Leslie Kelly - Here Comes Trouble

She hated Peter Prescott for going after her sister to get even with Sabrina for breaking up with him—and for turning him in to their employer for his dishonest activities. But she positively loathed him for costing both sisters their family. Judgmental and old-fashioned or not, they were the only family Sabrina had. And she truly missed them.

Well…most of them.

“I know enough about engines to know you’re never going to be able to get to that green wire.” She pushed his hand out of the way and slipped her fingers into the crevice, catching a frayed wire between the tips of two fingers. She might not always be able to walk in big-girl shoes, but she knew how to use her hands.

And she’d sure like to use them on him….

“Excellent,” he murmured. “I scraped the rust off the receptor—can you reattach it?”

She did so, pretending she didn’t notice the warmth of his breath against her hair. Nothing, however, could make her forget feeling it.

Once she’d accomplished the task, Sabrina leaned out of the way, allowing the stranger to get back to work. He focused on the motor for a few minutes, until she almost thought he’d forgotten she was there.

Then, under his breath, he asked, “Are you from Trouble?”

“No. You?”

He shook his head. “Just visiting.”

“Hot time in the big city?” She didn’t bother keeping the dry tone out of her voice.

“What can I say?” he said with a small laugh. “I love life in the fast lane.”

“I think a horse and buggy would be too fast for this town, so I don’t imagine you’re going to stumble over any Hooters restaurants or wet T-shirt contests.”

His lips twitched as if he was about to laugh at her quip, but he didn’t. Instead, a slight frown tugged at his brow and his mouth pulled tight with disapproval. “I can’t imagine such a thing. It’s awful to think women would degrade themselves in such a way or that men would enjoy it.”

Surprise made her jaw drop. He was shocked by the idea?

Wow, this had to be one amazing guy if he thought bouncing breasts in wet cotton were utterly shocking when she, Reverend Caleb Tucker’s oldest granddaughter, did not. For a man who looked like this one, even Sabrina might forget that a wet T-shirt wouldn’t look so great over the push-up bra she wore when she needed to pretend she had some cleavage.

“You know, I hear the old movie theater opens once a month,” he offered, his eyes wide and innocent. “Third Saturday…that’s coming up. Better keep your calendar clear.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “But, well, I don’t even know you, ma’am.”

She almost gnashed her teeth, embarrassed as hell. He wasn’t being insulting and she hadn’t shocked him. He simply sounded a little surprised, as if he wasn’t used to such a forward female.

Ha. Nancy had been telling her for four years—since she’d hired Sabrina right out of college—that she was about as romantically aggressive as a guppy. Why this man—who had obviously in no way been making sexual comments earlier—was making her behave in such a way, she had no idea.

“I was just joking,” she mumbled, wondering if the heat in her cheeks had made her face flame red. And if there was any way he’d interpret such redness as her skin crisping under the bright sun. One could hope.

“So why are you here, anyway?” he asked.

She thought of her cover story, the one she and Nancy had concocted. From all reports, Max Taylor’s eccentric—some said mad—old grandfather had just purchased this entire town. And his grandson was here trying to get the man out of the deal, or else resell the property.

She didn’t like carrying on the charade when Taylor wasn’t around to hear it, but since she needed to maintain the facade for as long as she was here, she stuck to her story. “I’m just looking the place over, for possible investment purposes. This is the town that was advertised in the New York Times, isn’t it, with lots of potential for investors?”

His eyes flared and the man reared back, almost tumbling to his butt on the dusty ground. Then a broad smile brightened his face, setting those green eyes to sparkling and sucking the last coherent thought right out of Sabrina’s head.

“You bet it is, and you won’t regret making the trip. Do you need a tour guide? I’d be glad to show you around.” Rising to his feet again, he reached down to help her up, as well.

She shouldn’t have taken his hand. Shouldn’t have let skin touch skin. At the feel of his rough, warm fingers against her own, she mentally crossed the big giant T in her brain that reminded her she was in big trouble. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the name of the godforsaken little town.

No. She was in trouble because now, when she could least afford it, she’d stumbled over the kind of male distraction she’d almost given up on finding. A distraction who was looking at her like she was his guardian angel and Playboy fantasy woman all rolled into one.

She yanked her hand away, clenching then unclenching her fingers to get them to stop tingling.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here. Have you seen all the public buildings yet? Been inside that movie theater? There’s a huge amount of potential there.”

Sabrina, still reeling from the way she’d reacted to his simple touch, remained silent.

“What a fortunate coincidence that we met,” he added, his enthusiasm so boyishly charming that she couldn’t help smiling in response.

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m exactly the man you need to see.”

She did need to see him. Naked. And soon. No matter what her brain was telling her about why he was the wrong kind of man, her sexual self wanted nothing more than to watch his clothes come off piece by piece, to reveal that incredible body under the bright, sunny sky.

But he couldn’t know that…she hoped. Which meant he was referring to something else.

“How so?”

“Because I happen to have an ‘in’ with the owner of this place and I can guarantee he’d love to meet you.”

The owner. Max Taylor’s grandfather. The one who lived with the spoiled, sexpot pilot himself.

Though shaking inside, Sabrina maintained a calm expression. It was time to focus on her mission—getting Grace’s book into print as written—and to forget about handsome mechanics with laughing eyes and killer chests. Time to get into character and do what she’d come to this lousy town to do: pretend to be an investor. Pretend to be rich. Get Max Taylor to come after her and prove himself as big a fiery sex maniac as Grace made him out to be.

Without getting herself burned in the process.

Maybe she should just call this Mission: Impossible?

Too bad she’d put on a simple pair of jeans and sneakers for the drive here today—she certainly wasn’t dressed for seduction. But she wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away, not when she was finally so close to Max Taylor she could almost smell him.

“Okay,” she forced herself to say to the dusty mechanic, who she could no longer afford to lust after, even mentally, “that would be wonderful. Can we go now?”

She held her breath, and almost groaned in frustration when the man shook his head. “He’s not home right now, but if you want to come by tomorrow, I promise I’d be happy to introduce you. You can’t miss the house—it’s right there.”

He pointed through the woods toward a small hill. She could just make out the top floor of a three-story monstrosity looking like something out of a Nathaniel Hawthorne story. A famous millionaire lived there?

Sabrina hid her surprise. “Okay. What time?”

He shrugged, looking at the carousel and at the hammer in his hand. “I have the feeling I’ll be here all day. So come on by whenever you want and I’ll walk you up.”