and, of course, the new guy wasn’t wearing a shirt. Why did the new guys always break the rules? Amanda walked up behind him.
“Howdy, stranger.”
Tom turned toward her with the hose, a stream of spray blasting past her right shoulder. Amanda ducked away but still got a little wet.
“Sorry, doll.”
Tom let go of the trigger. His jet-black hair was damp from the mist, the intricate tattoos adorning his broad chest gleamed in the sunlight. Yup. Tom was a good-looking guy, no doubt about it. But he was still breaking the rules.
“Did I get you?” Tom asked.
Amanda looked down at her white dress. She was a little damp from the spray, but the jet of water had basically missed her.
“I’m fine, but just so you know, you’re not supposed to take off your shirt at work.”
“I’m washing a car.”
“I know. But it’s not professional.”
“And wearing a shirt isn’t comfortable.”
Boy, Amanda thought. This guy was a piece of work. The water droplets glistened on his muscles in the hot sun. Of course, it was hot out, and he was washing car. He had a point.
“Look,” Amanda said, “I get your point. But I did help you get this job, and rules are rules. So I’d appreciate if you didn’t make me look bad and you just put your shirt back on.”
Tom smiled. It was a big, bright smile, perfect teeth grinning back at her. But there was a hint of something else there as well, a hint of danger, and Amanda found herself attracted to him. Attracted to the thrill of uncertainty she felt in his presence.
“Since you put it that way.” Tom reached for the bench and pulled on a white T-shirt.
“Thank you,” Amanda said.
“Tell me something,” Tom said. He looked Amanda up and down.
“What?”
“You like to drive?”
“Like how?”
“Fast.”
Amanda could tell that Tom was doing more than looking at her— he was devouring her. He was consuming her with his eyes. She wore a white cotton dress and his look ran from her bare, golden-brown legs, up and around her curvy hips, and then onto her ample breasts, where he lingered for a moment before meeting her light-green eyes.
“I can tell by looking at you. You like to drive, maybe even race a little.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Your look. Everything about you says speed.”
Amanda smiled.
“I don’t know if I should be flattered,” Amanda asked.
“Better than being offended,” Tom said.
“Then I’ll be flattered. Yes. I like to go for a ride occasionally. Sometimes even a fast ride.”
Amanda eyed a car parked in the back lot, far beyond the Ferrari. It wasn’t the usual high-end product the dealership carried. No, it was a street-legal race car: a heavily modified rice rocket in glittering metallic red paint.
“Is that your ride?”
“Why? You like it?”
“Not too shabby,” Amanda said. “You got NOS in that thing?”
“She’s packing.”
NOS was some kind of racing boost system Amanda had heard the guys in the garage talking about. It was supposed to give the car a blast of power to win at the end of a race. She didn’t know much more about it than that. What she did know was that if you wanted a guy to like you, all you had to do was ask about his toys.
“You know, I still need to thank you for getting me this job.”
“That you do,” Amanda said.
“So you and I should go for a ride sometime,” Tom said.
“You think that’s a good idea?”
“Sometimes bad ideas are the best ones.”
Amanda laughed. “You need to sign this.”
Amanda handed him the paperwork and a pen, and Tom hunched over to sign the papers. Amanda firmly believed in karma, and she was pleased that she was able to help him get this job. What was the expression? What goes around comes around? It felt good to give back. Not to mention the fact that Tom Cooper was hot. Amanda wondered what it would be like to have his hands on her, to feel those ripped muscles up close, to taste his heat.
“Here you go,” Tom said, handing her the
“Howdy, stranger.”
Tom turned toward her with the hose, a stream of spray blasting past her right shoulder. Amanda ducked away but still got a little wet.
“Sorry, doll.”
Tom let go of the trigger. His jet-black hair was damp from the mist, the intricate tattoos adorning his broad chest gleamed in the sunlight. Yup. Tom was a good-looking guy, no doubt about it. But he was still breaking the rules.
“Did I get you?” Tom asked.
Amanda looked down at her white dress. She was a little damp from the spray, but the jet of water had basically missed her.
“I’m fine, but just so you know, you’re not supposed to take off your shirt at work.”
“I’m washing a car.”
“I know. But it’s not professional.”
“And wearing a shirt isn’t comfortable.”
Boy, Amanda thought. This guy was a piece of work. The water droplets glistened on his muscles in the hot sun. Of course, it was hot out, and he was washing car. He had a point.
“Look,” Amanda said, “I get your point. But I did help you get this job, and rules are rules. So I’d appreciate if you didn’t make me look bad and you just put your shirt back on.”
Tom smiled. It was a big, bright smile, perfect teeth grinning back at her. But there was a hint of something else there as well, a hint of danger, and Amanda found herself attracted to him. Attracted to the thrill of uncertainty she felt in his presence.
“Since you put it that way.” Tom reached for the bench and pulled on a white T-shirt.
“Thank you,” Amanda said.
“Tell me something,” Tom said. He looked Amanda up and down.
“What?”
“You like to drive?”
“Like how?”
“Fast.”
Amanda could tell that Tom was doing more than looking at her— he was devouring her. He was consuming her with his eyes. She wore a white cotton dress and his look ran from her bare, golden-brown legs, up and around her curvy hips, and then onto her ample breasts, where he lingered for a moment before meeting her light-green eyes.
“I can tell by looking at you. You like to drive, maybe even race a little.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Your look. Everything about you says speed.”
Amanda smiled.
“I don’t know if I should be flattered,” Amanda asked.
“Better than being offended,” Tom said.
“Then I’ll be flattered. Yes. I like to go for a ride occasionally. Sometimes even a fast ride.”
Amanda eyed a car parked in the back lot, far beyond the Ferrari. It wasn’t the usual high-end product the dealership carried. No, it was a street-legal race car: a heavily modified rice rocket in glittering metallic red paint.
“Is that your ride?”
“Why? You like it?”
“Not too shabby,” Amanda said. “You got NOS in that thing?”
“She’s packing.”
NOS was some kind of racing boost system Amanda had heard the guys in the garage talking about. It was supposed to give the car a blast of power to win at the end of a race. She didn’t know much more about it than that. What she did know was that if you wanted a guy to like you, all you had to do was ask about his toys.
“You know, I still need to thank you for getting me this job.”
“That you do,” Amanda said.
“So you and I should go for a ride sometime,” Tom said.
“You think that’s a good idea?”
“Sometimes bad ideas are the best ones.”
Amanda laughed. “You need to sign this.”
Amanda handed him the paperwork and a pen, and Tom hunched over to sign the papers. Amanda firmly believed in karma, and she was pleased that she was able to help him get this job. What was the expression? What goes around comes around? It felt good to give back. Not to mention the fact that Tom Cooper was hot. Amanda wondered what it would be like to have his hands on her, to feel those ripped muscles up close, to taste his heat.
“Here you go,” Tom said, handing her the
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