business.”
Evan fought the annoyance that always flared when he was within ten feet of Kendall Holbrook. The woman drove him insane, and not in a good way. Why she always had to be antagonistic was beyond him. If memory served she was the one who had dumped him all those years ago. He’d been a nineteen-year-old idiot rushing into love, on the verge of popping a certain question to her, when she had disappeared, not returning his calls and totally avoiding him. After a few weeks that he would like to erase from his memory banks, involving desperate voice mails and pounding on her front door begging her to talk to him, he had given up and crawled away to lick his wounds.
So where did she get off being hostile when he was the one who had been wronged? And here he was, just trying to be friendly and joke around with her.
“Furthermore,” she said, her finger coming up.
Furthermore? Good Lord. She was about to rant. He could see it brewing in her. For a woman as tiny as she was, she’d always managed to be good at getting worked up. Kendall stood five-two on a tall day, with a petite body and long blond hair. She looked like a high school cheerleader, not a stock car driver.
At the moment her hair was in a ponytail, and it occurred to him that she looked kind of cute in her fury.
“I was remarking on the fact that my gender is all together too much a topic of conversation around the track, which you proved by coming over here and dropping that appallingly sexist comment.”
“I was teasing you,” he said, enunciating carefully to drive his point home. “It was a joke. We do that around here, give each other a hard time.”
“You don’t know me well enough to be tossing off comments about my vagina.”
Evan’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really?”
It might have been a while, but Evan knew every inch of Kendall’s body, including all her female parts. In fact, if memory served, he had been the first one to explore that particular stretch of highway. Kendall seemed to realize her error, too, because she immediately started to bluster.
“I mean, you know, we’re coworkers, that’s it. Not friends. I highly doubt you talk to the other drivers about their penises.”
Evan went from annoyed to amused. Her cheeks had turned pink when she said “penis.” He felt his face split into a grin. “No, we don’t talk about penises. That would be awkward. But we definitely mention dick now and again. Bragging about our own. Mocking someone else’s. It’s all standard guy talk. You know, dicks. Cocks.”
Her blush deepened to a deep shade of red and her eyes widened. “You’re just trying to unnerve me. It’s not going to work. You can talk about all the . . .” She hesitated then threw back her shoulders and said, “ dick that you want. Just leave my body out of it.”
“You’re the one who brought up your va–jay-jay, not me.” Feeling more in control because he got the distinct feeling Kendall wasn’t feeling in control, Evan just smiled complacently at her. “Who’s your friend, by the way?”
He stuck his hand out towards the brunette who had been watching their exchange with obvious interest. “I’m Evan Monroe.”
“Tuesday Jones. Nice to meet you.”
“The sports reporter? Bob’s daughter?” Kendall’s friend was attractive, wearing jeans, boots, and a long coat. Her skin was fair, lips vibrant red. He couldn’t see her eyes behind the sunglasses, but he would guess they were a deep brown. Attractive, but not his style. He leaned more towards stubborn blondes.
“That’s me.”
“Tuesday is an interesting name. I bet there’s a story behind it.”
“Yes, there is.” She tilted her head, her demeanor very confident and almost remote. “And I’ll tell it to you when you buy me a drink tonight.”
Very smooth. A lady who knew how to play the game.
Unlike Kendall, who gave a snort to his right.
Evan didn’t feel any burning desire to go out with Tuesday, but she was a
Evan fought the annoyance that always flared when he was within ten feet of Kendall Holbrook. The woman drove him insane, and not in a good way. Why she always had to be antagonistic was beyond him. If memory served she was the one who had dumped him all those years ago. He’d been a nineteen-year-old idiot rushing into love, on the verge of popping a certain question to her, when she had disappeared, not returning his calls and totally avoiding him. After a few weeks that he would like to erase from his memory banks, involving desperate voice mails and pounding on her front door begging her to talk to him, he had given up and crawled away to lick his wounds.
So where did she get off being hostile when he was the one who had been wronged? And here he was, just trying to be friendly and joke around with her.
“Furthermore,” she said, her finger coming up.
Furthermore? Good Lord. She was about to rant. He could see it brewing in her. For a woman as tiny as she was, she’d always managed to be good at getting worked up. Kendall stood five-two on a tall day, with a petite body and long blond hair. She looked like a high school cheerleader, not a stock car driver.
At the moment her hair was in a ponytail, and it occurred to him that she looked kind of cute in her fury.
“I was remarking on the fact that my gender is all together too much a topic of conversation around the track, which you proved by coming over here and dropping that appallingly sexist comment.”
“I was teasing you,” he said, enunciating carefully to drive his point home. “It was a joke. We do that around here, give each other a hard time.”
“You don’t know me well enough to be tossing off comments about my vagina.”
Evan’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really?”
It might have been a while, but Evan knew every inch of Kendall’s body, including all her female parts. In fact, if memory served, he had been the first one to explore that particular stretch of highway. Kendall seemed to realize her error, too, because she immediately started to bluster.
“I mean, you know, we’re coworkers, that’s it. Not friends. I highly doubt you talk to the other drivers about their penises.”
Evan went from annoyed to amused. Her cheeks had turned pink when she said “penis.” He felt his face split into a grin. “No, we don’t talk about penises. That would be awkward. But we definitely mention dick now and again. Bragging about our own. Mocking someone else’s. It’s all standard guy talk. You know, dicks. Cocks.”
Her blush deepened to a deep shade of red and her eyes widened. “You’re just trying to unnerve me. It’s not going to work. You can talk about all the . . .” She hesitated then threw back her shoulders and said, “ dick that you want. Just leave my body out of it.”
“You’re the one who brought up your va–jay-jay, not me.” Feeling more in control because he got the distinct feeling Kendall wasn’t feeling in control, Evan just smiled complacently at her. “Who’s your friend, by the way?”
He stuck his hand out towards the brunette who had been watching their exchange with obvious interest. “I’m Evan Monroe.”
“Tuesday Jones. Nice to meet you.”
“The sports reporter? Bob’s daughter?” Kendall’s friend was attractive, wearing jeans, boots, and a long coat. Her skin was fair, lips vibrant red. He couldn’t see her eyes behind the sunglasses, but he would guess they were a deep brown. Attractive, but not his style. He leaned more towards stubborn blondes.
“That’s me.”
“Tuesday is an interesting name. I bet there’s a story behind it.”
“Yes, there is.” She tilted her head, her demeanor very confident and almost remote. “And I’ll tell it to you when you buy me a drink tonight.”
Very smooth. A lady who knew how to play the game.
Unlike Kendall, who gave a snort to his right.
Evan didn’t feel any burning desire to go out with Tuesday, but she was a
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