“Wouldn’t you like to know?” My neck was abruptly hot.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve been thinking on my trouser department, haven’t you?”
Flustered, I shook my head. “Getting back to the topic at hand—”
“Is it? At hand? I wasn’t aware.”
“Duane Winston!” I tried to sound shocked and foreboding, but my involuntary answering smile was ruining the effect. “I’m attempting to be serious. Stop trying to muddle me.”
“If I were trying to muddle you, then you’d know it.”
I tsked, then huffed. “When'd you get so sassy?”
“When'd you get so serious?”
“I’m not! I just can’t accept this car.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Same thing.”
“Nope. Not the same.” He plucked my hand from where it rested on my lap and held it in both of his, sending a warm, delightful sensation of loveliness up my arm and around my brain. “Jessica James, you’re going to have to get used to me wanting to take care of you and fix your troubles.”
“I’m not a damsel. I don’t need rescuing.”
“I know. You’re capable and stubborn, and I like that about you a whole lot. But maybe you could pretend to be a little less capable from time to time?”
“To what end?”
“So I get to feel good about rescuing you.”
I smirked at this logic. His request actually reminded me of my mom and dad. Sometimes my mother would pretend she couldn’t open a jar in the kitchen or that she needed help lifting something heavy. When I’d called her on it, she’d said, “Nothing wrong with making your man feel needed. If your Aunt Louisa had done the same then she wouldn’t be so lonely in that big house of hers.”
“Let me help,” he implored. “Use this car.”
“I don’t want to take advantage.”
All trace of his earlier smile had vanished and he appeared to be completely sincere. “You won’t be. It’ll settle my mind, knowing you’re driving something I built.”
I sighed, considering him and his request. “So, it would be a loaner?”
“Sure.” He shrugged noncommittally. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“And what do you expect in return?”
“Pardon me?” he asked, looking confused tinged with horrified. “I don’t want anything.”
I narrowed my eyes further and teased, “Tell me, Oprah, what are you after? Penis strokes? More frigid skinny-dipping? What?”
Catching on, Duane’s eyes lowered to my mouth; his held just a hint of a smile as he responded, “I’ll take a rain check on the stroking and skinny-dipping, but how about a kiss?”
I’d already wanted to kiss him.
So I did.
I grabbed a fistful of his gray thermal and tugged, bringing his lips to mine suddenly, and I kissed him.
BAM!
Infuriatingly, he didn’t seem at all surprised. He quickly took control, one hand fisting in my hair, angling my head as he liked, the other digging into my hip as he pulled me closer. He licked my lips and surged forward, giving the impression of requesting entrance without actually waiting for my consent.
It didn’t matter. My pleasure moan gave me away, a sound of surrender. His hot mouth moved over mine, the sweep of his tongue sending a thrill straight down my spine, making me feel frenzied and cherished all at once.
But then the whoop whoop of a police car scared the bejeebus out of me, and I jumped away. Duane released me as I spun toward the sound, my heart in my throat.
“What the hell is going on here?” I found my brother Jackson barking and glaring at us. He’d pulled his cruiser parallel to the Mustang and rolled down his window.
I sighed, closing my eyes, and letting my head fall back on the head rest. I swallowed before I reprimanded my brother. “Jackson! You scared me half to death.”
“I repeat, what the hell is going on here?” Jackson didn’t sound repentant, he sounded irate.
I shook my head without opening my eyes, couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from my chest. “What does it look like?”
“Jessica…” he warned, his voice rough.
I opened my eyes and grinned at my older brother, pressing the clutch and shifting the beautiful car into first gear. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thoroughly enjoying his shocked expression.
My brother’s eyes narrowed in warning. “Don’t you dare. Have you lost your mind?”
“No, I haven’t lost my mind. I’ve found a car, and look! It has a Duane in it. Now if you’ll excuse me, my Duane and I really must be going.”
And with that, I pulled out of the space Duane had backed into, and turned the car in the opposite direction of home.
***