Shifting Gears (7 page)

His playlist moved on to some classic George Strait, interrupting his train of thought. He slowed his running to a cool-down jog, but movement in the doorway to the exercise room caught his eye. He jerked his head around and saw
her.

Annabelle. Standing at the threshold, gaping at him, her mouth halfway open as she stared at his bare chest. Everything in her face read like heat and sex and want, and it nearly made his body go haywire. His skin tightened and his blood felt like it was bouncing out of his body.

Forget the company he was starting.
This
was the promise of fulfillment.
This
was the dream he wanted most at the moment.

He barely managed to slam the emergency stop button down before he went careening off the thing, then stood for a moment, taking her in. He'd thought a run would help bring down this desire for her, but it hadn't seemed to work. The only message his brain seemed to be coming up with was that she was the sexiest woman he'd ever seen. A dark skirt draped over her beautiful hips, showing off those long, slim legs, while the blue blouse she had on intensified the color of her eyes …

Which were currently fixed on his chest, so hungry-looking that her gaze was practically consuming him.

Fuck.
He couldn't take this. He wanted to be near her. Had to.

He pushed off the treadmill and started walking toward her.

“Grady!” She sounded out of breath, like she was the one who'd just run five miles. “I-I'm so sorry to intrude. I didn't mean…”

She trailed off, but she hadn't stopped staring at his body. Now he was less than a foot away from her, and the way she was taking him in, her eyes all big and hot and desire-filled, was pushing that tight, pounding feeling even lower.

He took another step toward her, memory of the way she'd pressed against him in the foyer shooting along his nerve endings and the images of her from his dream last night racing through his mind.

Then—
holy shit
—her hand came out and touched his bare chest …

And he was done for.

His arm whipped around her back and yanked her to him, the need to possess her overwhelming everything else.

Annabelle. Mine. Woman. Mine. Take. Mine. Mine. Mine.

It became a chant, the only thing he could think as he brought his mouth down to hers.

Mine.

She tipped her head back to better meet his lips, her hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shoulders.

Mine.

It was so good. Incredible. Her lips were soft and her body fit against his so perfectly, her hips pushing into his and making his arousal grow. And, oh,
yes …
there was no hesitation as she opened her sweet, wet mouth to let him in, his tongue stroking over hers and making her moan.

Hell, yeah.
He pulled her even tighter against him and walked a few steps forward, until her back was up against the wall by the door and the both of them were writhing against one another, his sweaty body rubbing all over her nice, clean dress as their kiss grew deeper, filthier, until—

“Oh my
God!
” Annabelle had torn her mouth from his and gasped the words while pushing against his shoulders. Pushing him
away.

Shit.

He wheeled away from her, shaking out his damp shirt and yanking it on over his head in a flash, covering himself while silently cursing how aggressively he'd just acted. What must she think of him? He was supposed to be interviewing her, not backing her up against a wall and nearly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He couldn't seem to think straight when she was around. And he was still aroused, damn it. The way she looked, with her lips all kiss-swollen and her blouse rumpled, wasn't helping.

That's not her fault.

Of course not. It was his fault. But that didn't stop him from wishing that she'd reach out and touch him again, even though his shirt was back on.

She blinked as though coming out of a daze, and suddenly her cheeks were bright pink, as though she'd only then realized what they'd just done.

He forced a smile, trying to look casual. “Hey. Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting you for another fifteen minutes.”

Great explanation. Hey, you surprised me into sticking my tongue in your mouth?

But before he could correct himself, she shook her head. “Oh no. Oh.
I'm
the one who should apologize,” she said weakly. “Traffic wasn't as bad as I'd expected and I figured I'd just … pop in early.” As she spoke, she slowly straightened, pulling that loose-limbed posture back into something more professional. Closed off.

He hated it. He wanted her
open
to him. In every way.

Except no way could he start that again. This was already awkward enough with him about to interview her for a job. It didn't matter if he was leaving Hart Racing. He didn't want it to be weird or, God forbid, have her feel like she
had
to kiss him or be shut out of the job.

He should take his cues from her and ignore it. Act professional and pretend that their mind-blowing kiss hadn't just happened. Fine.

“Why don't you head into my office—” He gestured down the hall—“while I get cleaned up? I'll be with you in just a few minutes.”

She swallowed hard enough that he could see her throat work, that beautiful throat that just begged to be stroked and nipped and—

“Okay.” She nodded, pulling his attention back into the present. “I'll see you in a bit then. Enjoy your shower.”

From the way her ears pinked, he knew she hadn't meant it like it sounded, or at least the way he interpreted it, like he should pleasure himself in the shower. Which he wanted to do, but she didn't know that.

Did she? Had he read her return to professionalism correctly, or did she want to kiss him again as much as he wanted to kiss her?

It was hard to tell. And it was confusing the hell out of him.

That shouldn't matter for a job interview, idiot.

Right. He made himself smile politely. “Great. Help yourself to coffee, tea, whatever you want. There's a kitchen just past my office.” At this point, his smile was more like a grimace, and he was speaking through clenched teeth, feeling the need to find release so badly that he could barely keep it contained.

She started walking backward, toward his office, eyeing him like he was some kind of dangerous animal. “Sure. Thanks. See ya.” By then she was almost out of sight, and he watched as she spun on her heel and practically ran.

He took a moment to collect himself, then headed out, too, moving in the opposite direction, bracing himself for what was probably going to be the coldest shower of his life.

*   *   *

Oh my Lord oh my Lord oh my Lord.

Annabelle practically ran into Grady's spacious office. The room was well-lit, with a set of floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall that overlooked the garage area below and another windowed wall that offered a view of the grassy lot on the side of the building.

Too bad her vision was too clouded by a lust haze to enjoy it. That kiss …

Wow. She'd never had a kiss like that. One that had made her feel needy and needed at the same time, ready to hike up her skirt right then and there and let him have her against the wall.

She should have been shocked to realize that she would have let him do it. Her lips were still tingling and her fingers were practically twitching to feel his skin beneath their tips once more. But she wasn't shocked at all. In fact, she found herself rather unfazed by the realization that Grady made her want things she'd never even considered before that kiss, as though she'd been ready for something like this for a long time.

He was hotter even than she'd imagined. His arms were sinewy and strong, and his chest and the lines that outlined his stomach muscles were so well-defined that they looked like a path specifically built for her to run her tongue along. Too bad she'd had to settle for using her hands, instead.

That thought made her smirk to herself. Who would have thought that she'd start her morning off like that?

She'd found Grady shortly after heading down that corridor, his body moving with so much controlled grace that she'd been unable to move for a moment as she just stood and watched him. That strong jaw, his harsh breaths—he'd been wearing headphones, which was probably why he hadn't heard her call out from the vestibule—and the absolute concentration on his face was breathtaking.

She'd gotten lost in her fantasies, wondering what it would feel like to have a man like that on top of her, moving inside of her with the same driving focus that he was showing on the treadmill. He was sweating hard, his body slick with it, and it made her breasts tingle and her clit pulse. It had been impossible not to stare.

By the time she realized how obvious she was being, he was hauling her against him and making her want … oh, so much. She'd wanted him to lift her skirt, to rip her pantyhose apart and thrust deep and hard inside of her and—

“You didn't want any coffee?”

Annabelle jumped and whipped around. Grady stood just inside the door, dressed in a Hart Racing polo shirt and a pair of chinos, his hair still damp from the shower. She could smell the soap and shampoo from where she stood, having wandered to the far wall of windows without even realizing it.

Her cheeks felt hot.

Could he tell that she'd been daydreaming about him? Could he tell that she'd just had the dirtiest sex fantasy of her life while standing in his office … and it had starred him and her and the wood-paneled wall in the hallway?

“You okay?” He frowned a bit. “Listen, about just now, I was thinking about it in the shower—” He cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes for a second on a sigh, then opened them again. “What I mean to say is that I really am sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I—”

“I'd love some coffee,” she blurted, cutting him off. She didn't want any more apologies. Not for that kiss.

He blinked at her, and she could see the flash of paralysis that hit him, no doubt thrown by her abrupt declaration.

But he recovered quickly enough and simply nodded an acceptance, then asked, “Sure. Cream? Sugar?”

She shook her head. “Just black.”

He whistled. “That's hard core, Annabelle.”

I'll show you hard core if you just come a little closer.

The thought surprised a giggle out of her. Not just because she knew she didn't really have the guts to say something like that out loud—hardly hard core—but because if he actually did it, the truth was that she'd probably be too overwhelmed to do anything more than just
lie there.
During that kiss, all the sensations warring in her had come to a head, making her gasp and push him away just to get a handle on her arousal, and the way he'd looked at her …

Like she'd been a mistake.

So she'd pretended nothing had happened, and he'd been all too eager to play along.

It probably meant that she was terrible at kissing.

Maybe you just need a little more practice. I bet Grady would help you with that.

She snorted in amusement at her own thoughts.

Grady gave her a bemused look. “One black coffee, coming up.” He walked back out, and she found herself checking out his butt as he left.

Annabelle clenched her fists at her side, hating that she couldn't reach out and touch him like she wanted to. She'd love to touch Grady, to sleep with him. Heaven knew she was due for some sex, already. Four years was a long time for a woman to go without—she and Donnie had started sleeping separately after he'd fallen into bed reeking of alcohol one too many nights in a row—and while she could always use her hand on herself to release a little tension, it wasn't the same.

But if Grady ended up hiring her, getting involved with him was a bad idea. Even if he hadn't thought she was a terrible kisser, she couldn't mix money and romance again. Once was enough for that particular mistake.

Grady came back in holding a mug. Steam rose up from the top, and she could smell the aroma of good coffee even before he was close enough to offer it to her.

“One cup of hard core,” he teased, handing it over.

Oh, that sexy smile …

She took it from him with a quiet
Thanks,
and as she lifted it to her mouth for a sip, it occurred to her that she was already making a lot of progress toward the Annabelle she wanted to be.

One cup of hard core at a time.

Chapter 5

He was thinking about kissing her again.

Hell, who was he kidding? He hadn't stopped thinking about it for the past two days, ever since that first, hot kiss they'd shared … right before Annabelle started her job as team manager of Hart Racing.

He'd followed her lead, though, and not mentioned it again—not even so much as looked at her in any way other than professional during their interview.

And what he'd learned about her in that time had impressed the hell out of him. Turned out, she'd used the same ordering software back in Texas that Hart Racing used, she knew the names of all the car parts and most of the machines they used, and she'd even given them a suggestion on better bookkeeping software that he planned to take. By the time the hour-long interview was over, he was pretty surprised by her knowledge and skill, but he was also convinced that she was perfect for the job. She knew her way around a garage and so much about cars that he wondered what else she might know that he simply hadn't thought to ask her about.

That was the only thing that confused him—she answered his questions without hesitation, but she never seemed to
volunteer
anything.

Not that it was a bad thing
not
to brag about what she knew, but it bothered him to think that she might feel like she couldn't share it, for some reason. She never talked about her personal life or her mom, even though he knew she was living back at home. And a couple of times, the way she'd seemed to clam up abruptly felt almost like she wasn't sure
how
to talk about herself.