Dirty Distractions (Afternoon Delight 1)

Brad tucked his keys in his pocket and took his sweet time wiping his hands. She had no doubt his slowness was intentional. The guy sure knew how to stew. “Ready?” he asked, finally picking up his keys again.

“Sure.” She gripped her purse. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He led her out and locked the door, affirming her opinion that the place had emptied out shortly after her arrival. She’d always been good at clearing rooms. “You sure you’ll be okay in my truck?” He glanced at her slim skirt and heels. “We do have a waiting area. Nothing fancy enough to suit ice-dick Winters, but it’s clean.”

She hated that she wanted to giggle. First, because she shouldn’t be laughing at the moniker “ice-dick” after Dustin had been nice enough to give her a ride. Secondly, because she knew to do so would encourage Brad’s macho posturing. Something he seemed to have a handle on all on his own.

“I’ve been here before, you know. And your big truck doesn’t scare me.” Deliberately she ran her gaze up and down his body. She took advantage of his astonishment and grabbed hold of the passenger door before he could, hauling herself inside with only a minimum of awkwardness.

And if she flashed a little leg while doing so, oh well.

He joined her in the cabin and pulled out of the lot. “You could’ve called me. You should’ve called me rather than him.”

It was awfully difficult to think straight when Brad’s oddly arousing scent of motor oil, a hint of sweat, and his spicy aftershave had overtaken her brain. “You think I called Dustin?”

“Didn’t you?”

She sighed and tugged at a loose thread on her skirt. “Look, Brad, we slept together. You didn’t slap a cuff on my ankle or a band on my ring finger.”

He shot her a glance that could’ve frozen hot lava. “Duly noted, Doctor.”

“Oh, stop it. I’m just saying there’s no need for…this.” She waved a hand between them. “But for your information, I didn’t call him. He drove by. I was going to call you.”

Brad didn’t say anything more until he’d hooked her car up to the hitch on the back of his truck and they’d returned to the shop. “I’ll drop you off at the house and come back here. It’ll be ready for you in the a.m., assuming I don’t need parts.”

“But it’s past eight. The shop’s closed.”

“I’m the boss, remember? And you need a car tomorrow for work.” He mopped his grease-stained arm over his forehead, ruffling his already distractingly messy hair. “Go home and watch some TV with Kim. Unless you have other plans.”

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms. “No. I don’t have plans. Not tonight anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means the benefit’s getting closer.” She resisted the urge to scuff her toe over the asphalt as she peered up at him in the thin yellow beam of light over the door. “Are you coming with me or not?”

Cocking his head, he scratched his jaw. “Sure that won’t cramp your style? Since I don’t clean up nearly as nice as you do,” he drawled, taking his own slow perusal of her body.

“Don’t be daft.”

“Can’t help it, sweetheart. I don’t have a fancy doctorate. My only education’s in what I can do with my hands.” He flexed them and hooked his thumb

s in the pockets of his jeans. “Though I don’t get a lot of complaints there.”

“More childish posturing.” She shook her head and turned around, of half a mind to walk home even in her heels. It was a nice night, warm and breezy, and the house wasn’t far. They both could stand to cool off, far away from each other. “Give me a call when you’re ready to—”

She wasn’t expecting his hand to lock around her arm or for him to haul her straight back into his chest. Goddamn, it was like a brick wall encased in sleek muscle and smooth, golden skin. She remembered exploring it with her fingers. Her tongue.

“Going somewhere, Doc?” His sultry question stirred the hair beside her ear.

Her breath lodged in her throat, the same place her pulse was beating like a hummingbird on Red Bull. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Says your brain. Your body? Not so much.” Proving his point, he dragged his wide hand down the front of her silky blouse, veering upward to blatantly cup her breast at the same time he nipped her earlobe. She let out a sound that wasn’t quite a moan, but it also wasn’t a protest. “Your nipples are already hard for me.”

Though she knew he routinely wiped his hands—at least in her presence—she checked her pristine blouse to make sure there were no visible fingerprints. Not that she even cared about harming the fabric. She’d rather not advertise the “I got felt up” factor. “We’re standing in the parking lot of your business.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Idly, he circled his hips and brought her ass in direct contact with the hard column in his jeans that was most certainly not his wallet. “Kinda hot, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t easy to pull off disdain when he had his fingers on her painfully stiff nipple, but she refused to give up without a fight. “I’ve never needed to get my thrills in public.”