Jump Start (Texas Hotzone 1)

“Oh, good grief,” Jennifer blurted. “Enough with the healing energy.”

“Okay,” Marcie said, grabbing a champagne bottle from a case sitting on the floor. “No healing energy. Let’s try alcohol-induced courage. Why don’t we pop one of these babies open and loosen you up?”

Jennifer pressed her hand to her face before fixing a glare on Marcie. “I don’t need to loosen up, because I told you,” she said, glaring, “I’m not sleeping with Bobby.”

“Ever?” At the sound of Bobby’s voice behind her, Jennifer’s heart stopped beating for an instant.

Her eyes met Marcie’s far too amused ones and she mouthed “I’m going to kill you” before whirling around to face the inevitable—Bobby looking like sin poured into denim and cotton. “Never,” she assured him, her knees weak.

And then damn him, his mouth twitched, the one she’d kissed that very morning.

“Never is a long time. I reserve the right to try to change your mind.”

The declaration sent a sudden flutter of butterflies through her stomach. She wanted him to want her. Wanted to kiss him again. It scared her how much, terrified her how easily she could once again have her heart broken.

Marcie cleared her throat. “Since you’re here, Bobby,” she said, “can you grab Mark and get the rest of the champagne out of the cars?”

“Sure,” he said. “Where are the keys?”

“Mark has mine,” Marcie said. “Is your car locked, Jen?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll get my keys.” From her purse. By the door. That she couldn’t get to without squeezing through the slim hallway where Bobby’s big, muscular, too-sexy body currently resided. The same way he’d been in the back of her mind, blocking the way into the future. Damn. Marcie was right. She hadn’t dealt with Bobby. She’d simply ignored her memories.

“They’re in my purse,” she said to Bobby and motioned him onward. “I’ll follow you out.”

He stood there an instant, his eyes lingering on her lips, as if he were thinking of the kiss they’d shared, before he stepped backward, into the hallway, and motioned her forward.

“Ladies first,” he challenged, leaving her a tiny space to pass.

Bobby arched an expectant brow. It was then that Jennifer realized Marcie was right—whatever happened needed to be on her terms. Melting into the floor wasn’t on her terms. She had to face Bobby and face her past. For now, though, she’d settle for getting past him and to her car.

Jennifer drew her shoulders back and charged forward, self-consciously thinking about the black jeans she’d be strutting in front of him. Wondering if he still thought she was attractive. Telling herself he did or he wouldn’t have kissed her. Telling herself that it didn’t matter, but knowing it most definitely did.

She breezed past Bobby with a determined stride that brought her inches from touching him, but she stared forward, refusing to look at him. Oh, but she felt him, might as well have touched him, imagined touching him. Her skin tingled, her stomach did a funny, fluttery thing. And his scent. Her nostrils flared with his delicious, familiar scent. All spicy and male. She knew that smell so well; she knew the name of the cologne, and the hot way it meshed with his body chemistry and turned to an aphrodisiac that drove her insane.

Jennifer grabbed her purse from the table by the door and turned to find Bobby towering over her. She swallowed hard. He was close. Inches. Awareness tingled in her nerve endings.

She was so in trouble. Clearly, avoiding Bobby wasn’t an option. Definitely. Not. But she would not have sex with Bobby either.

Holding up her keys, she jangled them. “I’ll walk out with you.” And leave, but she didn’t say that.

Mark appeared in the hallway, his shoulder-length dark hair tied at his neck, a contrast to Bobby’s short blond locks. And where Bobby was tall, broad and athletic, Mark was simply tall and lean.

“I’ve been ordered to remove all boxes from the cars,” Mark said, his tone laced with a hint of irritation. He eyed Bobby and nodded. “Hey, man. Sorry I didn’t say much when you came in. I was on the phone with one of our liquor vendors.”

They shook hands, as if they’d just recently met. Then again, for all she knew, Bobby had been home before now, and she didn’t know. Marcie had only started dating Mark two years before, but they might have casually met before now. Though Bobby’s mother had died of cancer when he was in his teens, and he had no siblings, his father owned an auto shop outside San Antonio, a little over an hour away. It was hard to believe that in seven years he hadn’t been home once.

“Talk Marcie into jumping yet?” Bobby asked Mark.

“No,” he said. “She’s too chicken. But I’m all about giving it a go. When do you have in mind?”