, he’d do a little scheming of his own.

  Smiling, Mike pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He had a goal. All he needed was to put his plan into action.

  And there was no time like the present.

  Sophia left the office at five thirty, carrying a notebook computer filled with work. Most everyone else had already gone for the day, but Sophia frequently worked after hours to complete projects for Rex, and today was no exception.

  However, she didn’t mind. She wanted to prove to her boss she was a hard worker. Someone he could always rely on. Someone who would be there for him through thick and thin. Someone he could trust with his life.

  She left the building through the side entrance, walking past the masonry wall flush with climbing bougainvillea and surrounded by oleander hedges.

  The relentless August heat followed her through the parking lot, beading sweat on her brow. Removing the scarf from her neck, she blotted her forehead and thought of a large glass of tea poured over crushed ice.

  Key fob clutched in her right hand, she opened her car door. The seat was hot, despite the weather guard she’d placed in the window to protect the dashboard from the sun. She should have parked facing east not west.

  “Ouch, ouch, ouch.” She settled onto the heated seats. One of these days, she would move to a balmier climate. She would already have left Rascal if it hadn’t been for her mother.

  Opening the vinyl console between the driver’s seat and the passenger side, Sophia took out a paper napkin and wrapped it around her hand to protect her skin while she started the car.

  Then she heard an ominous click and nothing else.

  No! Not more car problems.

  Sighing, she sank back against the seat. In the last three weeks, she’d had to buy a set of tires, a battery, and two headlights. The car was twelve years old with over a hundred and fifty thousand road miles and held together by little more than her prayers.

  Between living expenses and her mother’s ongoing medical bills, Sophia existed from paycheck to paycheck. She couldn’t afford for something else to go wrong with the car.

  Taking a deep breath, she blotted her brow again before trying the ignition once more.

  Nothing.

  What was she going to do now? Sophia moistened her lip with her tongue. She didn’t even have enough credit on her account to call an Uber.

  If only she had left work on time, she could have hitched a ride with a co-worker.

  What now?

  One thing was for certain, she couldn’t stay here in the roasting car. Sophia opened the door and got out, scanning the asphalt parking lot for a vehicle belonging to someone she knew. Surely, she wasn’t the only one working late.

  At the far end of the lot, there was a blue van parked next to a compact foreign car and beside that was...

  A motorcycle.

  With a man standing beside it, donning a helmet.

  Oh, no. Please not Mike. Why did it have to be Mike?

  Sophia gripped her keys tighter. She’d rather spend the night in her office than ask him for a ride.

  Mike straddled the Harley and revved the powerful engine.

  Had he seen her? If he hadn’t already, he would soon. There was no leaving the parking lot without driving past her disabled vehicle.

  Mother was home. Alone. And although Jannette Shepherd did all right throughout the day, she needed help to bed at night. Sophia couldn’t stay at the office.

  Pride goeth before a fall, Sophia thought as she shouldered her purse and marched toward Mike.

  4

  She stood there with her thumb stuck out as if she were hitchhiking. Mike pulled to a stop, raised the visor on his helmet, and grinned.

  “Going my way?”

  “I need a ride. My car’s dead.”

  “Shame.”

  “If you can just give me a lift, I’d be eternally grateful. I’ll call a tow truck from home.”

  “How grateful?” His grin widened.

  “Grateful enough to buy you dinner.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Sand Mesa Heights.”

  His eyebrow lifted. Obviously, he knew the area.

  “That’s a long way off,” he said, thankfully not pointing out it was also located in an older part of Rascal whe
re the neighborhood had fallen into disrepair. That was another reason she couldn’t let her mother stay by herself at night.

  “I’ve lived there all my life,” Sophia said defensively, jutting out her chin, daring him to comment. She couldn’t help where she came from.

  “You’ll need a helmet,” Mike murmured. “I keep an extra one in the maintenance office.”

  “Why?”

  “Never can tell when you might find a lovely lady looking for a ride.” He winked, and Sophia wondered exactly how many women had ridden double on the Harley.

  “Want to come inside with me?” He grinned again.

  A shiver of response raced up her spine. “I’ll wait here,” she said, not trusting herself to be alone with him in an empty building. Her attraction to him was that strong.

  “Back in a flash.”

  Sophia waited while Mike got off his bike and trotted back into the building. She shouldn’t be so excited, and yet she was. She wanted to ride behind him, to feel the vibrating strum of that powerful engine between her legs.

  She watched Mike ascend the stairs as the senior Mr. Barrington came down them.

  Thurgood Barrington was a kind, fatherly sort with excessive pride for the company he’d built from the ground up. He and Mike stopped on the steps and exchanged pleasantries. Mike pointed in her direction.

  Mr. Barrington waved.

  Sophia wriggled her fingers. This is your opportunity. Flag down Mr. Barrington and ask him to take you home.

  Nice as Mr. Barrington was, he intimidated Sophia with his keen, intelligent brown eyes and expensive Bentley. But if she rode with him, she could ask him about Rex. Then again, she’d miss the chance to hang on to Mike’s firm waist.

  Torn, Sophia hesitated. Be smart, go with Mr. Barrington.

  In that minute, she saw the black Bentley drive up to the curb and pick up Mr. Barrington, his secretary, Mildred Van Hess at the wheel.

  Ooh, what was this? Why was Mildred driving Mr. Barrington’s car?

  Sophia didn’t want to intrude. What if there was something more going on here than an employee-employer relationship?

  Mike returned a few moments later as Sophia watched the Bentley drive away, pondering Mr. Barrington’s relationship with his assistant. Was love in the air for those two? Both Mildred and Mr. Barrington had lost their spouses last year.

  Her heartstrings tugged.

  Mike passed the helmet to Sophia and swung aboard the motorcycle while she slipped the helmet on and fastened the chin strap.

  “What now?” she asked, sounding a little breathless.

  “Climb on behind me.”

  Sophia looked down at the hem of her narrow skirt and back at Mike. “Yeah, right.”

  “Hike it up,” he said.

  Sucking in her breath, she pulled the skirt up her thighs. His gaze traveled the length of her legs, and his eyes lit up.

  “Stop looking at me,” Sophia huffed, grateful that the darkened visor of the helmet hid her blush.

  He laughed. “Get on, Miss Prim.”

  She swung a leg over the smooth warm leather. It felt like butter against her bare thighs. She wrapped her arms around Mike’s waist but kept her hands clasped loosely in front of him.

  He put the Harley in gear, and the motorcycle shot forward.

  Sophia squealed and tightened her grip, clinging to him like a burr to a cotton sock. He laughed again. Leaning up close enough to growl in his ear, she said, “You did that on purpose.”

  Mike shrugged and laughed again. “Hang on.” He let out the throttle. They weaved through late afternoon traffic, the asphalt flying away beneath the tires. Sophia had never ridden on a motorcycle before, and it terrified her, but in a thrilling way.

  Mike zigzagged through the cars. Her heart leaped into her throat and lodged there, but despite her fear, she felt something else. A feeling that took her by surprise. She felt exhilarated, liberated, free.

  The palm trees and telephone poles flashed by on the arid roadside. The wind rushed over her skin, raising goosebumps of pleasure. The pulsing engine beneath her legs felt like a living thing, sending heat throbbing through her bottom and up her spine.

  Her hands, laced together in front of Mike, could feel every muscle of his washboard-tight abdomen.

  For the next twenty minutes, Sophia did nothing but feel. She didn’t think or rationalize. She let her emotions flow in a jumble, slipping over her, around her, through her. At last, she understood the appeal of a Harley. They were sexy machines, fast and strong, but plush and roomy, built for taking off, cruising the highway, leaving your troubles behind. The motorcycle stirred the untamed wildness she hadn’t known was inside her.

  Or maybe it wasn’t the motorcycle at all, but Mike himself that stirred her longings.

  That thought rocked her world.

  Mike shifted in his seat and prayed that Sophia wouldn’t accidentally let her hands slip downward.

  If she did, she’d realize just how much he wanted her.

  Her bare thighs pressed hard on either side of his legs, and every time he turned his head left or right, the sight of them bewitched him. Slender, firm, tanned.

  And those shoes!

  Crimson three-inch heels.

  Yikes!

  Her breasts, resting against the back of his chest, distracted him as much as those delicious legs. Her blouse was soft and silky, making it feel as if there wasn’t much between Sophia’s bare skin and him.

  Maybe disabling her car and offering her a ride hadn’t been such a bright idea after all.

  He hadn’t expected to feel so out of control by a little physical contact.

  “Which way?” Mike asked at the intersection. He let the engine idle at the red light, his feet planted firmly on the ground to balance them.

  He should have programmed her address into his GPS, but he’d been so focused on her he’d forgotten to do it.

  This part of Rascal was older and more rundown.Mike rarely ventured out this way.

  Many of the storefronts lay vacant. Graffiti defaced bus benches and the sides of buildings. Litter lined the gutters, and glass beer bottles nestled against overflowing trash cans. Clumps of young men in tank tops and tattoos stood on the street corner, eyeing the Harley and Sophia covetously. An uneasy feeling settled over him. Sophia lived in this neighborhood?

  “Take a right,” Sophia directed. “Go six blocks and make another right. You’ll come to Santa Teresa Drive. Take a left at the second stop sign. That’s Red Rock Circle. It dead-ends at my driveway.”

  He followed her directions, cruising down the narrow streets. The smell of suppers being prepared filled the air. He caught whiffs of chili powder, cumin, garlic, and oregano. Most of the residences were small and old, with peeling paint jobs and untended lawns.

  At one house on Santa Teresa Drive, a group of children in dirty T-shirts played on the sidewalk while an elderly woman with a worn expression sat motionless in a rocking chair, keeping watch from the wide screened-in porch.

  Sophia waved in greeting.

  Wary at first because he supposed they didn’t recognize her on the back of the Harley, the children hesitated before raising their hands in response.

  “Senorita Sophia,” they called after her. “Where did you get the motorcycle?”

  “It belongs to my friend, Mike,” she called back.

  My friend.

  It felt good to hear her say that. Except Mike wanted to be much more than Sophia’s friend.

  The house where he stopped on Red Rock Circle wasn’t in any better condition than the rest, except here, a flower garden flourished. Mike wasn’t good at naming flowers, but they were pretty blooms in many shades and hues. Their fragrant aroma welcomed him like a hug.

  A large white cat lay curled beneath a birdbath under an olive tree, and this was where Sophia ran the minute Mike shut off the engine.

  “Shu-Shu,” she called, peeling off the helmet and letting it slide to the ground before scooping the cat in
to her arms.

  Watching her cuddle the animal to her cheek caused something warm and slippery to break away in Mike’s chest.

  Instantly, Sophia’s persona shifted. She was no longer the working professional, assistant to a vice president of Barrington Oil and Gas. Gone was the efficient administrator he knew, and in her place stood a joyful young woman.

  Mike swallowed. Hard. What was happening? Sophia should fall for him. Not the other way around.

  She smiled softly. “Thank you for the ride home, Mike. It was sweet of you.”

  Sweet? He was taking advantage of her. “It was nothing.”

  “I believe I owe you dinner.” She raised her head and sniffed the air. “And unless I miss my guess, Mom’s made her fabulous arroz con polo.”

  “I should go,” he said, feeling off balance.

  “I know she’s got strawberry cheesecake for dessert,” Sophia tempted. “It’s my favorite, and she made it for my birthday. I had a light lunch to save my calories for the cheesecake.”

  As if she had anything to worry about. Mike trailed his gaze over her toned slender body.

  “I’m sure your mother wasn’t expecting company for supper.”

  Sophia waved her hand. “She always makes too much food. Come, come.” Still holding Shu-Shu, she motioned him up the front stoop.

  “Mother,” she called, pushing open the screen door into the house that was almost as warm inside as it was out. All the windows were open, and many floor fans hummed noisily. Was their air-conditioner broken?

  “In the kitchen, honey. You’re late.”

  “I know.” Sophia kicked off her high heels in the foyer.

  The living room was small and overstuffed with cheap knickknacks but spotlessly clean. The furniture was old and faded by the sun streaming in through the windows. Guilt twisted Mike’s gut. He had no idea Sophia came from such humble surroundings. Was that why she wanted to marry wealth?

  He made a mental note to give her a raise. A substantial one. She deserved one, and he’d been remiss in not already bumping up her pay.

  Sophia led the way to the kitchen. Feeling out of place, Mike followed.