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“Well, you’re out of luck there,” Allison quipped back. “Haven’t you heard? Claim checks are now as uncool as Milli Vanilli and the grunge look. If you’re not in the computer, you’re history.”
“Whatever you say,” Erin laughed. “Go grab your stud, woman.”
Allison was still smiling as she hung up the phone. The truth was, she’d been fantasizing about her mechanic all afternoon—going hot repeatedly at the memory of those pale eyes undressing her with their unique mix of fire and ice. She’d been filled with a restless anticipation at the thought of seeing him again. He was so carefree, outrageously cocky and blatantly sensual. So different from Adam, who’d been handsome and intelligent, but so intense and moody he’d driven her nuts.
Of course, if she did pursue this…well, she could be making a bad mistake on the rebound with Mr. Bedroom Eyes. But not if she firmly set the parameters and neither of them took this too seriously.
She smiled. To be totally honest, perhaps this mechanic also appealed to the rebel in her. Allison hailed from a stuffy, conservative Highland Park family, and a small devil in her liked the idea of thumbing her nose at the snobby parents who would never approve of her having a fling with a guy from the wrong side of the tracks.
As for her brother Doug, who was, in his own way, as stodgy as her folks, he would likely howl with laughter if he knew his sophisticated younger sister was thinking of taking up with Big Tex. Although Allison and Doug had never been particularly close, there had always been a bit of older brother/younger sister rivalry between them. Like Erin and T.J., Doug often teased Allison about being a mankiller—but she could always hear the admiration in his voice, as if he privately wished he could be as daring as she was in his social life.
And daring she was. Allison had retrieved the service advisor’s card from her jacket pocket, and was about to pick up the phone when a knock came at her door. “Yes?”
Her new assistant, Katie Freshausen, a bright-eyed young redhead, burst in. “Ms. Tracy, the garage just rang up to tell us some guy named Pete is downstairs waiting to deliver your car.”
“Some guy named Pete?” Allison repeated, mystified. “Who is he, and what is he doing here with my car?”
Katie gulped. “Sorry, boss, I haven’t a clue.”
“Don’t apologize. Why would you know?” Allison stood and grabbed her bag. “Guess I’d better go downstairs and investigate. I’m about done for the day, anyway.”
“Yes, ma’am. Have a good evening.”
“You, too, Katie.”
When Allison emerged out the front door of the smoky, gray-glass building, she spotted her freshly washed, gleaming car waiting in the nearby turnaround, with Dave Blodgett sitting behind the wheel. Her pulse automatically quickened at the sight of him. Even though he now wore a black western hat, she could see a spark of recognition cross his handsome face on seeing her.
The car door whipped open and he emerged. That’s when she noticed how very different he was. Still lanky, powerful, Dave was now attired more in keeping with his cavalier cowboy image. A black western shirt clung to his muscular torso, and tight, sexy black jeans hugged his lean waist and trim hips, outlining a mouthwatering male bulge at his crotch as well as powerful thighs and long legs. A silver belt buckle, and shiny black alligator boots, gleamed in the afternoon light. As she drew nearer he swept off his Stetson and clipped into an elegant bow.
Oh, darlin’, she thought with a sudden, unbidden wince of longing. Heat up that branding iron.
Momentarily Allison stopped in her tracks, unable to believe her own runaway thoughts. Normally she scorned down-home aphorisms as well as the entire country and western scene. But this man definitely unleashed something primitive in her. For a moment she was pure cowgirl pursuing her cowboy, corny as that sounded.
Reaching her car, she had to laugh. “What is this?”
He replaced his hat and leaned lazily against her sedan, his mouth assuming its usual sexy quirk. “Service with a smile, ma’am.”
Allison groaned. “I can’t believe you drove over here, in my car, and calling yourself Pete—”
“I am Pete.”
“But the card you gave me said Dave, damn it.”
“That curious about me, were you, sweetheart?” he teased, appearing delighted.
She pulled the card from her jacket pocket and waved it at him. “Explain this.”
“I was just filling in at Dave’s booth this afternoon, so his cards were the only ones handy. Hell, honey, if I’d known you were so desperate to learn my true identity, I would have engraved my name on your heart.”
She shot him a frosty look. “I’m not desperate! I simply prefer honesty from the people with whom I have business dealings. You know, correct names and that sort of thing.” Not giving him a chance to respond, she gestured at her car. “So it’s fixed?”
“Yes, ma’am.” With a proud grin, he took her arm and led her toward the passenger side. “Hop in and I’ll drive you back to the dealership.”
Despite the jolt of awareness at his touch, Allison dug in her heels. “Hop in? Wait just a minute, cowboy. It’s bad enough you drove my car here without my permission. Now you want to drive it again?”
“And three hours ago you didn’t want to drive it at all.” He tugged her onward and opened her door. “Come on, Ms. Tracy, be nice. If I can drive us back, that’ll save me from having to find a cab at this hour.”
She frowned. “What happened to your work clothes?”
“Oh, I keep a clean change of clothes in the locker room, and often shower after work.”
“Ah, so you can go out and squander your meager salary at honky tonks?” Hurling the taunt, Allison was surprised to watch his jaw harden, and she took some satisfaction in the realization that she had gotten to him.
“You’re a smart-mouthed little snot, you know that?” he shot back. Then his countenance softened to a roguish grin. “But you’ve got my number, too. I’m a hellraiser, all right. Truth is, sometimes when I’m really hard up for cash before payday, the boss man’ll let me sleep on a cot out behind the service bay.”
Allison eyed him skeptically, not sure whether he was pulling her leg or not.
He nodded at the passenger seat. “So are you going to let me drive us back or what?”
Grudgingly Allison slipped inside. “Guess I do need to go back and pay the bill, which I’m sure will be as over-inflated as your ego.”
He shut her door, chuckling as he rounded the car. “You sure don’t cut a guy any slack, do you, sugar?”
“Don’t call me sugar.”
He slid into his seat. “Not that you necessarily deserve it, Ms. Tracy, but there’s no charge today.”
“What? You mean you didn’t fix my car?”
“No,” he replied patiently. “I mean I looked up your service records, and saw that you have been getting the runaround from us regarding your engine problems. Three visits so far, with no resolution. So I fixed your engine under the warranty, and threw in the oil and lube, even gassed her up and got her washed and waxed, as a courtesy.”
“A courtesy,” she repeated carefully. “And what do you expect in exchange for your generosity?”
Again, from the irritation sparking in his blue eyes, she guessed her barb had hit the target. “Perhaps a little civil conversation? Or maybe just your dropping me back at the dealership with my head still attached?”
Allison squirmed in the seat. He did have a point. He may not have cut her much slack, but she hadn’t cut him any at all. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“That’s better.” He flipped on the engine. “Now listen to this baby hum.”
She did, and was pleased by the smooth, powerful rumble she heard. “It’s ticking, but not nearly like before.”
He nodded. “The super lube should do the trick, that and the new ignition module I installed.”
“Ah. So you were right about—”
“Yeah, I was right.” He glanced at her solemnly. “I think in no time this little honey will be purring like a kitten. But if it’s still ticking at your next servicing, don’t worry, I’ll personally tear into your engine.”
As before, his words were loaded with innuendo, causing Allison to unconsciously lick her lips. Tear away, she was tempted to blurt out. “I can hardly wait,” she muttered.
He chuckled and pulled the car away from the curb.
As he eased them into the rush-hour traffic, Allison’s mind was spinning. Yes, he had bedeviled her with his urban cowboy spiel, but it had been awfully nice of him to deliver her car. The engine sounded much improved. Clearly he was hitting on her, but in truth she was far from an unwilling participant. And although he did wicked things to her with his eyes, his sexy banter, so far he’d made no improper physical advances.
Would it be such a crime to get to know him better, especially since they both must know this would never go beyond a romp?
“Hey, maybe you and I should start over,” she murmured.
“Really?” He appeared both shocked and pleased.
“Well, you must admit, that was a pretty crude come-on you gave me back at the dealership. ‘I love how they grow ’em in Texas.’”
“So you’re not from Texas?” he inquired innocently.
Allison didn’t know whether to be charmed or exasperated. “Stop dodging the question.”
“Then you are from Texas?”
She ground her teeth. “As it happens, I’m from—”
“Dallas, right, angel?”
Allison issued a short laugh. “How did you guess?”
He gave a shrug. “You strike me as one of those snooty, Big D girls.”
“Yeah, and you strike me as a hick from the sticks,” she shot back.
Undaunted, he continued. “Let’s see, I’m betting your parents live in Highland Park, that you made your debut at the Idlewild Ball, then went on to SMU.”
Allison felt all color leave her face. “Actually, it was the Tyler Rose Festival, but… How did you know all that?”
He eyed her cynically. “Honey, I know the type.”
“Ah. Mr. Experience speaks.”
“Yep.” His voice oozed a maddening self-confidence. “I could tell the minute I saw you that you were a Big D girl out on the untamed streets of Houston. And still wet behind your ears as far as our fair metropolis is concerned, aren’t you, darlin’?”
“Don’t call me darlin’.”
“Well?”
She sighed. Buckaroo Babe was proving to be a bit savvier than she’d anticipated. But then he must deal with a wealthy clientele at the dealership. Surely she was not the first former debutante he’d come on to….
Realizing he was patiently awaiting her reply, she cleared her throat. “Actually, I’ve only lived here six months. A job transfer. But two of my sorority sisters also live in Houston, and that helps a lot.”
“So you three gals have trendy lunches at the Galleria while you roast all the men in your lives?”
“How jaded you are.” But Allison blushed as she realized he’d again hit the nail on the head.
“I should take you out and show you some real Houston hospitality,” he continued with relish.
“You mean pit barbecue and line dancing? Even in Dallas we have that.” Feeling a bit guilty for her sharp retort, she added, “However, if you really have fixed my car, I think I’d be willing to buy you dinner.”
He swung a broad grin her way. “Are you trying to pick me up?”
“Are you trying to pick me up?”
He laughed, then gestured at the long line of cars stacked before them. “Tell you what. Looks like gridlock from here to the dealership. Let’s go for a drive on the prairie and test her out.”
Allison gasped in mingled shock and fascination. “Are you joking? Go for a drive with you? You’re a stranger. I don’t even know your full name.”
“Pete Chisholm, ma’am.”
“Pete Chisholm?” She rolled her eyes. “I should have known it. A perfect name for a retro throwback like you. In case you haven’t heard, ‘good old boys’ are a dying breed.”
“Bite your tongue, woman,” he scolded.
“Tell me, are you any relation of—”
“Jesse Chisholm of Chisholm Trail fame?”
“Yes.”
“Nope. None at all. And Jesse’s stomping ground was more Kansas and Oklahoma, as I, er, recollect, ma’am.”
She groaned at his deliberately exaggerated drawl. “Sounds as if you personally knew him.”
“You think I’m that much of a relic?” Leaning toward her, he took her hand and just brushed her fingertips against the leather-sheathed gearshift, in a highly suggestive gesture. Voice going low and sexy, he asked, “Why don’t I show you what this classic chassis can do?”
Allison recoiled as if burned. His touching her hand had been totally unexpected, his trailing her fingers over the gearshift blatantly erotic, dissolving her senses in a hot puddle. By all rights, she knew she should smack him silly and toss his butt out in the streets. The problem was, she was already hooked, and she loved what his audacious words and wicked touch were doing to her.
Nonetheless, she managed to hurl him her sternest look. “Okay, we’ll take a little drive. But make another pass like that one, and I’ll shoot you out of the saddle, Tex.”
He only chuckled, grabbed a CD from her millennium collection and inserted it in the drive. Steppenwolf wailed at them to get their motor running.
Allison’s engine was already in overdrive….
4
“YOU’RE GOING to get us a ticket!” Allison protested.
“If I do, I’ll pay for it,” Pete calmly replied.
They were literally bolting down the tollway toward Highway 290, Steppenwolf screaming in their ears. Allison judged Pete was driving at least eighty-five as he whipped through the rush-hour traffic. Her engine throbbed, roared with energy. Allison had no idea her sedate little sedan was capable of behaving like an Indy 500 racer, any more than she’d known that a sexy urban cowboy could make her own motor thrum this way….
But then, look who was behind the wheel. Sexual power seemed to radiate from Pete as he drove. Allison could see it in the intensity of his expression, the tautness of his muscled body, the strength and purpose of his large hands on the wheel, the gleam of pure animal pleasure in his eyes. He was as revved up as the car.
Oh, to have all that raw lust for life directed toward her!
