Brenda Jackson - Stern

She eased down in one of the outdoor cedar rocking chairs. Even after her hot shower and cold beer, she was still feeling frustrated and angry. Why couldn’t Stern take her seriously and answer her question? It should work in her favor that she was best friends with a man most women believed to be the hottest thing on legs. Stern got any woman he wanted. If anybody ought to know about a woman’s appeal, it should be him.

JoJo chuckled, remembering. In high school, girls would deliberately pretend to befriend her for no other reason than to get close to Stern. It never worked for long because once Stern learned the truth he would drop them like hot potatoes. He refused to let anyone use her. To him, friendship meant more than that. If those girls didn’t want to be her friend because of who she was, then he wanted no part of them.

In truth, most of the girls she’d known in high school, and even some of the women she knew now, preferred not to hang around with someone who wasn’t very girly. JoJo preferred jeans to dresses. She liked to hunt, practiced karate, could shoot a bow and arrow, and knew more about what was under the hood of a car than most guys. Of course, that last skill set had come from her father, who had been a professional mechanic. And not just any mechanic—he had been the best.

A deep lump clogged her throat. It was hard to believe he had passed away two years ago. He’d suffered a massive heart attack while doing something he loved—working on a car. Her mother had died when JoJo was eleven, so her father’s death had left her parentless. She’d inherited the auto mechanic shop, which had given her the opportunity to come out of the classroom and get under the hood of a car.

After she had gotten the teaching degree her father had wanted her to get, she’d obtained a graduate degree in technical engineering. She had enjoyed being a professor at one of the local community colleges, but owning and operating the Golden Wrench was what she truly loved.

“So are we still on speaking terms?”

Stern placed a tray of tortilla chips and salsa on the table beside her. He then slid into the other rocker.

“Not sure if we are or not,” she said, reaching over and grabbing a chip to dip into the salsa and then sliding the whole thing in her mouth. “I asked you a question and you didn’t answer me because you assumed I wasn’t serious.”

Stern took a sip of beer and glanced over the can at her. “Were you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Then I apologize. I honestly thought you were trying to mess with my concentration.”

A smile touched her lips. “Would I do that?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Well, yes,” she admitted, trying to hide her amusement. “But I didn’t today. I need information.”

“On how a woman could make a man want her?”

“Yes.”

Stern leaned forward in his chair and pierced her with a dark, penetrating gaze. “Why?”

She lifted a brow. “Why?”

“Yes, why would you want to know something like that?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead she took a sip of her beer and looked out at the mountains. It was a beautiful September day. A red fox flashed through a cluster of pine trees before darting between a patch of woods to disappear.

After she’d gathered her thoughts, she turned back to Stern. “There’s this guy who brings his car to the shop. He’s sexy. Oh...is he sexy.”

Stern rolled his eyes. “I’ll take your word for it. Go on.”

She shrugged. “That’s it.”

Stern frowned. “That’s it?”

“Yes. I’ve decided I want him. The question is, how can I get him to want me, too?”

* * *

As far as Stern was concerned, the real question was, had JoJo lost her ever-loving mind? But he didn’t say that. Instead, he took another sip of his beer.

He knew JoJo better than he knew anyone, and if she was determined to do something then that was it. He could help her, or she’d find help somewhere else.

“What’s his name?” he asked.

She slid another chip into her mouth. “You don’t need to know that. Do you tell me the name of every woman you want?”

“This is different.”

“Really? In what way?”

He wasn’t sure, but he just knew that it was. Using the pad of his thumb, he rubbed the tension building at his temple. “First of all, when it comes to men, you’re green. And second, for you to even ask me that question means you’re not ready for the kind of relationship you’re going after.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Pleeze, Stern. I’ll be thirty next year. Most women my age are married by now, some with children. And I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

He wasn’t moved by that argument. “I’ll be thirty-one next year and I don’t have a girlfriend.” When she looked over at him, he amended that statement. “Not a steady one. I like being single.”

“But you do date. A lot. I’m beginning to think that most of the men in town wonder if I’m really a girl.”

He studied her. There had never been any doubt in his mind that she was a girl. She had long lashes and eyes so dark they were the color of midnight. Those eyes were staring straight ahead now, looking out over the thick woods. She had her bare legs lifted in the rocker with her arms wrapped around them. Her pose emphasized the muscles in her limbs. He knew she did a lot of physical work at the shop, but the two of them also had memberships at a gym in town.

She had changed out of her hunting clothes and was wearing cut-off jeans and a short top. She had gorgeous legs, long and endless. But he knew he was one of the few men who’d ever seen them. She opened the shop at eight and closed after five. It wasn’t unusual for her to work late if she had a car an owner needed. And during that whole time, she wore an auto-mechanic’s uniform splattered with grease. A number of men would be surprised how she looked wearing something other than that uniform.

“You hide stuff,” he finally said.

She glanced over at him, frowning. “I hide what?”

“What a nice body you have. Most of the time men see you in your work clothes.”

Her frown deepened. “Well, forgive me for not wearing stilettos and a slinky dress while I change a carburetor.”

A vision of that flashed through his mind and he smiled as he took a sip of beer. “Stilettos and a slinky dress? You don’t have to go that far, but...”

He glanced over at her and saw she was pouting. He kind of liked it when she pouted. She looked cute.

“But what?”

“You would probably gain more men’s interest if you were seen around town after hours in something other than jeans and sweats. You’re a female, JoJo. Men like women who look soft and sexy once in a while.”

She studied the contents of her beer bottle. “You think that might do it?”

“Probably.” He suddenly sat up straight in the rocker. “I have an idea. What you need is a makeover.”

“A makeover?”

“Yes, and then you need to go where your guy hangs out. In a dress that shows your legs, a new hairdo—”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

Honestly, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with her hair. It was long, thick and healthy. He should know. He’d helped her wash it numerous times over the years. He loved it when she wore it down past her shoulders, but these days she rarely did.

“You have beautiful hair. You just need to show it off more. Even now you’re hiding it under a cap.”

He reached over and took the hat off her head. Lustrous dark brown hair tumbled to her shoulders. He smiled. “See, I like it already.”

And he did. He was tempted to run his hands through it to feel the silky texture.

He leaned back and took another sip of his beer, wondering where such a tempting thought came from. This was JoJo, for heaven’s sake. His best friend. He should not be thinking about how silky her hair was.