He checked his hand as if worried it might have a smear of grease on it, then wrapped his fingers around hers. She ignored the rush of heat that crawled up her arm—don’t think about the sex analogy he made earlier—and focused on the fact that his handshake was firm, strong, and lasted the perfect length of time.
“Nice to meet you, Josh.”
“Same to you, Ms. Fischer.”
“Monica.”
“Mmm. So, you’re returning to the family business after…?”
“I just graduated from college.”
“Ah.” He dropped her hand like a hot potato.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“I think it was something. Is it my age? You think I’m not old enough to hack it here? We have drivers who are younger than me!”
“It’s not—” He growled with an exasperated sigh. “You’re what, twenty? Twenty-one?”
“I just turned twenty-one.”
“Happy birthday, Miss Fischer.” She didn’t miss the pivot from Ms. to Miss. However old this guy was, it was old enough that twenty-one was too young to be taken seriously. “Here’s your first lesson about racing. The pit crew does not fraternize with the boss’s daughter.”
She blew a raspberry. “That’s a stupid rule. And I’m not looking for fraternization. Just a little help with getting up to speed.”
“I’m not the guy for that.”
“I think you are.”
“You’re wrong.”
“What are the other rules, then? Tell me that much.”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m not going to be your racing tutor.”
“Why not?”
“Because everything I tell you will only trigger more questions.”
“That makes me an eager student.”
“That makes you…” He stopped, turned around, and dragged his gaze down her body. And in all the ways his handshake had made her feel like an equal, if only for a brief moment, this heated glance made her feel like an object. “A very dangerous liability.”
She’d bet money that was intentional. “A sexy liability?”
He laughed. “Oh yeah, Miss Fischer. You are absolutely sexy. And you know it, too. Now run along.”
“I’m not a little girl you can boss around.”
He leaned in close. “I promise you, the only people I want to boss around are pit crew trainees and mature, willing women. Do we understand each other?”
She had never felt more mature or willing than at this moment. Damn shame that was one-sided. “We certainly do. You don’t want to fuck me.” She liked the way his eyes blazed in surprise. She grew up on race tracks. Sure, she may have left them behind six years ago for a Swiss boarding school, but the salty language was baked into her soul. She leaned in. She wasn’t going to be scared off. “But you’re willing to make me think you want to scare me off, because you’re afraid of getting in trouble for helping me. Except I need you to help me, because I’m quite certain that you are the only person on this entire campus who sees me as a fully formed human being with the potential to learn this business from the ground up.”
He blinked.
Blinked hard. “I’m not afraid of getting in trouble.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
He dropped his gaze to her mouth. His eyes turned steely. “Nothing.”
“Good.” She pressed her lips into a flat line. “Then what’s my next lesson?”
“I don’t have time for this. I have to—” He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Jesus, it’s late. I need to clock out.”
“Can we resume this tomorrow?”
“No, I’m not working tomorrow.”
“So, Monday?”
“Not Monday, either. I’m working then.”
“But this is work.”
“This would be extracurricular self-guided study. Nobody on this campus is paid to give you lessons about racing.”
“Would you prefer I pay you directly, then? Let’s call it a lucrative side hustle for you.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation.”
“Because of what people will think.”
“Sure. That.”
She nodded. “All the more reason to do it off-campus. What are you doing tonight after you clock out?”
“I’m—” He took a long, slow breath. It filled his chest, making him look forbidding, older and bigger and sterner than before.
She shouldn’t find that as attractive as she did, but if there was something Monica Fischer excelled at, it was getting attention from older men who wanted nothing to do with her.
He gave her a pained look. “You want to learn about racing from the ground up?”
“I do.”
“What’s your most prized possession in this world?”
Her autonomy was probably the wrong answer. “I have a vintage couture—”
He rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Just swear on your right kidney that you’ll never tell your father about what I show you tonight.”
4
“Is Springsteen all right?”
“Sure.”
And that was the extent of their conversation for the first half of the drive into L.A.
Having a twenty-one-year-old socialite as his passenger was an unforced error. Why had he opened his big mouth?
Josh blamed the fact that other people who worked at Fischer Racing were dicks to her. He couldn’t abide by that. Just because she was the owner’s daughter didn’t mean that she couldn’t pull her own weight…eventually.
And the way she stood toe-to-toe with him as he tried to brush her off? Maybe not even eventually. Maybe she might surprise people. But they would either need to give her a chance, or she would have to break them down and take the chance she deserved.
After working for the company for six years, he was pretty sure the latter was more likely. Fischer Racing was not a warm and fuzzy work environment.
As traffic slowed down, he shot a glance sideways at her. She looked rich, for lack of a better description. Slim and yet well-fed, with very good skin and even better hair. Pretty, he had to admit, if one liked them young and saucy, which he didn’t.
He had nine years on her, and she probably had ten million dollars on him just because of how trust funds worked. They had nothing in common. Not even if she really liked the growl of his engine and hadn’t blinked at his custom five-point harness seat belts.
Earlier, she’d surprised him by calling him on his weak attempt to intimidate her. He’d leered at her tight jeans and silky top, letting her think he was picturing her naked. Now he had to scrub that from his memories, because he’d saddled himself with a student for the night.
He couldn’t actually guess what she looked like naked, anyway. She was so far out of his league, it wasn’t funny. Did rich girls look like porn stars, waxed and sculpted to perfection?
Josh usually went for down-to-earth bed partners, who didn’t mind a bit of grease (although he always scrubbed his hands, because he very much did like to get his fingers wet), and who knew his heart and soul were in the engine of a car. He wasn’t one for splitting his attention for more than a few hours.