Joy Ride(5)
Let me revise my assessment. A sexy chip on a fuck-hot shoulder. “Glad to know you’re finally giving me credit for something.”
She rolls her eyes. “I gave you all the credit, and you gave me nada.” She curls her thumb and forefinger into an O. “Zilch. Zero.”
“Don’t forget ‘goose-egg.’ Wouldn’t want you to leave out another way to describe how I robbed you of all opportunity.”
She purses her lips and shakes her head. “I don’t know why I came over here to talk to you.”
“That’s a fascinating question. One I’d love to know the answer to.”
“I don’t know. Call me crazy. But I thought maybe we could have a civilized chat.”
I laugh sharply. “You did? That’s why you inserted yourself into a conversation with a potential client with your tiger comment?”
“It was supposed to be funny.” For once, her tone sounds hurt, as if I’ve wounded her. “You used to tease me when I got all worked up about something. You called me ‘tiger.’”
The memory smashes back into me—the first instance I called her that. She was pissed at herself over a struggle with a transmission tunnel that nicked her left hand, and I’d said, “Easy, tiger,” before I moved in and helped her, showing her how to do it without slicing her finger off. She thanked me in the sweetest voice, and then I put a Band-Aid on the cut.
I say nothing, maybe because I’m still lingering on the way she whispered her thank you that day five years ago.
Right now, though? She shrugs in an I-give-up gesture. “See you later, Max.”
This woman was the most fiery, spirited person I’ve ever worked with, but I can’t let her get under my skin, or make me want to put Band-Aids on her when she can damn well do it herself. I need a new approach, especially if we’re running in the same circles.
She turns to go, but I grab her arm. “Wait.” My voice is gentler now. “Tell me what you’re up to these days.”
“Building cars.”
“I figured that much from what you said. What’s your specialty?”
The corner of her lips curves up in a smile as she moves closer—so damn close I can smell her sweet breath, and I’m half wondering how she smells so good at four in the afternoon, like cinnamon candy. But then, that was one of her many talents. Smelling good, looking good, working hard. “The kind of car I would have made with you if you’d have let me,” she says and steps one inch closer. So close I could kiss her cinnamon lips. “They’re called . . . the best.”
She spins on a heel and walks away.
I should call out after her. I should try harder to smooth over the past. But I’m better off letting her go. She’s far too dangerous, even though a part of me likes playing with fire.
That part of me needs to stay the fuck away from a woman like her.
3
“Smell this.”
My sister, Mia, slides a vial under my nose.
I’m transported from the kitchen counter in my penthouse apartment in Battery Park to a tropical island. “Pineapple with a hint of coconut.”
“And what else?”
My eyes are closed. She wanted me to wear a blindfold, but that’s not going to happen. Ever. I sniff one more time. “Mango.”
The vial clinks as it hits the counter, and she claps. “You still officially have the best nose in the history of noses.”
I open my eyes. “Do I get a gold star for my olfactory system?”
She smiles brightly, her straight, white teeth gleaming. “You win the prize for being one of the two most amazing brothers I have.”
“Wow. That’s quite an honor, seeing as you only have two brothers.”
“And they’re both adorable,” she says with a glint in her hazel eyes.
I glare at her. “I’m not cute.”
She winks. “You’ll always be cute to me.”
I growl. “You’re lucky I don’t put you in a chokehold like I’d do to Chase.”
Mia leans her blond head back and laughs. “You couldn’t keep me in a chokehold. I’d slip out because I’m fast and nimble. Besides, you like me too much.”
She’s right. How could I not? She’s the baby of the family, and she’s also literally the most adorable person on earth. She’s the size of a gymnast, and she packs the same punch pound for pound. Probably because she was a gymnast growing up. She twisted her body into some serious pretzel shapes on the balance beam and floor when she was in grade school and junior high, earning medals in all sorts of competitions. Now she’s twenty-seven and an entrepreneur. She’s staying with me for the week while she’s in town for meetings, trying to land some new distribution deals for her line of cruelty-free beauty supplies.