Blaze navigated them out to the freeway, and after consulting his phone for a minute, they were moving in the right direction.
At least, she thought they were.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one,” Blaze deadpanned, staring straight ahead. He pushed the sedan faster than it should go, considering it was a four door, not at all sporty model, and the engine screamed in protest.
Colette moved her hand to the holy shit handle without even noticing she’d done it. Blaze noticed though. Because he turned to her with a shit-eating grin lighting up his far too handsome face.
“What choice do I have? You put me on the plane and took off before I could get myself out. You trapped me in the air because I wasn’t going to bail at two thousand feet or whatever. Last time I checked, I’m not well versed on how to use a parachute. Now I’m stuck in the middle of the desert, in another state, in a moving vehicle. So, unless I’m going to jump from it at sixty miles an hour, which I’m not, what other option is there?”
“Just checking. I wanted to hear you say it.”
“Say what? That I trust you? I totally don’t.”
Colette pressed her lips together in a firm line and stared straight ahead. The miles rolled by, the car eating up the road. She had to admit, she liked the scenery. It was different. The desert terrain was so barren it was the exact opposite of the high-rise buildings and bustle of the city. The red dirt hills, the strange plants, the occasional cactus- she had to admit it was pretty in a way she never considered that it would be.
Arizona wasn’t exactly on her bucket list of places to visit.
“I’m hurt, Office Baby.” There was a smirk in his voice and when her gaze swiveled to the side, there was one on his face to match.
Colette tried really hard not to sit there and study Blaze, but she had no other choice. It was the first time she’d ever seen him in anything other than his immaculate, expensive office attire. No suit today. No dress shirt and dress pants. No. He wore a faded pair of jeans that were clearly well loved, given the way they cupped an ass that had clearly been carved of rock by someone who hated women. An ass like that just wasn’t fair. The denim looked soft to the touch and her fingertips practically vibrated with the need to touch it to see if it actually was.
He had a tight t-shirt on, a plain black thing that shouldn’t have been so appealing. As it was, her mouth may have watered slightly when her eyes got a load of the way his biceps kept bulging and the way his forearms were all striated and veiny.
No, she was not sitting there contemplating licking him. She didn’t want to know if his skin would be sweet or salty or maybe some strange, heady, spicy mixture like the scent of him currently filling up the car and making her head swim stupidly.
Without thinking, Colette reached over and jacked up the button on the AC. Blaze turned to look at her, that evil smirk still in place and a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Why the heck do you have one of those puddle jumping planes anyway?” she snapped, annoyed with her body’s response.
She felt like she was burning up from the inside out, and Blaze was the bastard holding the gas can over the flames, banking the spark eating up her stomach into a full-on roaring bonfire. Not the good hotdog, marshmallow roasting kind either. The get away from here, burn down your house, shitty kind.
“I wasn’t aware that there was anything wrong with it.”
“There is. First of all, it looks like it’s a hundred years old. Secondly, it’s a death trap. For real. It kept rattling and knocking and sputtering like it was going to fall apart and die out at the same time. I was scared for my life. What’s wrong with having something new and nice and letting someone else pilot you around? Or are you not really that rich?”
Blaze laughed, a good-humored chuckle that did things to her belly. Maybe to her panties as well. “I’m really that rich, but I fly enough for business on that kind of thing. Anyone can let someone else fly them around. Flying yourself, now that’s a different experience. And I happen to like classics. I have a few classic cars as well. Okay, maybe more than a few. I actually have a pretty good collection going. Old trucks. Cars. Wagons. All that kind of stuff.”
“Wagons?”
“Yeah.”
“Like the horse and buggy kind?”
“You bet.”
“But why? It’s not like you’re going to use that anytime soon. Or were you planning on getting a horse for your mansion and driving your buggy to work? I think you’d need a special parking stall for that. And some oats or something.”