Page 3 of Mister Prick

He was taller than I remembered, and easily the sexiest man I had ever met. I shook off the natural desire to be sucked into the bubble of machismo that surrounded him, and reminded myself that above all things he was a customer, a client, and, potentially, my month’s rent check.

I forced a smile. “I have.”

“Why didn’t you come back with one forty?” He arched an eyebrow. “That’s the middle. It’s where we’re both supposed to find the comfort you spoke of.”

“There isn’t as much markup on these cars as you’d think,” I said in a flat tone, hoping I sounded convincing.

He returned a blank stare.

I hadn’t sold a car all month. I needed him to buy the M5 at a reasonable price, or an eviction notice would be tacked to my door. “Your one forty price is roughly a grand less than cost,” I lied. “You’ve got to come up to one forty-one, or I’ll be looking for a new job.”

“You haven’t looked at your computer or talked to the sales manager.” His gaze dropped to my feet and then slowly rose the length of my frame, pausing for an inordinate amount of time upon reaching my breasts. “How do you know what cost is?”

I wondered if my blouse was too revealing. Despite feeling a little uneasy, I remained straight-faced, or at least tried to. “It’s my job to know what cost is.”

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Do you like fucking people, Jess?” He met my gaze with smiling eyes. “It’s Jess, right?”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

His eyebrows raised as he stood in wait of my response.

“It’s uhhm. Actually, it’s Jessica,” I stammered. “Do I like fucking people? Is that what you just asked me?”

He gave a slight nod.

“What does that…what does that have to do with--”

He coughed a dry laugh. “Personally, I enjoy being fucked.” His eyes returned to the ‘v’ of my blouse, paused, and then met mine. “But not when I’m buying a car. Are you fucking me, Jess?”

If anyone in the room was being fucked, it was me. He was fucking me with his eyes, fucking me on my commission, and fucking with my mind.

“There’s one person in this room that’s getting a good deal,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And it isn’t me. A thousand bucks profit on a hundred and forty-one-thousand-dollar investment is less than three quarters of one percent. That’s not a very good return on our money. I doubt that’s a venture you’d make with your money, Mr. Devoe. So, if there’s a fucking going on, it’s you fucking the owner of this dealership.”

He grinned ever so slightly. “I hate odd numbers.”

“I hate the thought of looking for a job. Get the 550i. It’s eighty-four grand.” I cocked my hip and looked him over quickly. “How’s that for an even number?”

His focus dropped to my ass. After a moment, he met my gaze. “It’s not fast enough. Let’s take the M5 for a drive.”

I was twenty-nine, single, and now rocking a ninety-four-day sexual dry spell. The thought of being confined in a car with him made me nervous. Excitedly so. I felt my temperature rise ten degrees, and wondered if my face had gone noticeably flush. I swallowed a wad of anxiousness that became tangled in my throat and reached toward my desk.

I tossed the key fob in his direction. “Take it for a spin.”

Without shifting his eyes away from me, he snatched the keys from the air. “You’re coming with.”

“I uhhm. I’ve got a few things I need to take care of,” I murmured. “Go ahead.”

He grabbed his leather messenger bag and turned toward the door. “I like the way you smell, Jess. You’re coming with.”

I blushed. I was sure of it. “Jessica. It’s Jessica.” A mental sigh escaped me. “Go ahead,” I cooed. “I’ll be right there.”

If I was going to have sit through the torturous affair of riding in the car with him, at least I wanted to ogle him first.

As he walked away, that’s exactly what I did.