Bed of Roses (Bride Quartet #2)(38)

       
         
       
        

Parker leaned back as the printer clicked into life. "There you go."

"Click this, click that. I can never remember which click comes first." But she looked over the counter and smiled for the first time. Her eyes were as bold and engaging a green as the frames of her cheaters. "Appreciate it."

"No problem."

Parker took the bill, sighed a little as she ran down the work. New battery, tune-up, timing, oil change, fan belts, tire rotation, brake pads. "I don't see the charge for the detailing."

"No charge. First-time customer. Complimentary."

"Very nice." Parker paid the bill, then tucked her copy in a pocket of her bag. She took the key. "Thank you."

"Welcome. Come back when you need to."

"I believe I will."

Outside, she walked toward Emma's car, clicking the key lock as she went.

"Hey, hey, hold it."

She stopped, turned. She recognized the legs, hips, torso she'd seen under the belly of the car in the garage. This view added chest and shoulders. The light spring breeze fluttered through dark hair-that needed a trim-disordered either from work or carelessness. She supposed it suited the strong, sharp lines of his face, and the dark stubble that indicated he hadn't picked up a razor in a day or two.

She took it all in quickly, just as she took in the hard set of his mouth and the hot green of eyes that transmitted temper.

She'd have looked down her nose if she hadn't been forced to look up when he stopped in front of her. She angled her head up, met his eyes with hers, and said in her coolest tone, "Yes?"

"You think all it takes is a key and a driver's license?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your battery cables were covered with corrosion, your oil was sludge. Your tires were low and your brake pads damn near shot. I bet you slather yourself with some fancy cream every day of your life."

"Excuse me?"

"But you can't bother to get your car serviced. Lady, this car was a disgrace. You probably spent more on those shoes than you have on maintaining it."

Her shoes? Her shoes were none of his damn business. But she kept her tone bland-insultingly bland. "I appreciate that you have passion for your work, but I doubt your boss would approve of the way you speak to customers."

"I am the boss, and I'm fine with it."

"I see. Well, Mr. Kavanaugh, you have an interesting business manner. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"There's no excuse for the way you've neglected this vehicle. I've got it up and running for you, Ms. Grant, but-" 

"Brown," she interrupted. "That's Ms. Brown."

He narrowed his eyes as he studied her face. "Del's sister. Should've seen it. Who's Emmaline Grant?"

"My business partner."

"Fine. Pass on what I said to her. It's a good car. It deserves better."

"Be sure I will."

She reached for the door, but he beat her to it, opened it for her. She got in, placed her bag on the seat beside her, fastened her seat belt. Then froze the air between them with a "Thank you."

He grinned, fast as a lightning strike. "You mean go to hell. Drive safe," he added and shut the door.

She turned the key, found herself mildly disappointed when the engine purred like a kitten. As she drove away, she glanced in the rearview mirror, saw him standing, hip-shot, watching her.

Rude, she thought-absurdly rude, really. But he apparently knew how to do his job.

When she parked near the bridal boutique where she intended to meet her client, Parker pulled out her BlackBerry to e-mail Emma.

Em. Car is done. Looks and runs better than it has since you bought it. You owe me more than the bill. Will discuss tonight. P





AT HOME, EMMA USED THE TIME BETWEEN APPOINTMENTS TO write itemized contracts. She loved the choices made by her last client, a December bride. Color, color, and more color, she thought. All that hot and bold would be a pleasure to work with in winter.

She sent the contract to the client for approval, copied Parker for Vows' files. She smiled when she spotted an e-mail from Jack. Then snorted out a laugh as she read it.

"Trench coat and elbow pads. Good one. Let's see . . ."

You'll need to choose between my red lace elbow pads and the black velvet set. Or I can just surprise you. I'll try them on later with my collection of trench coats. I have a particular favorite. It's black and has a shine so it always looks . . . wet.

Unfortunately tonight won't work for me. But that gives us both more time to think.

"That ought to give you a moment or two," Emma murmured, and hit Send.