Mustang Sassy (18 page)

Why the hell was she crying? “Sass?”

“Go back to sleep.” Her voice was too low, too husky.

Jordan wanted to get up, grab this insane woman, and pull her back to bed, but something told him that wouldn’t be a good idea. Sass Hogan was the poster girl for reverse psychology. Forcing her to stay wouldn’t help his cause. She’d just make sure to avoid him, out of spite, or whatever-the-hell-it-was that was eating her. Each time he’d let her go it was Sass who came back. But, dammit! It was starting to get old.

The door slammed and, moments later, Jordan heard the sound of the old truck coughing to life. He punched the pillow, which was still warm with her scent. Then he punched it again.

“Jesus, Carlyle,” he muttered to the ceiling, covering his face with his hand.

How the hell did he already feel so much for this slip of a woman? She haunted his every waking moment. The cabin’s walls whispered stories about her. His fingers itched, needing to create her likeness. He had nearly a whole sketchbook filled with images of her. Thank God she hadn’t found that one, otherwise she’d have thought he was some creepy stalker.

Jordan sighed, kicking the tangled blankets away from his legs, needing the cold air to cool him down.

I’ve grown up at Hogan’s. I’m going to run it when Buck retires.

In the process of pursuing his dream he was going to crush Sass’s. He’d told himself she wouldn’t be sad to see Carlos leave, that’d he actually be doing her a favor by stealing him. Stupid. That was just to pacify his guilt. He was going to hurt her, it was unavoidable and the idea of hurting Sass turned his gut to acid.

Why couldn’t they both get what they wanted? There had to be a way.

The question was, what did Sass want? Did she feel the same way about him that he felt about her?

Jordan replayed all their crazy hookups over in his mind. It was always Sass who bailed, who’d made it abundantly clear all she wanted from Jordan was sex. So where did that leave him?

Screwed.

He lay there mulling over his non-relationship with Sass Hogan. As far as he could figure it, he had a choice. He could tell her about his lies and hope that she’d give him a chance to prove to her how much he cared about her. Then he could spend the next week or two—however long it took to finish the car—to win her heart. But then what? Ask her to go back to Denver with him? No way. Sass’s home was here.

That left him with the other option. He’d just avoid her, like he’d been trying to do all along. Once the car was done, he’d pick it up, pay his bill, steal Carlos, show his family he wasn’t a failure and never think about Sass Hogan again.

Sure. Like that was even possible.

…

It was probably a good thing the truck didn’t do more than about sixty-five; otherwise Sass would have been fishtailing all over the loose gravel. But she didn’t care. She just wished the waterworks would turn off. Stupid tears. That’s what she got for getting all soft and mushy with City-boy. Tears! What a joke.

The whole drive home, Sass swiped at the moisture on her face and replayed the evening over in her mind. What had possessed her to fall asleep with him? She must have been really tired to do that. Pulling the truck up around the back of the house, Sass took a moment to sit in the dark. Yes, she’d put long hours in on his car. Then there was the sex. Usually sex for her lasted about ten minutes. This slow-dance sex with Jordan went on for hours. It was exhausting. Well, never again. Sass Hogan didn’t do sleepovers for a reason. Sex was supposed to be the most intimate thing and it was. But to Sass, sleeping together was…well, it was even more intimate.

The last thing she needed to do was get intimate with City-boy. He was leaving. End of story.

Sass climbed out of the truck and went in the back door, through the kitchen. In the dark room, the first thing she saw was the red blinking light of the answering machine. She pressed the playback button, then grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water.

“Hey, kid. Sorry I missed…I’m…I know it’s…but I think you’ll…” Stupid tape! “…I hope you’ll be…and I can’t wait….then, there’s the shop…It’s a lot to think about…details…so give me a call when you…5…4…7…6…” More incoherent syllables. “…I’ll be home…we’ll talk then.”

Sass tried to replay the message, hoping she’d be able to pick out more of her father’s words the next time through. But, no luck. She downed her water and poured some more as she listened to the garbled message again. By his tone she was pretty sure he wasn’t sick. So, what was it? Buck was one of those strong, silent types who only spoke in his deep monotone when necessary. But these last couple of messages sounded very un-Buck-like. Was he excited? No. Nervous? Not really. Sass couldn’t put her finger on it, but it bothered her.

With her glass of water in hand, and a vow to buy a new answering machine in the morning, Sass walked through the dark house to her bedroom. She should try to get a few more hours of sleep. She wanted to start the new paint job in the morning, and it would require a sharp mind and steady hand. But as she lay there, Sass realized that sleep would not be on the program. Her mind was preoccupied with images of Jordan and the girl in those damned pictures of his. But the girl wasn’t real and as much as Sass had pretended tonight, that girl wasn’t her. There was no way Jordan wanted any of that permanent stuff with her.

Why the hell had she imagined such an impossible scenario with the
one
guy who would most definitely leave? Entertaining those kinds of thoughts would only end in heartache because a future with Jordan Michaels was never going to happen.

…

Tuesday was a disaster. Everything went wrong. The spray gun got clogged on her test spray, making a mess. Once the new windshield was delivered and unpacked, she discovered a flaw in the glass. And the hydraulic control of the jack stand in the hotbox, where she needed to lift the car to paint it, got stuck. After a thorough cleaning, a tempered call to the glass provider and some of Manny’s mechanical servicing, everything was set right and Sass was able to finish the paint job on the Fastback by Wednesday afternoon.

Once it was completely dry, she’d color-sand it and then buff it to a gloss. It would take another day or two. After that, all she needed to finish the job was the grille and hubcaps and to sign her work of art. Then the car would be ready to roll and Jordan would be gone, out of her life, forever.

“You heard from Buck lately?”

Sass jumped, not hearing Al come into the hotbox where she stood staring at the newly painted car. Sass glanced up at Al and forced a smile. “He left a message, but I couldn’t make it out.”

“Oh.” Al was unusually quiet. Probably because he was busy taking in the car. “You’ve done a stellar job, Sass-a-frass.”

Sass should have felt pleased. After all the hours she’d spent on it, she had to admit she’d done a good job. In the end, once she finished buffing the new paint job and all the new parts were installed, the car would be perfect, in fact, better than when City-boy had driven into town. Fleetingly, Sass wondered if Jordan would even notice the improvements she’d made.

Sass cringed, forcing thoughts of Jordan far, far away. Keeping busy had been a pretty good antidote to thinking of him. Except that it was his car she worked on and every time she laid her hand lovingly against the steel, she thought of him: drawing her, touching her, kissing her, laughing with her…she squeezed her eyes shut and rolled her shoulders. She felt weird. Achy. Broody. Out of sorts.

By Wednesday afternoon Sass was feeling so restless she decided to drive out to the cabin to give City-boy an update on the car. She only wanted to see him so that she could stop thinking about him. Also, maybe he’d let her have another go at the punching bag. That seemed to help last time.

But that was all she wanted. She would
not
let him talk her into staying. No more meals, no more posing for pictures. No more sex. No way, no how. She’d just pop in and be friendly and take a swing or two at the speed bag. But her clothes were staying on this time. Definitely on. Then maybe she’d go visit Millie.

But when she turned the ’Vette into the gravel driveway to the cabin, Sass’s heart was so fired up she thought she might puke. Just as she shut the door she caught a glimpse of Jordan rounding the cabin, rubbing damp hair like he just stepped out of the shower. Her knees wobbled, and she had to hold on to the car for support.

“Hey, Sass,” he said, all the while seeming to keep his distance.

“Jordan.”

“What are you doing here?”

“No service, remember? I can’t call and I thought you’d want an update on the car.”

He watched her for a moment before answering. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” she answered defensively. “Why else would I be here?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Sheesh! He stood there so cool and smug Sass wanted to smack him. Suddenly she remembered the punching bag. “Well,” she said with a hand on her hip, “I was hoping to use your bag again. I mean your punching bag. That speed bag thing.”

His expression said he didn’t believe her. What? Did he think she’d come all this way to jump him or something? Jerk!

“Be my guest,” he finally said, motioning to the path around the side of the cabin.

The weird thing was, Sass’s feet didn’t want to move. It was like she was tethered to the car. Like some umbilical cord held her in place and the moment she severed it, all hell would break lose.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

Jordan took a couple of steps toward her and Sass found herself unable to tear her gaze away from his broad chest. All the while her hands searched blindly behind her for the door handle. City-boy was right in front of her, towering over her. His expression was just as cool and smug as she’d imagined and her heart clambered up her throat at the nearness of him.

“Did you want to come inside?

“No.”

He cocked his head to one side.

Sass couldn’t take the pressure any longer. All the restlessness of the past few days made her temporarily lose her mind and blurt out all the stuff she was trying to pretend wasn’t going on in her head. “I’m not sleeping with you again, Michaels, if that’s what you think.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?”

“Yeah. Why not?” He took a step closer, if that was even possible.

“Because…”

“Didn’t you like it?” he whispered.

Sass gasped, barely able to breathe with him so close. “Yea…well…” she sputtered.

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m not—”

“You’re not the dating kind. Yeah, I know,” he interrupted her. “But who said anything about dating? We’re two consenting adults who have a few things in common. We have fun together and we’re attracted to each other.” He lifted Sass’s chin so that she had to look at him. “Why can’t we keep having fun?”

She opened her mouth to reply but Jordan’s lips were suddenly so close, she could feel his breath across her face. Gently he touched his lips to hers and said, “Just until the car’s done. Then we’ll go our separate ways.” He kissed her slowly and thoroughly and then backed up to gauge her response. “What do you say?”

Chapter Fourteen

How the hell did he do it? The man had a way of bringing her tattoo to life so that flames licked up her spine and curled around her tummy and chest. It was his hungry gaze raking over her. It was that freshly laundered smell of him, so close, his big hands resting on her hips, so intimate. With all this closeness, her decision-making abilities were seriously impaired.

“One rule, no sleepovers.”

“Okay,” he whispered as he inched his hands up under her shirt.

She groaned and leaned into his large, calloused hands. “And, no one at the shop can know.”

He kissed her while his hands worked their magic beneath her shirt. Then he nuzzled her ear and whispered, “That’s two rules.”

“I mean it, Michaels.”

“Fine. No one knows.” His hand slid down her belly and he deftly undid the button on her jeans with one hand. She returned the favor, though her hands were shaking so bad she had to use two hands to undo his fly.

Just as he maneuvered his hand down into her panties, she slipped her hand down his jeans and squeezed the solid ridge of him.

“No more drawings.” She panted in between kisses.

“But…”

She withdrew her hand and moved an inch away so that she could look at him. His face appeared fuzzy through her lust-filled gaze, but she had to make her point. “I won’t pose anymore and you can’t draw any pictures of me. Even in secret. Especially in secret.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. No portraits.” He pulled off his shirt and grinned that lopsided grin of his.

Sass melted. Then, in one swift movement he had her shirt off.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m going to take you right here, right now, on the hood of this car.”

Holy hell! It was all her wildest fantasies come true. Who needed Harvey, the Silver Bullet, or Madame Butterfly when she had her living, breathing sex toy right here? Sass could find no logical reason for fighting this anymore.

He turned her so her hands were on the hood of the car, and she nearly cried out as he tugged her jeans down over her hips. She groaned in ecstasy as he splayed his hands down her back and then lightly traced the swirling flames of her tattoo. At the sound of foil tearing between teeth and the feel of Jordan as he nudged up behind her, she quivered with pre-orgasm excitement. Raising her hips, she ground her pelvis back against him, but he didn’t enter her, not right away. Instead he held her tight around the hips and leaned down and kissed the small of her back. With his right hand up her front, he squeezed her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

“Shit, Sass, I should have been a tattoo artist.”

Sass’s chuckle turned into a groan of bliss as he pushed himself inside of her.

…

Sitting in Sass’s car an hour later, Jordan reflected on how much had changed since the first time he’d ridden beside Sass in her Corvette coupe. Never had he imagined things would turn out as they were and he wasn’t exactly sure he was happy about that.