Sensual Stranger Read Free

words spilled out
before she could stop them. “Lucky taught me.”
    Zach’s gaze edged to hers, revealing far too many questions
in his golden eyes. “Lucky?”
    “Just give me a chance to prove myself.” She rested her
helmet on the cabinet. The metal vibrated slightly from its weight. “I’m the
best damn mechanic there is.”
    Before he could challenge her statement, she backed toward
the red Saturn SC2, a two-door she guessed to be eighteen years old. Paint
bubbled on its roof. Part of the rubber molding on the passenger door was
missing. Glancing up, she waited until Zach’s eyes lifted from her breasts.
    The second they did, she asked, “What’s wrong with it?”
    Turning to face her, he leaned against the cabinet, feet
crossed at the ankles, his arms folded over his broad chest. He seemed
uncertain how to answer. And then, as if something inside him broke loose,
freeing him of restraint, a slow, sexy smile spread across his face. “You mean
the best damn mechanic there is doesn’t know?”
    She liked his teasing. She could spend days with his smile,
content to be the cause of it.
    Pretending offense, she played along, arching one brow.
“Even though I can fix anything you put in front of me, unfortunately I’m not
psychic.”
    He offered no response. His grin began to fade, his caution
returning.
    She spoke quickly. “Can I see the work order?”
    The edges of the papers fluttered in the mild breeze. He
made no move to offer them to her. A song reached its last chords on the radio.
The station’s peppy deejay counted down the artists whose recordings he’d just
played. Finished, he extolled the hearty breakfasts offered at the Last Chance
Diner.
    “Look, I need the job,” she explained. “And you obviously
need the help.” She gestured to the filled bays and in the direction of the
fenced lot she’d seen earlier while awaiting his arrival. Cars filled it too.
    He didn’t pull his attention from her.
    Not about to give up, unable to, she inclined her head to
the Saturn and asked again, “What’s wrong with it?”
    After a moment’s pause, Zach uncrossed his arms and reached
for the clipboard. Flipping two pages, he read from the sheet. “Doesn’t run
good.”
    She laughed. “That’s your mechanic’s assessment?”
    Fighting what looked to be a smile, he shook his head.
“That’s what Amy Dobson said. Tucson address. Must be a tourist.” He ran his
finger down the sheet, adding, “The engine’s hard to start and it runs rough.”
    “It’s older than a ninety-six, right?” she asked.
    His eyes widened, showing his surprise. “Ninety-three.”
    With a shrug, she made an educated guess. “Needs plugs.”
    Zach’s brows didn’t lower.
    “Spark plugs,” she clarified.
    “Yeah, I know what they are.” He tossed the clipboard back
on the cabinet. The metal vibrated loudly. “Lucky teach you about spark plugs?”
    She cursed her big mouth. “Care to make a bet that I’m
right?”
    He ran his thumb over his bristly jaw. “Thought you didn’t
have any money.”
    “I don’t. I’m willing to bet my job here if I’m wrong, which
I’m not.”
    His thumb paused.
    “Scared you’re mistaken about me?” she asked, a smile in her
voice.
    Color rose to his face. He turned his head at the sound of a
car racing down the otherwise placid street. “It’s not a matter of that.”
    “Then let me show you what I can do.” Not waiting for his
response or rejection, she unzipped her leather jacket, pulling it off.
    Instantly, he stared at her black tank top. The tight,
stretchy material clung to her, stopping just short of her waist, showing a
sliver of skin above her pants. With his attention fully on her, she approached.
He watched as she folded her jacket inside out and draped it over her helmet,
close to his side.
    “Where do you keep your ratchet wrenches and rags?” she
asked.
    Renewed surprise played across his face.
    “I just want to take a look,” she coaxed. “I won’t