She's Got It Bad (10 page)

He smiled, a big broad grin that almost knocked her back on her heels it was so dazzling.

“Good. Great.”

He tossed the folio back onto the bed.

“Take a look at those. The workshop address is on the first page. I’ll expect you at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Eight?” Normally she didn’t start at the parlor until ten, sometimes eleven.

“You heard me. And bring some of your art with you. Your design book, anything else you’ve got. We need to have a war council.”

He pressed a warm hand to her shoulder, then he was gone. She stared at the drawings on her bed and let out a deep sigh. No matter what she promised herself, Liam kept getting beneath her defenses. And now she’d just agreed to work for him.

She was an idiot. But that was nothing new. She’d always been a fool for Liam Masters, hadn’t she?

LIAM FELT SEVENTEEN all over again when Zoe walked into Masters Mechanics the next morning. She was wearing worn jeans, a black T-shirt and scuffed cowboy boots, and every man in the workshop stopped in his tracks to stare at her. Including Liam.

As he watched her breasts bounce and her hips sway, he acknowledged that it was going to be hard to work with her every day and keep his hands to himself. There had been precious few times in his adult life when he’d wanted a woman and couldn’t have her, and there’d never been any woman who compelled him as much as Zoe. But she was out-of-bounds. She deserved better. Always had, always would.

She was carrying a two-ring binder and an artist’s folio and she stopped and looked around uncertainly until she spotted him in his office doorway.

“You made it,” he said.

“Yep.”

Her gaze took in the racks of bike parts, the half-assembled frames, the three completed choppers ready for road testing.

“This is a little different from what I was expecting,” she said.

“You want a tour? I’ll introduce you to the guys at the same time.”

“Sure. Where can I dump my stuff?”

He showed her into his office and she left her binder and folio on his desk. She glanced around at the plain white walls and functional furniture, then studied the piles of paperwork on his desk.

“You don’t spend a lot of time in here,” she said.

It was a statement, not a question.

“As little as possible. I like to keep my hand in on the shop floor.”

“You mean you hate admin stuff and making big boys toys is a lot more fun.”

“Like I said.”

He led her out to the front office and introduced her to the receptionist, accountant and office assistant. His marketing manager, Mathew, hastily ended a phone call and casually drifted out to join them and ensure he scored an introduction. He looked at Zoe like she was edible the whole time they exchanged greetings. Liam gave the other man a dark look and led Zoe into the workshop.

He had four fabricating teams at present, each working on their own projects in separate areas of the large warehouse space. To a man they all transformed from articulate, intelligent human beings into monosyllabic beef heads the moment they were standing in front of Zoe. Liam had never seen a better mass impersonation of drooling apes in all his life. Even Vinnie turned into a goggle-eyed idiot as soon as he was within sniffing distance, and he’d sworn off women for life after his ex-wife divorced him and took the kids.

It wasn’t just the way her jeans clung her to her high, firm ass or the length of her legs or the smooth, full thrust of her breasts beneath her T-shirt. Although all those things probably had a lot to do with it. Zoe was sexy. She oozed a sort of unconscious body awareness that had a man imagining her naked almost before he’d registered the clear, direct green of her gaze or the knowing, sarcastic tilt to her mouth.

Liam stood with his arms crossed over his chest and watched as Zoe listened to Vinnie explaining the customer’s brief for the half-assembled bike in front of them.

She was a handful, full of attitude, hot as hell. And, as he could attest, an incredibly wild ride.

Not that any of his employees would ever get close enough to find that out. Not if they wanted to keep eating with their own teeth.

“They seem like nice guys,” she said as he led her to his office.

He grunted.

She gave him a sideways look. He realized she looked tired and belatedly remembered her sick cat.

“How’s your cat holding up?” he asked as he took a seat behind his desk and she sat opposite him.

“The vet said she had a good night. If she keeps improving, I can pick her and the kittens up tomorrow night.”

“Kittens?”

“Two boys, two girls. I guess I’ll have to start looking around for homes for them.”

She paused significantly. He kept his face impassive. Cats were not his thing—he was a dog man from way back.

“I’m sure you won’t have any problems. You should let the guys know. Half of them are married with kids. They’d probably jump at the chance to score a free pet.”

And no doubt the other half would be prepared to take on an eating, sleeping fur ball if they thought it would score them any points with her.

“Good idea,” she said.

He drew the two-ring binder toward him.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Sure.”

She sat on the edge of her chair, eyes wary, as he flicked through what was essentially a photographic catalog of her tattoo work. Some of the pieces were truly spectacular, real works of art that made him regret the lack of uniformity of his own ink work.

“Some nice stuff in here,” he said. “No wonder Jake was so cut up when I spoke to him yesterday.”

She shifted in her seat.

“I owe him an apology. I was pretty nuts yesterday. Wound up about Lucky, tired.” She shrugged.

He opened the folio and sat a little straighter when he saw the airbrush artwork inside. Zoe twisted her hands together, a frown on her face as she watched him work his way through the folder.

“I’ve never had any formal training, so technically they’re not great,” she said after a few minutes broken only by the sound of him leafing through her art. “In fact, they’re pretty amateurish, so if you’re freaking out right now worrying about how to let me down gently, just say it. I totally understand.”

He looked up at her, noting her tense, ready-to-spring-to-her-feet posture.

“Zoe. These are amazing. If we can come up with a way to adapt your style into three dimensions, we’re going to kick ass,” he said.

An uncertain, surprised smile flickered across her lips for a second before she got control of it.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. How can you not know how good these are?”

She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs.

“Well, of course I know they’re great, but I couldn’t expect a Philistine like you to appreciate them,” she said.

God forbid that anyone ever see that Zoe was vulnerable or uncertain or needy.

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” he said.

She shrugged a shoulder, but a slow smile stole across her face. He found himself smiling back at her.

“I want to show this stuff to Vinnie and a couple of the other guys, do a round table to see what we can come up with.”

“You’re the boss.”

The nervousness was back in her eyes, but he knew that seeing the guys’ reactions to her work was the best medicine for her self-doubt. They weren’t the kind of men to blow smoke up someone’s backside for no reason. Even if that backside was pretty much the hottest thing around.

He had Vinnie pull together Paul, the lead spray painter, and Kinko, the geeky genius who helped them model their projects virtually on the computer before they ever put hammer to metal.

The five of them sat at the round table in the staff room and passed around Zoe’s folio and the design drawings for the competition chopper.

“Hey. You’re good,” Vinnie said as he studied Zoe’s work. “Really good.”

Liam gave the other man a hard look.

“Why do you think she’s here?” he asked.

Vinnie shrugged a shoulder. Liam knew exactly what he was thinking. He turned to Zoe, who was sitting back taking it all in.

“How do you feel about working up some ideas for us?” he asked.

“Sure. It would help if I had some kind of starting point. Like what your inspiration was when you designed the bike, that sort of thing,” she said.

Vinnie leaned forward and launched into a description of the vintage choppers he’d loved as a teenager, explaining how he’d adapted classic elements in the original designs to create a more modern look.

“Liam came up with the idea of using the old Eagle frame we’ve had kicking around for a while, stretching it out a little. Then we worked together on the design for these formed fenders. You’ve got a lot of surface area to work with—the fenders, the fuel tank, the oil tank,” he said.

“So vintage meets today,” Zoe said, jotting ideas down on a notepad. “Old school meets new school.”

She pushed her pencil between her lips when she finished writing, sucking lightly on the end.

Liam shifted in his seat. He could remember her sucking on his tongue just like that, her fingers digging into his hips and ass as she urged him to pump harder, faster. He could remember the wet slide of his body inside hers, the low moan she’d made as she came….

Aware that his jeans suddenly felt a size too small, Liam tore his gaze away and shifted in his seat again.

“We still got that wrecked Harley out the back?” he asked Paul.

“Yeah. Davo started stripping it for parts the other day, but we haven’t got around to finishing it yet.”

“Let’s give the gas tank to Zoe for a practice run.” Liam turned to her. “That way you can experiment a little, get used to the curves and angles, try out a few ideas.”

She was nodding. “Thanks. I’d really appreciate that.”

The meeting broke up and Zoe followed Paul out to collect the Harley tank. Liam watched them walk away, talking and laughing easily.

Zoe was comfortable around men. She always had been—she’d been a tomboy growing up, and he bet she still didn’t own a single skirt. Not that she was unfeminine in any way. She was one of those rare women who could hang out with the guys without ever being in danger of becoming one of them.

“Man, she’s gorgeous, eh?” Vinnie said beside him.

Liam eyed his chief designer. “Don’t even think about it.”

Vinnie held up both hands.

“Hey, I’m not a complete moron. I know better than to horn in on the boss’s woman.”

Liam frowned and turned to face him full-on.

“She’s not my woman. She’s an old friend. A family friend.”

“Sure she is.”

Liam swore. “Is it too much to ask for you to keep your mind out of the gutter for five seconds?

How about a little respect?”

Vinnie smirked and shook his head. “Oh, man.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Vinnie was still smirking when he moved off to rejoin his team.

Liam slammed the door to his office and did a lap before he admitted to himself that he wanted to follow Paul and Zoe out into the yard and shadow their every step, just in case Paul tried any moves on her.

Which was ridiculous, not to mention embarrassing.

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced around his office for distraction. His gaze fell on the wall clock. It was barely ten. He had a whole day left of watching Zoe interact with his almost all-male staff, then another three weeks and four days after that.

Shit.

He watched through the glass wall of his office as Paul and Zoe returned, Paul carrying the tank for her. Paul said something and Zoe laughed loudly, then punched him on the arm. The look Paul gave her was so full of speculative lust that Liam couldn’t help himself. He left his office and strode to meet them.

“Thanks for that, Paul. I’ll show Zoe where she can set up,” he said coolly.

Paul looked startled at the abrupt dismissal.

“Um, sure. Okay,” he said, heading back to the spray booth.

“He’s a funny guy,” she said.

“Yeah. Hilarious.”

He found her an unused workbench and helped her set up her airbrush with one of their air compressors.

“Paul said he’d help me out with any paints or whatever I might need,” she said.

I bet he did.

“Great. I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said.

Zoe was already opening her sketch pad to a fresh page. She glanced up at him when he remained standing at her side.

“Was there something else?” she asked.

His gaze traveled over her face, taking in her smooth skin, the fullness of her bottom lip, the small, puzzled frown between her eyebrows.

“No.”

Calling himself ten different kinds of fool, he strode back to his office. Had he really signed on for four weeks of this?

Shit.

ZOE WAS NERVOUS. No point denying it, even if only to herself. Her hands were trembling as she assembled her air gun. She wanted to live up to the trust Liam had put in her. She wanted to be as good as he seemed to think she was.

Who was she kidding? She wanted to impress him, knock him on his ass with her talent and skill.

Which was exactly why it had been so foolhardy to take on this job. She had too much history with Liam for things to ever be cut-and-dried between them.

For the twentieth time that day, her gaze swept the huge warehouse that was home to Masters Mechanics. She’d been impressed by his shiny, professional business card, but this was something else altogether. She’d counted over twenty-five staff this morning and was sure there were more she hadn’t met yet.

When Liam had told her he built bikes, she’d imagined a small workshop and a couple of guys—

including Liam—in overalls and grease. Not this place, with its gleaming concrete floors and racks of shiny bike parts and busy, productive build crews.

Liam was a success. A big success. No wonder he was in a position to offer to help her out. And no wonder she was feeling so intimidated and nervous that she was stalling, fooling around with her equipment rather than getting into real work.

She pushed her air gun to one side impatiently and pulled her sketch pad toward herself. At the top of the page she wrote “old school” and “tradition” in big bold letters. She tapped her pencil against her teeth for a few seconds, then added the word “today.”