Fender Bender Blues (9 page)

“Give me the keys,” Craig demanded, hand out. Her expression obstinate, she shook her head. He repeated, “Give me the keys.”

He assumed she was being stubborn to piss him off. Strange, but this time he remained calm instead of firing back.

He kept his hand out, looked straight into her eyes and said what he’d been dying to tell her since he’d first laid eyes on her in the bar: “Don’t be an idiot.” She sputtered, and he added, “You’ve already been in one accident this week, doubt you can afford another.”

Knowledge dawned behind her green orbs before she thrust the keys into his open palm. He was used to winning. It was his job to win. The winner made sales and had the best lot in town. The winner made money and got what he wanted, even if only keys from a drunk brat. He sat back in satisfaction and started the car.

And jumped in his seat when the motor roared to life.

Rach broke out in laughter beside him, the sound of it startling him in ways the roar of the engine hadn’t, and he threw an aggravated glare at her.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he muttered.

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.”

He smiled. “Your dad?”

“All the time,” she grinned back.

He’d never driven a Toronado, and he’d driven many, many vehicles in his lifetime. At six-foot-three he had a hard time seeing over the end of the hood and he wondered how many things she’d run over in it—probably many, given her driving history.

“How are you going to get your car if you take me home?” she asked, busy with buckling her seat belt.

He took in her profile as she stared out the windshield. He’d never met anyone like her. Most women would have made a move on him by now, but Rach wasn’t interested and didn’t mind letting him know it. Maybe he wasn’t her type…
What
is
her type?
And why the hell did he care?

“I’ll get it later, don’t worry about it.” He fought to keep his eyes on the road. Maybe it was all that damn red hair of hers. If he didn’t watch it he’d wreck and this time it would be his fault. In her dad’s car.
Not good.

“So your dad’s a car guy, huh?” he asked. He reached down to fiddle with the radio—
eight track player.
He grinned and flipped it on and “Hotel California” played on low through the speakers. Her dad had great taste in music unlike his daughter who’d squealed and bounced in her chair in the bar when Prince’s “Let’s Go Crazy
”
played on the jukebox.

“‘Spose you got that from the immaculate interior and the shiny wheels,” she chuckled, running her fingers across the plush dash cover. “This has been his baby for as long as I can remember.”

The adoration and love so clear in her voice for her dad made her less bratty—and kinder—than he’d first pegged her for.

“I like a man who takes care of his wheels. Shows character,” Craig approved. Rach’s laugh stole his gaze and he drew in a sharp breath at her smiling face. She was very beautiful when her lips weren’t turned down in a frown.

“You definitely aren’t ever allowed to meet my dad,” she stated, rolling down her window and leaning back against the seat. Out of the corner of his eye, her hair fluttered in the breeze and he hoped she wasn’t going to vomit in the car. “I suppose being a car salesman you have to be a detail freak with your vehicles or you can’t sell them.”

He wasn’t sure if she was complimenting him or trying to insult him again. Whatever the meaning behind her words, her voice rolled over him like syrup.

Why he hadn’t called her a cab and been on his way was a mystery. Instead he was driving her across town to take her home when they’d done nothing but fight all night.
Stupid.

“I suppose you’re right. Tell your dad I’m impressed with his ride. It’s in mint condition,” he said, making another turn. He was used to the turning radius by now—there wasn’t one.

“He’s retired. He washes it three times a week and he polishes the wheels so he can see his reflection in them,” she answered, her voice soft and drowsy now. He considered telling her too much alcohol had that effect on people, but if he tried to scold her she’d only rip his ass.

Craig glanced down at the crumpled bag on the floor and raised his brows. “So does he know about you and Buster Burger?”

She nudged her toe at the bag and avoided his eyes. “I’ll take it in the house when I go in.”

He turned onto her street and a voice inside his head told him,
Too soon!
Rach was already opening the passenger door before he could shut off the engine.

Okay, so she didn’t enjoy his company. She wasn’t alone. He’d discovered early on in the evening that Rachel Bennett was someone he could only endure in moderation.

Craig trotted behind her across the damp grass under the light of the half moon. He hopped up the stone steps of the porch just as she shoved the front door open and flipped the light on inside. He didn’t hesitate to walk in behind her, shutting the door on the dark night.

The smell of apples and cinnamon rushed his senses, reminding him of Christmas and apple pie. He hadn’t pegged her as the baking type. Baking a pie was too domestic and not for a woman who’d enjoyed busting his chops for two hours straight.

He reached down to rub at his sore shin. When his mom baked she hummed. Craig couldn’t imagine Rach humming over an apple pie.

Maybe cussing over an apple pie
. The image made him chuckle.

The woman in question raised her auburn brows in challenge and he knew she was about to insult him or say something infuriating, and in a moment of madness—or what had to be alcohol induced stupidity—Craig crossed the room with no clear thought in his head.

In moments he had his hands in her glorious red curls and he marveled at the silky smoothness of the locks tangled between his fingers. Their eyes met for a second before drifting shut to give in to a need that neither understood yet didn’t stop to question.

Chapter Ten

She was crazy. He was crazy. And God, his lips were amazing. The heady scent of cologne washed over her and his stubble scratched against her cheek as his lips left her mouth to kiss a line down to her neck. A moan escaped her lips at the soft kiss he left below her ear just before kissing a trail along her jaw to capture her mouth against his. His tongue slipped inside and slid against hers in a silky dance that shot goose bumps up her arms and shivers down her spine.

Who knew
, she wondered and gripped his shoulder tight through his jacket.

The ring of a cell phone made Rach jerk her head back and she winced as a few strands of her hair still entwined in his fingers yanked from her scalp. The phone rang again, but he didn’t let go. His eyes, still hooded and stormy with lust, gazed into hers. So many different blues danced in his eyes and she let herself get lost in them. She leaned in again, her eyes drifting shut, but the third ring slammed her back to reality.

He made no move to release her so she cleared her throat and reached down into his jacket pocket. She plucked the phone out. Putting it between their faces, she said, “Phone’s ringing.”

He blinked and took the phone out of her hand. “Yeah, thanks.”

His other hand still rested around the back of her neck. The intense gaze coupled with the sensation of his fingertips trailing down her back against the thin cotton of her tank top made her shiver. The phone rang again and he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

He peered at the face of his cell phone and frowned at the display. He answered it with a gruff, “Hello?”

Still dazed, Rach almost reached her fingers up to touch her mouth, but didn’t dare with his eyes staring so deep into hers. He was gorgeous in an intense, stern way. His brow furrowed and his eyes hardened and she wondered who had made him so angry. Gone was the reckless, impassioned man who’d kissed her and in his place was someone who looked as if he thrived on control.

“I realize that. Now’s not the time to discuss this.” His statement was firm and uncompromising. Rach had no trouble imagining him bossing people around and wondered if he intimidated his customers into buying jalopy cars against their better judgment.

Probably,
she sniffed and clasped her hands in front of her to keep from reaching for him or for her lips.

He lifted his wrist in a sharp jerking movement to glance down at his watch, already moving to the door. “I’ll be in at seven tomorrow morning. We can talk then.”

Craig shoved his phone in the pocket of his slacks, now avoiding her stare. And she was staring. Why should she let him off so easily? How he’d managed to change his train of thought in a few minutes was insulting. From the shift in his body language, he regretted his actions. The kiss had been his move, not hers. She hadn’t even invited him in! She stiffened with anger and tried to ignore the tiny hint of disappointment lurking in her head.

What do you care? He’s an ass
. And she wasn’t dating.
My decision
, she reminded herself.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rach taunted, pleased she had the upper hand this time. He snapped his attention back to her and looked nervous, as if she were one of those women who might corner him into a commitment.

After one kiss? Ridiculous
. And though the kiss had been exciting, it wasn’t so spectacular she was ready to rush out and purchase bridal magazines. Rach rolled her eyes and said, “You have no car, Einstein.”

“Fuck, I forgot about that,” he grumbled. His eyes drifted to the closed door as if he couldn’t get out soon enough.

Fed up with the situation, she turned on her heel and started up the stairs. Without a backward glance, she told him, “Call your brother then let yourself out. Make sure to lock the door behind you.”

She slammed the bathroom door shut and yanked off her shoes. All she’d wanted when she’d left the bar was never to see him again.

“Jackass,” she muttered as she tore off her clothes and dropped them into a pile on the bathroom floor. She turned on the shower and yanked the shower curtain closed. Standing under the spray of warm water, Rach tried to forget about the jerk’s soft lips and how his kiss clouded her vision and muddled her brain. Temporary insanity, that’s what she’d plead.

She dressed in pajamas and listened for movement below. The front door banged shut and she breathed a sigh of relief. After a few minutes passed, Rach went downstairs to lock the deadbolt on the door. She turned around and leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes. The headache the next morning from too many martinis was going to be rough.

Tally nipped at the toe of her sock and Rach pushed away from the door. She started up the stairs with the puppy bounding ahead of her. Flipping on her bedroom light, she told the golden retriever, “I really am relieved he’s gone.”

She didn’t think it was a lie.

****

“Don’t ask.” Craig glared at Rick’s presumptuous smile as he settled into the seat. “I’m not in the mood.”

What the hell had come over him? He was always so rational, but something about her...

She’s trouble
. He didn’t need drama in his life, not when he had a damn lawsuit to deal with and an ex who wouldn’t go away. The last thing he wanted was to get involved with a woman who in one moment insulted him and in the next made him tug her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

“Take me back to the bar so I can get my car,” he ordered, closing his eyes against the headache. He had a business to think about, not some loopy redhead who couldn’t drive.

The phone call had been Maggie, offering him an ear if he needed to talk about the latest media leak.
Another one.

Maggie had chirped how this time the anchorwoman mentioned how American Dream Autos and the plaintiff were unable to agree on a settlement amount and that a trial looked imminent. Whoever was leaking the information to the media was too close to the truth for comfort. No one but Craig, Craig’s attorneys, and the opposing party were supposed to know what had now become nighttime news. And Craig had no clue who the leak was.

The man’s first settlement demand had been for an outrageous three quarters of a million dollars. Craig had almost fainted at the number, but he’d feared his dad would have a stroke over it. Close; he’d flown into a tirade, cursing the legal system that allowed people to sue for anything at any time, and the lazy people who sued for exorbitant amounts of money they didn’t deserve, claiming never to be able to work again. Though Craig agreed with him, he’d kept his mouth shut and let his dad vent.

The man’s reasoning for the amount of money demanded for damages was ludicrous; he was claiming full disability for the rest of his life, though he’d only suffered a broken arm and superficial lacerations to the face, he claimed he was no longer able to be intimate with his wife due to his mental state after the accident, and he wanted an absurdly large amount for future medical bills in the event that he might need surgery one day. The man’s attorney was dragging the matter out as long as he could in hopes of getting a hand on as much of American Dream Autos’ insurance policy limits as he could.

If they weren’t able to come to a settlement agreement through mediation, which they’d been ordered by the judge to participate in, then they most certainly would be going to trial. Craig’s attorneys assured him that the matter would be settled in mediation, that the man would accept an amount well below a quarter of a million dollars, and the matter would be over within a few months. God, he hoped so. He wasn’t certain how many more sleepless nights he could handle, just wondering what kind of crap would be flashed on the ten o’clock news next. Yes, someone was out to ruin American Dream Autos’ reputation—or ruin Craig’s. Either way, the attack was personal.