Christmas with a Rockstar (Rock Revenge Trilogy 3.50)

“Not true, but all right. I’ll go over and take a shot, if you’re sure. Though I better move fast, since I’ve probably only got two-point-something seconds to snag him if he stomps on the gas.” I straightened my shoulders.

She shook her head at me as I took my first step. “Work your approach faster, roomie. He just put his blinker on. He’s gonna get away. And that’s $293,000 worth of sports car, before options.”

In other words, if I played it right, I might make rent.

I picked up the pace, jogging inelegantly to the vehicle, and bent over to tap on the passenger window.

When the driver slowly turned his head, my heart that was hammering from my dash to the curb slammed to a complete halt as his gaze hit mine. I’d never seen eyes like his before, so silver, the shiny platinum finish of his Porsche seemed tawdry in comparison.

A long moment passed as I took in his features. Tousled brown hair, strong jaw, chiseled lips, straight nose. He looked me over in return.

“Hey, handsome,” I said when he lowered the window.

I feigned confidence, though anyone who really knew me would have noticed that my voice was pitched a higher octave than usual. The potential for rejection with the initial approach always made me nervous. This one more than most. He was way too cute to be trolling the streets for a paid fuck.

“Wanna date for the night?”

“You even legal, little girl?” he asked, his sable brows arching to an interrogating level above his heart-stopping eyes.

Okay, maybe I had taken the schoolgirl thing a bit too far.

“Twenty-one last March.”

Most guys didn’t care about legalities. Was he a cop? I dismissed the idea immediately. Not likely. Not in a $300,000 car. Just cautious, probably. Another factor that made me wonder why he was soliciting.

I batted my eyelashes at him. “You wanna see my driver’s license, honey?”

The guy gave me a bored look. “No, not really. Just wanted to acknowledge your tap on my window.” Lifting a hand, he made a shooing motion. “You can step away from the car now. I’m not interested. Just pulled over to have a conversation on my phone. I mean, do I look like I need to pay a fucking prostitute to have sex with me?”

His rejection stung, making my temper flare.

“With manners like that, you couldn’t possibly pay me enough to put up with you,” I spat out without thinking.

“Get your filthy little hands off my car, Harley Quinn.” His platinum eyes flashed fiery silver.

I planted my fists on my hips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Those eyes of his were second-place silver to my defiant gold. I wasn’t an exotic half-Italian beauty like Cam, but his dismissal triggered my attitude. Attitude I couldn’t afford, but I let it rip anyway.

“Get your statusy piece-of-shit car off my corner. I was here first.” Head high, I flicked a pigtail over my shoulder. My bracelets jingled my irritation as I strolled away.

Take that, rich guy.

He didn’t immediately leave, and I didn’t turn to see what he was doing, even though I could feel his gaze on me. Swaying my hips provocatively, I moved to the car that had pulled in front of his Porsche.

Locks suddenly popped behind me. “Hey, Harley,” he called. “Wait up.”

I spun around and froze.

He stood next to his vehicle, the streetlight bathing his sculpted form. The breadth of his wide shoulders split open the lapels of his black leather jacket. He wore no shirt beneath it to hide the view of his chiseled pecs and abs. His smooth, golden-tanned skin glistened in the light as he casually propped his elbow on the roof of his car. Narrow hips and long legs in low-slung jeans completed the compelling portrait.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the air rolled through me as I withstood a heavily hooded leisurely scan from him.

His verdict? I couldn’t tell.

Mine? He was great—if you went for an incredibly handsome guy with arrogance stamped into every single cell of his flawless body.

“What do you want?” Not giving an inch, I narrowed my gaze, shooting haughty daggers at him.