Great smile, broadening as he drew closer…and oh, a dimple in one cheek!
Step, step, step: Sexy, confident, gorgeous.
How incredibly embarrassing that he could be coming over to tell her he’d seen London and France when she’d done her front-seat striptease. Though, not as bad as it would be if he told her he’d seen the Netherlands.
She told herself to cool it. Maybe he just wanted to say hi. Or he could be coming over to tell her he’d heard the roughness of her car’s engine. Given the way he was dressed, and that he’d come out of a building that was obviously some kind of repair shop, she’d pegged him for a mechanic.
Maybe he needed to know the time. Or to tell her the whole place had been evacuated for a fire drill.
Say anything except I know you’re not wearing any panties.
Not only because it would be embarrassing if he confirmed he’d seen her, but because it was such a sleazy, slimy come-on. And she didn’t want to think this stranger—this very sexy man—had a sleazy bone in his body. That would probably break her long-single, brittle heart completely. Guys this handsome simply shouldn’t be allowed to be scumbags.
Reaching her, the man studied her from behind his sunglasses, which were necessitated by the bright sunshine that painted the tips of his light brown hair gold. She couldn’t help wondering what color his eyes were. Warm chocolate? Jade green? Something dazzling, she imagined. Because only a perfect set of eyes belonged in that face, with its high cheekbones, strong jutting jaw and broad, sensual mouth.
Masculine. That was the only word to describe him.
“Afternoon,” he said pleasantly, as if they’d just been introduced at a social event, as if he wasn’t standing there, thinking about her being pantyless.
Maybe he’s not.
Yeah. Right.
“Hello,” she mumbled.
He pushed the sunglasses up onto the top of his head with the tip of his finger. Oh, my. Not brown, not gold…something in-between. Like fine, clear amber. Absolutely beautiful.
“Wow,” she whispered.
He heard. Because now those eyes were twinkling. Definitely twinkling. She’d heard the expression, but always figured it for an exaggeration. It wasn’t. This guy had you-can-trust-me-I’m-adorable written on his very eyeballs.
“You look a little lost,” he said, that deep voice friendly, matching the twinkle and his small smile.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I can help. I know my way around.”
A quick glance at the stitching on his chest revealed the name of a popular auto-repair chain: Midas. They must make a lot of house calls to the academy if he was so familiar with it.
Funny that he worked for a company with a name that suited him so well, given those gold highlights in his hair. She only wondered if his big, powerful hands had the golden touch. And what lucky woman was on the receiving end of it.
One thing was sure, he was nothing like the men she usually associated with. There wasn’t a professor-ish feature on him. Probably in his early-to-mid-thirties, he was all man, not boyish, despite the twinkle and the dimples. He was rugged, not a smoothly put-together package like a slick high-rise, but a naturally spectacular formation like…the Grand Canyon.
Okay, that was a little overdone, but still, the guy was robbing her of coherent thought. She could only look at him for another long moment, pretending to consider his offer.
His cheeks were slightly stubbled, a faint smear of grease visible beside his strong nose. His skin was bronzed, his hands calloused, his muscles, she would bet, coming from hard work, not from a fitness club. And the mouth. Oh, did the man have a mouth—all soft, sensuous, smiling lips.
A shiver moved throughout her entire body, so delicate she almost didn’t notice. It took her a second to realize that shiver had been a pure, feminine response to him: attraction. Major attraction. She was no longer calculating how good-looking he was, her gears had shifted smoothly from assess to covet.
Stop it. It had been far too long since she’d been in a relationship if a guy who’d peeping-Tom’d her when she’d pulled off her underwear was giving her the shivers.
He didn’t peeping-Tom you…you Sharon Stone’d him!
She tried to pull her thoughts together, determined not to give him an opening to make a sleazy remark. “I’m okay, thanks.”
“Well, you might not need any help, but I gotta say, you’re really tempting fate.”
Curious about why, but afraid of how he’d answer, she instead replied, “Thanks for your concern, but I’m not worried.”
“Rule-breaker, huh?”
“No.”
“Just like to live dangerously?”
Oh, hell. That cemented it, reminding her of why he’d come over here. He’d definitely seen her strip. “Not in the least.”
“Well, I’ll admit you don’t look the type.”
Her spine stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Gesturing toward her hair, then her clothes, he said, “I mean, you look more like a schoolteacher than a rebel.”
That was a good thing. “That’s the plan,” she mumbled.
“You’re not really a teacher, are you?” he asked.
“Not yet.” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, damn it.”
“You’re late.”
“How did you ever guess?” she asked, her tone dry.
There went the twinkle. And the dimple. And a broad, white grin. “’Cause you sped in here like demons were on your tail.”
At least he hadn’t said, Demons were on your naked tail.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I have an interview. It’s fifty minutes from now and they said to check in an hour early.”
He waved a hand, unconcerned. “They tell everyone that. But the place is nearly deserted. It won’t take you ten minutes to get the visitor’s pass, I promise. Don’t worry about it.”
“Still, I don’t want to risk it, so if you’ll excuse me…”
“So you’re worried about making a bad impression?”
Blowing out an impatient breath as he stopped her from turning away with just that amused tone in his voice, she admitted, “Yes, okay? Yes, I am.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not doing very well so far.” He pointed to a nearby building. “Personnel offices have a bird’s-eye view of this parking
