by Lori Foster
As if in slow motion, her shoulders went back, her gaze became direct and her eyes narrowed.
Bad time for him to notice that the outer corners of her eyes slightly turned up, that her lashes were thicker there, giving her an erotic expression even in anger.
Cat eyes, that was what she had. Very blue cat eyes.
“So far,” she said, “absolutely everything with you is inappropriate, from our initial meeting where you behaved horribly, to our discussion of your friend Gina, to this cozy little picnic.”
“It is cozy, isn’t it?” A hapless bee got too close to her, and she nearly punched it away.
The lady had a fiery temper that for unaccountable reasons tweaked his interest.
Good thing the bee was quicker than her swing. He enjoyed getting a rise out of her, maybe because then he saw the real her. “You might as well know, if I’m your guy, it’ll be picnics all the way.” And he was pretty sure, given her boss’s preference, that he was her guy.
“Therman chose you, yes. But when I give him my report—”
It was Brodie’s turn to straighten. “Your report?”
Smug, she reached out and chose a pickle. “Once the job is complete he’ll want an evaluation before he makes a decision on the retainer.”
Well, hell. “You’re evaluating me?” Again? Still?
“You do like to stress words, almost like reports and evaluations spook you.” Her smile was deliberately mean, as was her casually spoken “I wonder why.”
He felt like snatching that pickle right out of her hand. “And to think I shared my mother’s chicken salad with you.”
Red surprised him by snickering. At his affronted expression, she covered her mouth with a napkin, but the laughter came through, and finally, bending, with both hands over her face, she gave in to honest, loud, natural guffaws.
Brodie couldn’t keep his own lips from twitching. Damn, she was pretty when she laughed. Looser. Softer.
Fucking sexier.
“What?” he asked, just to keep her going.
Wrapping an arm around her middle, that napkin still crushed in her hand, gasping breaths, she managed to say, “Your face!”
“Most ladies like my face.” Shame she didn’t like it more. He could easily imagine wrapping up this trip with a good hard ride—in bed. His imagination took off without his mind’s permission, envisioning those heavy breasts bare, her gorgeous hair loose, her parted thighs cradling—
“Even when you’re dumbstruck?” Gingerly she wiped her eyes, still grinning hugely.
“Yeah, even then.” Damn it, he was half-hard. If she noticed, she’d be thinking he didn’t have any control at all when control hadn’t been a problem since his teenage years.
Propping his elbows on the table, arms folded, he studied her. Humor added a whole new dimension to her demeanor. A more approachable dimension.
It dawned on him that other women didn’t leave him dumbstruck. Huh.
They didn’t fascinate him, either, but Red did, in a dozen different ways.
Reaching beneath the table, he adjusted himself. Luckily she was still patting her eyes, trying to remove the tears of hilarity without smudging her makeup. “So what will you put in that report?” Before she could answer, he added, “It better include my generous nature, and how I can make you laugh.”
“Oh, definitely,” she teased. “In fact, if we remove yesterday morning from the equation, I’d say it’d almost all be accolades.”
“Almost all?”
She pointed the pickle spear at him. “You did ply me with coffee and water just to deny me a bathroom break.”
She didn’t sound at all irate over it.
Damn, but he couldn’t stop marveling over her, and how ridiculous was that?
Brodie made a presentation of crossing his heart. “My motives were just to get you to bend a little. I mean, how prissy can a woman be when she has to pee?”
Red choked, then glared.
“Seriously?” Brodie did his best to hide his amusement. No pretty blushes for Red. No, instead her face turned blotchy and it cracked him up.
Perversely, it made him want to tease her even more.
“The mention of pee has you blushing?”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Me?” God, it was fun, riling her. Fun, and far too easy. “You’re a mature woman, for crying out loud. Sedate, sure, but you have an important job, and no one would accuse you of lacking confidence.”
“Am I supposed to thank you for pointing out the obvious?”
“Why not? They were compliments.” One minute she was laughing almost hysterically, and now she was miffed again. “How old are you anyway?”
“Thirty,” she growled as she came to her feet and began gathering up her garbage with hard, jerking movements. “Not that age matters when you’re being deliberately crude and trying to—” The tongue-lashing died a sudden death as her gaze went past him to the parking area. Surprise replaced umbrage. “Someone’s looking at your car.”
Brodie jerked around and sure enough, two men were hovering near Matilda, one even crouching down at the back, out of sight. “Stay here with Howler.” Already on his feet, he headed for the lot. All his focus was on the men, two of them, dressed in dark T-shirts and jeans, sunglasses hiding their eyes, GQ haircuts.
His instincts screamed and he strode faster, harder. Once he was close enough, he called out, “Can I help you?” which was the universal “nice” way of asking, What the fuck are you up to?
The upright man grinned. “Sweet ride. ’05?”
“Yeah.” Brodie circled the car until he stood over the bastard crouched by the back fender. Saying nothing, he stared down at him until the man warily regained his feet.
Both of them were big, but not as big as him. They were slick, too, but not like Jack, who Brodie likened to a polished rock. No, these dipshits had a veneer of shine over cheap plastic.
Leaning against the back of the car, Brodie crossed his arms and eyed both men. They looked to be in their early thirties, just a little younger than him. He’d run across plenty of men like them, but he’d be willing to bet they hadn’t encountered another like him.
Because he’d gladly kick both their asses if they were up to anything shady. And hey, he already sensed that they were.
“Rather than fidget around like virgins at prom, why don’t you bozos tell me what the fuck you want and what you were doing to my car?”
“Doing?” Cautious now, they glanced at each other.
In an almost choreographed move, they pushed up their sunglasses.
The one who’d been behind the car tried a laugh as he held out his hands. “I wasn’t doing anything, dude. Just checking her out.”
“Uh-huh. And your dipshit friend wasn’t a lookout, either?”
The friend bunched up. “What’s your problem, man?”
Do it, Brodie silently urged, staring the man in the eyes. Make a fucking move. “Other than having to deal with idiots, you mean?”
Hands bunched, shoulders tensed, the two stepped forward together.
Anticipation sizzled along his skin and Brodie gave up his relaxed pose on the car. His smile taunted. And—
“Are you ready to go?” Breathless, her tone ludicrously jovial, Red joined them as if there wasn’t a conflict going down. She struggled with the dog’s leash wrapped firmly around one hand while hauling his cooler in the other. She had trouble staying on her feet as Howler did his best demon-dog impression, quietly enraged, straining at his harness, his loose lips pulled back to show sharp teeth, muscles in his shoulders rolling.
Red must’ve packed up at Mach speed.
Before she lost her footing, he relieved her of the dog’s leash, shortening it in his fist so Howler couldn’t get too close to the men.
He said to her,
“Wait for me in the car.”
Though her smile didn’t slip, her tone grew a little more strident. “No, I don’t think so.” She plopped down the cooler and, despite his narrow-eyed warning, came to stand beside him.
Like they were a fucking team?
Brodie stared at her, but then so did the other men.
Wasn’t every day you met a lady like Mary Daniels.
Oozing innocence, she smiled. “The car will be stunning after she’s painted, but even wearing primer, she’s beautiful. Do you like Mustangs?”
The men appeared just as boggled as Brodie. The lookout dumbly nodded.
“You were admiring her, right?” Like a freaking caress, she ran a hand along the car. “I’m not much of a car aficionado. Is there something in particular about her rear that you liked?”
Brodie choked.
Red peered down at the car, her nose scrunched. “All I see is a fender and a muffler.” She stroked those teasing fingers along the trunk lock—and the men all tracked the progress as if they, too, could feel it.
“Mary—” he started.
“Does she have something special going on back here?”
The two jerks looked at Brodie as if unsure whether to laugh or run.
“Do you prefer the rear?”
He almost groaned.
“She has some excellent curves up front as well.”
Predictably, the goons dropped their gazes to her magnificent chest.
Brodie wanted to annihilate them both.
“Do you gentlemen have a preference?”
“Don’t answer that,” Brodie growled at them, and then to her, he said, “Damn it, Red—”
Expression angelic, she smiled up at him. “I can go on all day, or we can get in the car and leave.” She patted Howler. “There’s no reason for you to upset your dog.”
Good God, she’d done it on purpose, talking sexually shaded nonsense just to defuse the situation. Hard for me to kick ass when all three of us are now thinking about women’s behinds.
She folded her hands in front of her, that contented smile not budging.
Scowling, Brodie warned her, “We’ll discuss this later.” He turned to the mute men. “This is your one and only warning. Don’t touch my car.”
They wisely took advantage of Mary’s interference and backed away until they reached a black SUV.
“Clichéd fucks,” he muttered.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Hired thugs should at least try to not look like thugs, right?” After Brodie watched the car drive away, he went to his knees to study the fender, the undercarriage, the tailpipe. He felt around the license plate and the back tires. “Nothing.”
“Did you expect a bug? A booby trap?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Because you believe them to be thugs?”
“You don’t?” he challenged.
“Well, if I’d had doubts, Howler convinced me.” She hugged the dog’s neck. “He paid no mind to anyone else, but with those two, I do believe he wanted to draw blood.”
“He’d have mangled them.” Brodie straightened, wondering what he’d missed.
Stepping back to do her own survey of the car, Red touched her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. The only thing of interest back here is your license plate. If they have the right connections, they could track you down with your license number, right?”
Brodie stared at her. “You’re a genius.”
“Smart,” she agreed. “But not that smart. If I was, I’d know why they wanted to identify you.”
The urge to swing her up, maybe even kiss her, must have shown on his face because she turned quickly for the passenger door. “We should be on our way. We don’t want to be late.”
Brodie went along with that plan, getting Howler buckled in and storing his cooler. But once on the road, he decided it was past time he knew what Mustang Transport was getting into.
“You know this has to be related to whatever we’re picking up.”
While texting a message, Red nodded. “Possibly, though it’s doubtful they know what it is.”
“So what are we fetching?” he pressed.
“I can’t tell you that.” She finished her message and tucked away the phone.
He did not like mysteries. Well, other than Red. He wouldn’t mind putting together that particular puzzle. “At least tell me if it’s legal.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Of course it’s legal. Therman Ritter is an upstanding, honest man—and he regards loyalty very highly. He’ll be pleased to know you continued on despite your nervousness about a threat.”
Nervousness? Of all the idiotic... “Who’s nervous?” Insult hung heavy in his tone. “I’m not nervous.”
She gave him a Yeah, right look and then continued, “Personally, I’m not worried, and I just told Therman as much.” She relaxed in the seat. “There are a lot of rivals for unique collection items.”
Unique collection items. Like severed heads? He had to wonder.
“At times it can get ugly. We face the occasional confrontation and, yes, attempted theft. It’s why Therman doesn’t have his purchased items mailed.”
“Too risky?”
“Mail can be intercepted.” She half turned in the seat to better face him, one leg slightly drawn up. “What would you have done if I hadn’t interrupted?”
“Gotten some answers.” He still wanted them, damn it. He felt primed for violence.
The only good substitute was hot, hard sex, and while he felt the interest surging between them, Red was doing her best to ignore it. Given they could really use the income from future jobs with her well-to-do employer, he should try to let it go, too.
Easier said than done.
She tipped her head at his statement. “Just like that?”
He didn’t have any illusions about his ability. “Intimidation goes a long way. Neither of those clowns wanted a fight, so odds are they’d have spilled their guts quick enough.” He shot her a look. “If you hadn’t ruined it.”
Her expression sharpened. “Let’s cover a few things now that I might have been remiss in mentioning at the onset.”
Brodie hated that she was back in prim and proper mode. “Yeah, let’s.”
“First, I’ll remind you that I don’t work for you. We each work for Therman Ritter and the hierarchy places me above you, not beneath.”
Oh, the things he could say. One look at her pinched face and he wisely decided to play mum. Didn’t stop the images in his brain, but at least he didn’t say something that’d get him maimed.
She appeared suspicious over his control. “Also,” she continued with a bite, “Therman does not condone violence if there is any other alternative.”
“I was using intimidation, not violence.” Though violence could have easily followed. Hell, given how he felt now, he wished it had.
She nodded once. “Since I’m not familiar with your tactics, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. In the future—if there is a future—I’ll try to trust your judgment...as long as you understand that violence is a last resort.”
“Got it.” Determined that there would be a future, he promised, “No cracking heads if it’s not absolutely necessary.”
Frown stern, she said, “It would rarely, very rarely, be necessary.”
Did she have to beat it into the ground? Did she think he ran around looking for excuses to swing his fists? He was a peaceful man. A nice man, damn it. “I said I’ve got it. Move on already.”
“Fine,” she snapped right back, then sucked in a breath. And another. Calmer now, she said, “My name is Mary. I thought you’d completely forgotten it, but you did say it when those men were there.”
“Respect.”
Her brows shot up. “What?”
“I
would never disrespect you in front of goons by using a nickname.” Brodie popped his neck to the side, disgusted to find he was now tense. Getting lectured by Red had a very muscle-tightening effect on him.
It left him feeling anything but nice.
She aggressively angled her body back toward him again. “How about you don’t disrespect me at all, ever?”
Was that what she thought? Was she so damned strict, she couldn’t indulge in conversation with the hired help?
Or had he inadvertently hurt her feelings?
That idea bothered him a lot. In many ways, he could tell that Mary was different from other women he’d known.
Hell, from everyone he’d known.
He had the suspicion that she used her formality as a barrier against the rest of the world.
But why? That was what he wanted to know.
CHAPTER FOUR
BRODIE KNEW HE should let it go. Accept the job, the money and the prestige that the association would bring to Mustang Transport. Depending on the frequency of the jobs, they could make a lot of improvements to the office. Jack could fix up his house, and Brodie could sock some money away in the bank. Lend some financial help to his mom and Charlotte.
Don’t rock the boat, he told himself, but it was advice he couldn’t take. Something about Mary’s prickly defenses made it impossible.
Somber now, he asked softly, “Have I been that bad?”
“What?” Genuinely surprised, she shook her head. “No, of course not. But nicknames are too—”
“Familiar?” Sure, he might have started out teasing in a not exactly respectful way, but that was when she had condemnation written all over her face. It felt different now. Friendlier. “Why can’t we be? Familiar, I mean. If we’re going to be working together—”
The way her eyes widened in alarm kept him from finishing the thought.
She looked away, her gaze aimed out the passenger window. She breathed faster and she locked her hands together in her lap.
Knowing he’d hit a nerve, Brodie debated on how to proceed. She almost seemed guarded, making him wonder if he scared her somehow.