Her sharp hiss of outraged breath was music to his ears. He checked the battery, which was fine. Electrical system was operational. Everything was fine, with the exception of one loose wire that Blair had obviously jerked out to make sure the car wouldn’t start. And it wasn’t an easy wire to see. He’d gotten lucky finding it.
Smart girl. The question was, why? Though it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.
He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Go start it up.”
“You get it fixed?”
That was not a hopeful expression on her face. “Not sure. Give it a try.”
She slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine. Of course he hadn’t bothered to slip the wire back into place, so the engine didn’t turn over. He could have sworn he saw a triumphant smirk on her face. “Nothing’s happening.”
“Hmmm,” she said, managing to sound irritated and disappointed.
He leaned over the engine again, jimmying a couple of the wires for effect. A few more seconds, and he’d give her the bad news, then take over. She’d started this game. He planned to take every advantage of it. Because as far as he was concerned, Blair had thrown down the gauntlet. She had come to him. Maybe not exactly in the way he’d wanted, but when had Blair ever done anything the conventional way?
“I don’t know what the problem is. Let me hook it up to my Jeep and tow it onto my property. I can take a look at it there.”
“Oh, you can call me a tow truck. I’ll just wait here,” she said, slipping out of the car to look at him over the roof.
“Won’t work. Head-on accident out on I-34. Both wreckers are on scene.”
“Well damn.” She chewed her bottom lip.
“You got a date?”
Her lips curled. “Honey, I’ve always got a date.”
Yeah, right. “Get in the Jeep, Blair. You’re wilting out in this heat. Start it up and back it in front of your car.”
“Fine.” She grabbed her purse and sauntered over to the Jeep, doing an expert job of backing it up perfectly in line with her Mercedes. In short order he had the tow line set, then slid into the driver’s seat of the Jeep and drove onto the entrance of his land.
Blair stayed mute throughout the five-minute drive down the dirt road. Rand took the opportunity to ogle her barely concealed body. She’d dressed to kill in that outfit. And she was damn near killing him. Midriff-baring tight little shirt that showed off her gorgeous tits and that scandalously short skirt that barely covered her ass, revealing her long legs.
She made his dick twitch. And her appearance outside the gate of his property had been as intentional as the clothes she wore. Good thing the drive was short, because his dick was getting longer with every passing second.
And her scent permeated the cab of the Jeep. Nothing flowery or perfumy, either. No, Blair was much more subtle than that. She let her natural fragrance do the talking for her. Soap, shampoo, and the smell of a nice clean woman was all it took to drive him up the wall.
By the time he took the circular curve and parked in front of the ranch house, he was primed and ready, his dick twitching like a divining rod that had just found the mother lode of water.
Rascal, his collie, came bounding toward them from the back of the house, barking and wagging his tail.
He judged a lot of women by how they treated his dog. Rascal wasn’t what you’d call a good-looking dog. Part sheepdog and Lord only knew what else, he was mostly a mess of dirt and tangled, matted hair with a long tongue just made for copious amounts of slobber.
Most women wouldn’t even get out of the car ’til he shooed Rascal away. Not Blair, though. She opened the door and greeted Rascal with an enthusiastic squeal, petting him and scratching his ears. Soon she was bent down and lavishing attention all over the mangy beast, cooing and making baby sounds. And Rascal was loving every second of it.
Well, she’d passed that test. He shook his head. “Come on inside before he gets his dirty paws all over your white top.”
Blair grinned at Rascal, stood, and patted the dog’s head. Rascal stepped up right beside Blair and kept up with her as they headed toward the house. “Oh, I don’t mind. I love dogs.”
Rascal bounded up the steps ahead of them, shooting through the door as soon as Rand opened it. “We won’t see him the rest of the night. He’ll plop down on one of my air conditioner vents and pass out.”
Blair snorted. “Can’t blame him. It’s damn hot out there.”
“He hangs out in the barn all day where’s it cool and shady. Don’t let his sad look fool you.” Rand realized he’d never had Blair in his house before. Hell, he rarely brought women here. Home was his refuge, his place to get away from everything and everyone. To bring a woman in here would be an invasion of his personal space, his privacy. It was a rare occurrence.
Blair, however, was different. He wanted her here, had wanted her here for years. The fact that she showed up on the edge of his property meant something to him. A first step. He’d waited a long time for this.
“You gonna fix my car?” she asked, skimming her fingertips over the polished surface of his grandma’s antique end table.
“Too hot outside right now. Thought we’d relax a bit, have a beer or two, and talk. Wait for it to cool down outside.”
She pulled her sunglasses off and tucked them in her purse, then laid the bag on the table and slipped into the kitchen to wash the dog goobers off her hands. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“You always have a choice, Blair.” He wasn’t going to let her take the easy way out. If what was going to happen was what he thought was going to happen, then it was going to be her conscious decision. It didn’t work any other way.
“Not always.” After she dried her hands, she wandered through his living room as if she were taking inventory. Okay, so he was a bachelor, and it wasn’t pretty. A few hand-me-down antique pieces here and there, but otherwise completely threadbare. He kept meaning to do something about that, but frankly, who cared? He never had before. She turned to face him. “How about that beer?”
He grabbed two bottles from the fridge, returning and handing her one.
“Sit down.”
She chose the single recliner. Figured. Safer that way. God forbid she should park on the sofa. He might actually sit next to her.
“I’m sorry about your granddad,” she said, and from the tone of her voice, he knew she meant it. His grandfather had passed on a month ago, though he’d been in a nursing home for two years. The last of his relatives were gone now. All that was left of his family was this house.
“Thanks.”
He had to give her this: she was calm. Or a damn good actress. The tension between them, as it had always been, sizzled the air between them. There was a combustible quality about their altercations. Even the simplest conversation tended to turn down a stormy road, sexual tension crackling between them.
Even now, without her having to say a thing, her body language told him everything she didn’t want him to know. Her back held ramrod straight as if the slightest shift in posture would reveal too much of what she was feeling. Her breasts rising with each sharp intake of breath—oh yeah—that meant she was well aware there was a man in the room. And he was sure as hell aware of her. Every, lick-able inch of her. The way her red hair caught and held the light as it streamed in through the half-opened shutters, surrounding her face like a fiery halo. Her skin, tan and glistening with some kind of body lotion that made it sparkle and smelled like pure, springtime rain. Mixed within all that was the unmistakable musky scent of a woman primed for sex.