Ballet Shoes and Engine Grease (27 page)

“
You answered the wrong question.” Nick
wrapped one arm around her waist, riveting her to his side, like
guard in charge of a prisoner. Not offering her any explanation, he
marched her out, through the double doors, into the lobby between
the cafeteria and the factory.

On the other side of the second set of
double doors, t
hey could
hear Hank conducting a tour in the factory. Crimson watched Nick,
saw his eyes dart about as he surveyed the space, seeking somewhere
private. His gaze homed in on the pair of restroom doors. With so
few women mechanics, both facilities were unisex. With hurried,
impatient gestures, he pulled one of the doors open and bundled her
inside.

She
came to rest against the vanity, her hands braced on the
edge of the countertop. Keeping her back turned, refusing to look
at him, even refusing to look at his reflection in the mirror, she
spoke tartly. “I don’t have time for this, Nick. Not
today.”

“
Yes,” he replied. “Today. Because by
tonight we’ll know.”

Crimson didn’
t reply. She knew what he meant. Tonight, when the
auction ended, they would know if she had been able to secure the
company for him. If she had succeeded beyond all expectations. If
she could face him as an equal. Or, if the only options left for
her were to walk away from him in failure, or to marry him, and
then, for the rest of her life, she would have to wonder if he
cared for her at all, or if she’d just been a means to an
end.

Nick tugged at her long ponytail.
“Turn around and look at
me.”

“
No,” Crimson told him.

“
Then we’ll do it this way.” He wrapped his
body around hers, his arms braced outside hers, caging her in. She
was dressed in a green and yellow sweatshirt and pants, a new
design that all the staff members wore today. The colors helped the
clients to spot them easily in the crowd, and the loose fit made it
easy to climb in and out of the cars and push them around the
showroom floor as they demonstrated the items for the
auction.

“
Will you live with me at Longwood Hall?”
he asked.

“
I’m not marrying you.”

“
I didn’t ask. All I’m offering right now
is living in sin.”

Startled,
Crimson glanced up. “Are you planning to buy the
house?”

In the mirror, she could see
t
heir combined
reflections. Nick curled like a protective shield behind her, his
dark head bent, his lips almost grazing her cheek. Just like when
he’d first grabbed her in the cafeteria a moment ago, she felt the
warm whisper of his breath on her skin. A tingle rushed down the
nape of her neck, making a shiver run through her.

Nick caught her eyes in the mirror.
“I’m buying Constantine
Motors,” he informed her, with a hint of arrogance. “Why do you
think I’ve left you alone for six weeks? I’ve spent all my time
with bankers, venture capitalists, private investors. It’s not an
easy task, raising a hundred and fifty million at a short
notice.”

“
But David Ballard…”

“
Not interested. One of my father’s little
jokes. A way to yank my strings.” He dipped his head again, kissed
her temple, trailed his lips down toward her ear, and then he
traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. The light,
playful touch of his mouth sent pleasure radiating all over
her.

“
Can’t we wait…to talk…after the
auction...?” She tried to put determination in her voice but the
words came out husky, already half relenting.

He was kissing her neck now. Hungry,
biting kisses that made something tighten low in her belly. He’d
leave marks on her skin, she knew for certain, and deep down, in
some hidden part of her mind, the thought of being dominated, of
being branded by his superior male strength gave her a secret
thrill.

“
No,” Nick told her. “I want to talk now.”
He lifted one hand from the countertop, slipped it inside her
sweatshirt. Tugging her bra aside, he cupped her breast in his
palm. “I want you, Crimson.” His voice was low and rough, his tone
earnest. “And you want me too. You can’t hide it.”

Hide it?
Crimson almost groaned out loud at the
idea. With her body trembling against his and her nipples pebbling
beneath his touch? With heat sizzling between them so fiercely that
she half expected to see the mirror steam up. Before she could
think of anything to say, she felt the pressure of Nick’s body
against hers ease as he backed away.

Instinct made her follow, seeking to
retain the
solid
contact.

“
It’s okay, Crimsy,” he told her. “I’m not
going anywhere.”

Sh
e looked up at the mirror again. In her reflection, she
could see the signs of arousal, revealed with a startling clarity
in the bright light. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, her
eyes dark, the brown merely a rim around the dilated
pupil.

Nick
bent his head, and she could no longer see his face in the
mirror, only the tousled black curls. She waited for him to look
up, so she could make out his expression, gauge his mood. What was
he doing? Another groan rose in her chest, this time broke out in a
strangled sound as she realized he was unbuttoning the flies of his
dinner suit.

Then, she felt his hands at the waist of
her sweatpants. Gently, he stroked her skin, reaching lower with
each sweep of his fingers, at the same time inching down the thick
cotton fabric and the silk and lace panties beneath. When he had
her bared, far enough to suit his purpose, he halted his
ministrations, leaving the elastic waistband bunched around her
thighs, holding up the garments.

She’d never felt so vulnerable, so
exposed
, the air cool
against her buttocks, the half lowered clothing restricting her
movements. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again
and searched for reassurance in the mirror. Nick’s face was taut,
his jaw clenched. She couldn’t see much of the rest of him, her
body blocked her view of his, but she could tell from the way he
had adjusted his position, from the way he reached down with one
hand, what he was about to do.

“
You can’t…” she whispered.

“
You want to ignore me, but your body won’t
let you. It knows we’re good together.” He pressed his palm against
her back. “Bend forward a little.”

Bracing
her arms wider, she leaned over the vanity, as if
obeying him was the most natural thing in the world to do. An
instant later, she felt it. The thick length of his erect shaft as
it rubbed between her legs, spreading moisture. Thrumming with
anticipation, her body tightened. Sensations rippled over her, heat
and lust, and a foolish disregard of every ounce of caution she
possessed.

She shivered as she felt the broad tip nudge
into her.

Nick stilled. “If you want it,” he said.
“You’ve got to take it.”

She
fought herself, fought the temptation, but she couldn’t
stop her back from arching, couldn’t stop her hips from making tiny
movements that eased him deeper into her. She was aware of nothing
but where their bodies were joined, the heat pulsing between
them.

“
I’m not wearing a condom,” Nick
said.

“
What?” she gasped.

Leaning over
her, he touched his fingertips to her cheek in a
comforting gesture. “I’m willing to take that chance with you. The
biggest chance there is. Are you willing to take a chance with me,
Crimson?”

No
, she wanted to tell him, but her body betrayed
her. Her hips slammed back, burying him deep inside her. She felt
his hands curl around her waist, holding her, guiding her as she
rocked back and forth, filling herself with his masculine power,
reaching for her own completion without restraint, ignoring the
risk they were taking.

Inside the thick cotton clothing
h
er body grew damp. Her
legs trembled, barely supporting her weight. At some point, Nick
took over, driving into her with a ferocity that had her palms
sliding against the countertop. Her ponytail spilled over her
shoulder and swung like a pendulum, in time with his
thrusts.

Then, finally, it was upon her, the
spinning sensation that
turned the whirlpool of dark desire into a climax that
swept her away, made her convulse in rhythmic waves that rocked her
against the vanity. Behind her, Nick gripped her hips tight. She
could feel him go rigid, muscles taut, spine arched. Lifting her
lashes, she looked at him in the mirror, saw him throw his head
back, his jaws clenched in the throes of passion.

Thud, thud, thud.
Loud. So loud. Crimson could
feel her heart pounding away in the confines of her ribcage, could
hear her pulse hammering in her ears. So loud. Too loud. Damn,
damn, damn. Someone was banging on the door.

She felt Nick pull out of her, heard him
snarl out an impatient curse. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her
throat. Full circle. That’s what they’d don
e. For surely, the intimate act they had
just committed was an almost exact repeat of their first encounter
in the boardroom, right down to the interruption at the
end.

“
Crimson, are you there?” It was her mother
calling.

“
Yeah, Mom,” she managed to reply. “I’ll be
out in a sec.”

“
Do you have your inhaler?”

Nick was rolling his eyes. Crimson
smothered a giggle. Did her mother know what they’d been up to? Was
Esmeralda saying
you need to take care when you have torrid sex in a
toilet,
or was she just
generally worried about her choking up with the stress of the
auction?

“
Yes, Mom,” she called out. “I’ve got it in
my pocket.”

“
Don’t be too long. Some big spender from
Singapore has just arrived.”

“
Okay, Mom.”

Retreating footsteps, then silence.
Crimson
released a sigh.
Beside her, Nick was adjusting his clothing.

“
Go,” she told him. “I need to tidy
up.”

“
We need to talk.”

“
Not here,” she pleaded. “Not now. The
factory tour will be over in a minute and there’ll be a line to use
the restrooms. Please...” She took a deep breath. Yes, they needed
to talk, if about nothing else, then at least about their second
stupid array into the territory of
I-might-be-pregnant
, but she didn’t want to plunge into an
uncomfortable negotiation over their future with the worry of the
auction pressing down on her.

“
Tonight, then.” Nick frowned at her. “I
won’t leave this restroom, or let you leave, until we’ve agreed a
time to talk.”

“
Fine. Tonight.” She ushered him toward the
door. Nick turned the handle, then spun back, pulled her into his
arms and gave her a quick, hard kiss on the lips. From somewhere
beyond him, Crimson heard a click and a startled intake of breath.
She wriggled free and peered past Nick’s broad shoulder.

“
Oh, I am
sowwy
…” The small
Japanese man who’d pulled the door open kept bowing as he scooted
away with shuffling backward steps.

Nick winked at her and eased out, sweeping
the flustered Japanese guest along with him. “Don’t worry about
it,” Crimson heard him say to the man. “That’s what it is like,
when you own a Constantine vehicle. Women throw themselves at you.
You just can’t stop them.”

****

Crimson was blowing it.
Nick watched her mingle with the guests as
twenties jazz streamed out of the sound system. She was not a
natural mixer. Suffering from the awkward manner of an introvert,
she came across as brittle and anxious, and her nervousness
impacted the mood in the room. Buyers grew uneasy when a seller
appeared too desperate to sell.

The music faded.
At the end of the showroom, Jorge got behind the
podium. Unlike the other Constantine employees, he wore a suit
today. With the thick, short moustache, he looked like a young,
Latin version of Tom Selleck.

“
Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “Let
us begin.”

Four men in
Constantine Motors overalls wheeled out the first
new Spur from the line of ten cars. Black and blue. Spur Sapphire.
The men positioned the vehicle in an empty spot on the floor, in
front of the glass wall at the end of the showroom. Outside, the
winter afternoon was drawing in, and the bare trees made stark
silhouettes against the sinking sun.

Patrick
Letterman and Katsuro Yamada each picked up a
telephone. Myrna Constantine stepped forward, elegant in a vintage
Chanel in the Constantine Racing colors of green and gold. Pride
filled Nick as he listened to his mother’s crisp, calm voice. “We
have several advance bids. The highest, at $341,000, is from the
United States.”

“
Bidding starts at $341,000.” Jorge
surveyed the room. “Do I have $345,000?”

A discreet numbered paddle rose
and fell. Nick studied the
crowd, the women in particular. In his experience, wives acted as a
brake on spending, girlfriends encouraged it. For example, the
redhead clinging to the arm of the tall Texan was rising on tiptoe,
whispering at the man, no doubt telling him what she could do to
him in the car if he bought it for her. And he did. The girlfriend
bounced and squealed in delight.