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“I hope you get a lot of business out of this,” she said as they left the hotel.
He seemed distracted, looking outside to the parking lot. “Yeah, it should be great.”
Odd that Jed didn’t seem nearly as excited as she was for him.
“Jed. You do want new business, right?”
That snapped his attention back to her. “What? Oh, sure I do. Thanks for bringing me along. This really helps a lot. You ready to go?”
He didn’t sound excited. They headed outside to the parking lot. She rolled her eyes and dug into her purse for her keys. Men were so hard to figure out.
His fingers were on hers and she hadn’t even realized he was behind her.
“Mind if I drive?”
She tilted her head back. “Is this a male thing? You can’t stand to let a woman drive you?”
“No, it’s an ‘I want to get my hands on your engine’ thing.”
She turned around and cocked a brow. “Is that a euphemism for sex?”
“Well, it wasn’t, but now that you mention it . . .”
She laughed and dropped the keys in his hand. “One scratch and you pay for it, and this baby’s a classic.”
“Don’t I know it.”
He started up the Chevelle, and Elena watched as he closed his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Shhh. . . . I’m listening to her purr.”
“Stop that or I’ll get jealous.”
His lips curved and he put the car in gear and drove off, giving the car just enough gas to make the ride a thrill. As she suspected, he didn’t take her right home, instead drove north, taking them for a ride parallel to the shore. The night was cool, but the windows were down, the car was rocking and she was with a man who knew exactly what to do when he manhandled all the horsepower of the Chevelle. He let her loose and pressed on the gas and they went flying.
For the first time in as long as she could remember, Elena sat back and let someone else do the driving. She enjoyed every minute of the wind in her hair, the salty smack of ocean breeze on her face and the beauty of a man’s chiseled features in the driver’s seat.
He pulled in front of an empty stretch of beach and parked, leaving the radio tuned in to the oldies station.
She took off her seat belt and half turned to face him. “This is very sixties, park and make out.”
He turned and put his arm over the seat. “Really? I thought you’d never ask.”
She laughed. “Yeah, except for the bucket seats.”
He cast his gaze behind him. “These bucket seats are plenty big enough.”
“Are you serious?”
“You never made out in the car?”
“No.”
“What a shame. This is a great make-out car.”
She rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be more comfortable to go to my place?”
