A very unfeminine snort issued from the area of his feet.
If I come out to talk to you, Ill have to stop working on this car. And that will just put the next car behind, and consequently yours. The voice, otherwise sweet in tone, dripped with sarcasm. And Im guessing youre the type whos in an all-fired hurry to get out of here, so no, I wont be coming out until Im done. Leave your keys on the bench, fill out a form, and come back in three hours, or have your car towed back to the north side.
Jeremy had said that towing wasnt an option. This was unacceptable.
Three hours? Ford was indignant. That wont work at all. Ill pay extra to have it bumped up the line, but I expect this car to be finished as soon as possible.
His tone was the one he used on the battlefield of the boardroomthe one that always, always got him the desired results. Instead?
The feet, which had been tapping in time to the music, stilled. A breath of honeyed vanilla hit his nose seconds before the woman rolled out from beneath the Contour.
He had a brief impression of dark hair and incredibly blue eyes, and then the navy jumpsuitclad creature was on her feet, not just glaring at him, but actually poking her finger into his chest.
He knew that he wasnt going to win any feminist awards, but he was a bit taken aback that the mechanic was a womanhed assumed that the voice belonged to a receptionist or assistant of some sort. Not that he thought women couldnt do any job they wantedhe just hadnt expected it.
Now just a minute He wasnt going to tolerate this kind of treatment from a service provider, not even if she was a woman. No way, no how.
He didnt get a chance to say so.
As soon as possible will be as soon as I finish this car, and the one after that. Those eyes shot out licks of cerulean flames that threatened to incinerate him. Around here we do whats fair, and whats fair is for you to wait your turn.
Im not sure you understand how much money Im willing to pay Ford tried to speak, and the damn woman poked him in the chest again.
What kind of person bends the rules for money? She sniffed, tossed back a long dark braid, and Ford again caught that intriguing whiff of vanilla. The scent was so out of place, layered over the engine grease, it made Ford think of cupcakes.
An odd thought for him overall, since he rarely indulged in dessert.
So youre saying theres nothing I can do to speed this process along? Ford shook aside thoughts of sweet baked goods and grasped his irritation. He found it especially annoying that he couldnt really see her, this strange creature who had the gall to yell at himcouldnt see the person in the shapeless coveralls or the skin beneath the thick layer of engine grease. She looked like shed been grubbing around in a coal mine.
The woman gave him a sweet smile, but Ford noted that her eyesthe only part of her that was clearly visiblewere still glittering as she did.
Like I said. She pointed at the desk. Youve already put me behind. So for the love of God, if you want your damn car fixed, go put your keys over on that bench and fill out the form.
I cant believe Im stuck here, Ford muttered as he turned to do as the woman said, and he heard a snort of laughter that made him turn back to her.
Actually, youll be stuck at the café down the street. Now her expression was mocking. She clearly didnt think much more of him than he did of her. I dont have a waiting room.
With the smooth movement of someone who had much practice, the strange person lowered herself back down to the rolling thingwhat was it called?and again disappeared beneath the Contour.
Fords mind quickly sorted through words and phrases, searching for a witty comeback that would put this impudent woman in her place.
He had nothing. Nothing that would convey the deference he was used to receiving to this grease-covered imp who clearly didnt care.
Scowling, he stalked over to the workbench and all but threw his keys down on the unfinished wooden surface. He took up the stubby-nosed pencil and the order form, then shook his head and instead pulled out a business card, which had all of his relevant information. He clipped it to the form.
Marchande Motors
Proprietor, Beth Marchande
So she was not just the mechanicshe owned the whole garage. Ford didnt quite know what to do with that informationthe woman didnt fit into any of the preconceived slots he had to classify the female of the species. And he needed to classifyto classify everything.
What was life without order?
It seemed that this strange, vanilla-scented woman would force him to take a taste and find out.
CHAPTER TWO
BETH DIDNT HURRY the work that needed to be done on the Contour, or on the massive old truck that came after it. When she hurried she made mistakes, and mistakes hurt the reputation of her business.
One customer lost meant money lost, and she and her sisters and Mamesie didnt have a penny to spare. They all hustled to keep them in their family home, and sometimes that meant servicing the cars of assholes when shed rather tell them to take a hike.
It was late afternoon when she finally scrubbed the grease off her face and arms, then grabbed the keys that the fancy man had tossed onto her workbenchtossed with more than a bit of temper, which made her lips curl up into a grin.
She was laid-back by nature, so her sisters always said, but when someone threatened her notions of right and wrong, she did tend to lose her grip on control. And even the fact that the offender was jaw-droppingly gorgeous didnt ease the weight of his offenses, at least not in her eyes.
Of course. Lizzie huffed out a breath when she noted the Porsche logo on the key chain. The breath turned to a whistle when she trotted around the corner and saw the sleek silver Turbo parked on the side of the quiet, tree-lined road.
The fancy man was not only sexy...he was loaded. Shed just known iteverything about him had screamed north side. What the hell was he doing out here in the South End?
Actually, what was he doing with a ten-year-old Porsche? She was pretty sure he could afford a new one. Still, a Turbo was a Turbo, and she couldnt quite suppress the thrill when she opened the car door. She was halfway in when she realized that while shed cleaned off her skin, her coveralls were still soaked with grease. And shed just bet that Mr. Tight Ass would have something to say if she dirtied up his buttery leather seats.
Shucking her dirty coveralls, she rolled them into a ball and tossed them onto the passengers seat. Clad in the ribbed white tank top and bright pink yoga shorts that she wore beneath, she finally slid behind the wheel.
She couldnt quite hold back the moan as she ran her hands over the steering wheel. Her joy at being behind the wheel of something like this was almost sexual, it felt so damn good.
She grinned as she briefly considered giving herself a handsy little ride on the seat, picturing the mans face if she told him about it after.
Tempting, but not professional. So instead she eased the vehicle forward, wincing as she heard the death rattle.
Tempting, but not professional. So instead she eased the vehicle forward, wincing as she heard the death rattle.
Transmission. She didnt have to lookshe was a damn good mechanic, and shed heard that sound before. But she wanted to give the Turbo a full diagnosis, so after pulling it into the garage, she popped the hood, sighing only a little at the whisper-soft swish of the automated lift.
Without bothering to put her coveralls back on, she started to poke at the guts of the beautiful machine.
She was more than a little disgusted with what she saw.
The main problem was, as shed known, the transmission. The filtration system was clogged, the seals were hardened and the fluid had been neglected. The Turbo was going to need an entirely new part.
Wear and tear was part of owning a car. But this combined with the sludge that passed for oil, the corrosion in the cooling system, the clogged fuel injectors...
Shed bet that the man...what was his name? She grabbed for the form, leaving fresh smudges on the white paper.
Ford Lassiter. Of course. Fancy name for a fancy man. And all those fancy college degrees listed after his name. Anyway, shed bet that Ford Lassiter had only serviced his car a dozen or so times in the ten years hed had it, assuming he was the original owner, and she assumed he was.
Irresponsible.
Is it fixed?
Beth turned and found the man in question standing in the entrance of her garage, silhouetted by the late-afternoon sun. He was tall, probably a good eight or so inches taller than her own five feet six. His hair was the tawny kind of color that made her think of a lion, and it offset the surprising chocolate brown of his piercing eyes.
He was lean, but his body looked hard, like he did more with it than just hit a gym. The suit hed been wearing earlier was well cut and clearly expensive and showed off that body quite nicely.
In the hours since shed sent him away, hed removed the suit jacket, loosened the tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his white shirt. And in sharp contrast to the sleekness of the outfit, he now had an open can of Coke in his hand. Beth highly preferred this look. In fact, as she met his stare and leaned back against the sleek door of the Turbo, she found herself wanting to purr a bit as she took in the view.
Not that he was her type. At all.
It is most certainly not fixed. Even through her annoyance, she felt a little quiver in her belly when she looked at himreally looked at him. Shed have to have been dead not to.
What do you mean, its not fixed? That handsome face schooled itself into a disapproving frown, and Beth arched an eyebrow.
Sexy or not, hed best keep some respect in his tone when she broke the news to him.
Whens the last time you had a maintenance check done on this car? Pushing off from where she lounged, she beckoned for Ford to come look under the hood with her. He hesitated, and she didnt miss the way those dark eyes meandered down her body, which was far more exposed than it had been earlier in the coveralls.
Interesting. Beth had always had a knack for reading people, probably since she preferred to hang back and study them rather than dive right in. That knack was telling her that Ford Lassiter was a man who kept everything in his world under rigid control.
She would have bet moneyif shed had anythat he wasnt that deliberate in checking out a woman unless some part of him wanted the woman to know.
He hadnt moved but was instead regarding her intently.
Well, well, well. The rich man wanted to go slumming, did he? Smirking, Beth crooked her finger again and deliberately swayed her hips as she bent over the open hood.
That leonine power, that tightly coiled controlhe would be fun to tease. And, she noted when he finally deigned to saunter over, not bothering at all to bank the combination of curiosity and attraction in his eyes, she couldnt deny that little click that she felt in her gut when their eyes met.
Chemistry. Couldnt make it, couldnt fake it. It was either present with another person or it wasnt...and it seemed that she and Mr. Ford Lassiter had it on the most elemental of levels.
Beside her, he leaned a hip against the Turbo and regarded her with an amused smirk on his own face. Oh, yes, he felt it, too...and unless she missed her guess, he was entertained by the notion of being attracted to a woman like her.
Beth had made it a point to live her life without worrying about what others thought of her, but it still stung when someone, even a stranger, looked at her like she was one of those wild Marchande girls from the wrong side of town. Well, fuck that. She was going to make him want her so badly his head would spin...and then shed send him packing.
Cant remember? Even with all those fancy letters after your name? She tilted her head, looked up at him, waited while he thought back to her question.
I dont recall. He didnt even have the decency to look ashamed about it, though she noted that his spine stiffened a bit in defense. Im a busy man.
Seems to me that a busy man like you would have people who could take care of little details like car maintenance for him. Though Beths lips curved in a smile, inside she went from irritation to anger. This fancy machine here? Most people in this neighborhood have to work for five years to earn that kind of money.
She wouldnt focus on what she and her sisters could docould pay offwith that kind of cash. Replace the furnace that threatened to quit every winter. Patch the place in the roof that let the rain in. Some of those people might think that youd want to take care of something like that. Take some responsibility.
Youre right. There, finally, was evidence that he was humanthe tiniest flicker of guilt. It was enough to melt her anger away.
Likely he hadnt ever thought about how long other people would have to work to pay for one of his toys...and why would he treat it as anything special when he probably had a garage full of others at home?
Can I get that in writing? I think its probably not something you say very often. Beth arched an eyebrow. Ford blinked at her, seemingly stunned, before bursting into laughter.
It was a rich laugh, not the carefully controlled chuckle she would have expected from him, and it cut her off at the knees. To her, nothing was sexier than a man who could laugh at himself.
Dont get used to it. It probably wont happen again. As if he realized that hed let his control slip, Fords grin quickly morphed back into stern lines. In all seriousness. Now that weve established I dont take proper care of it, what is wrong with it? Do you not have a part that I need?
Beth couldnt hold back the snort of sarcasm that slipped from her throat. Well, thats a start, but no, I dont typically carry parts for cars like these. Not much call for them around here.
Doing her best not to roll her eyesthey were clearly from such different worldsshe rubbed her hand over her cheek. The return of his smirk told her shed likely left a smear of engine grease behind on her clean skin, but she didnt care. That was her. Take it or leave it.
Your transmission is shot. That needs to be replaced. I can call in a favor and have the part couriered in for the morning, since I figure youre probably willing to pay the rush fee. But replacing it is going to be a full-day job. She held up her hand as he opened his mouth, looking like he was prepared to argue. To her way of thinking, there was nothing to argue about here. But if you stay consistent with the way you treat this car, then I would suggest you let me fix everything else thats wrong with it while youve already got it in the shop. Your fuel and cooling systems need work, youve got some corrosion...and you need a basic damn oil change.