“You’re wearing white. I’ll get you all greasy. Sorry,” I said, backing off.
“No, you get back here, Drew Casey,” she said sternly. “And you get me as greasy as you want. I’ll have it dry cleaned or I’ll throw it out. You mean a lot more to me than some stupid dress. Now come here and kiss me.”
I had grinned at her bossy response, at how she declared in front of every knucklehead who worked for me that I meant a lot to her, that she wanted my greasy hands all over her. I had grabbed her waist and she looped her arms around my neck. Her lips were cool on mine, and my hot tongue plundered her mouth. In about ten seconds, John told the guys to take an early lunch and they all hurried out of the shop and left in their trucks. That gave us the shop all to ourselves. I had locked the door, and she had pulled the blinds. The mischievous look over her shoulder told me she had exactly this in mind. I took a drink of the lemonade and then set it aside. There was no denying what we both wanted.
“Happy anniversary,” I had whispered against her cheekbone, “three weeks ago today you let me make you dinner. I’m calling that our first date.”
“Our first kiss was still on the Fourth of July,” she teased.
“Yeah, it’ll be like twenty-two years since the first time I kissed you. God, I wish I’d been kissing you every day since,” I growled.
Michelle started on my work jeans, sliding the zipper down. “It’s awful hot in here, Mr. Casey, we should get you out of these clothes,” she said in her deepest southern drawl.
“Why, Miss Michelle, are you flirting with me?” I played along.
“No, sir. A woman never flirts. I’m seducing you. Now tell me where you want me.”
“Everywhere,” I said truthfully.
“Well, narrow it down. Where have you imagined having me? I know you’ve imagined sneaking around with me. We both always loved hat, and I admit that I have certain places in the library I wouldn’t mind introducing you to.”
“You’ll have to give me a tour after hours,” I said archly.
“I think that could be arranged. But for right now, here we are. On your turf. So tell me exactly what you’d like to do with me here.”
“Everything. My mind has just quit on me. It’s too incredible and full of possibility. I don’t know how I could possibly decide.”
“You better decide or I’ll think you’re not interested and I’ll decide to be offended,” she warned.
“I wouldn’t want to offend you. After all, you’re my lover,” I said, stalking toward her. “Now over here is a Monte Carlo I’m restoring.”
“Nice,” she observed.
“Red leather seats and all,” I said suggestively.
“Do you think the owner would mind if we got down and dirty in his back seat?”
“I’m the owner. And I’d be honored,” I said.
“So, you’re not a Corvette man? I never pegged you for collecting Monte Carlos,” she teased.
“I met a guy at a car show a few months ago who wanted me to find him one and restore it. I bought this one off an ad, one-owner, the woman inherited it when her grandpa died. When I’ve got it ready to sell, I stand to make a big profit off of it. But that’s no reason not to have some fun in it first.”
“Are you sure? I mean, if you bought an original Monet to resell, we wouldn’t desecrate it.”
“First of all, I don’t consider what we do together as desecrating anything. Then we have the fact that I wouldn’t choose a small painting for a secret rendezvous. This has plenty of room in the back, and I think it deserves to be christened properly.”
“Are you saying the grandpa that owned it never got busy in the back?”
“We don’t know. Maybe grandpa was wild.”
“Maybe he was,” she said. “And it has been a while since I made out in the backseat with you.”
“We made out in the cab of my truck yesterday.”
“That’s not a backseat,” she said.
“Okay, you’re right. It’s been a while.”
“When I got my car, when I turned sixteen, we broke in that back seat, I remember,” she said.
“That was a good year. We could both drive. It was easier to see you then. Although, don’t leave prescriptions in the car.”
“Right,” she said, shaking her head at the memory, “we were lucky that I didn’t get pregnant. I was trying to keep my pills secret from the housekeeper because she’d tell my dad. So I left them in the car after I picked them up. I didn’t know they couldn’t get hot.”
“That was probably the first time I really remember being scared.”
“What about when your brother let you watch the Chucky movie?” she teased.
“Okay, that doesn’t count. Chucky was a demon doll. Everyone is scared of Chuckie.”