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Four
In a traffic-clogged lane on the freeway, Addison worried her lip with her teeth as she watched a trail of smoke snake out from under the hood of her hatchback. She was no mechanic, but she guessed that smoke coming from any part of her car was bad.
She was twenty minutes into her trip with several hours to go. She just needed a little bit of luck. She shut off the air-conditioning, hoping that taking the AC out of the equation would encourage her antique car to complete its journey as far as the next exit, but her beloved rust bucket jerked forward one final time before wheezing and, ultimately, stalling.
Lady Luck had given her the finger.
Honks sounded in the air, along with a few choice swear words from her fellow commuters. Like she decided to break down? She was tempted to shout back at them. Something to the effect of, “Oh, you know, just taking a breather here in the far right lane!” Instead she bit her tongue, grateful that she’d managed to steer onto the shoulder at least partially.
Her entire morning had been frustrating.
She’d forgotten to halt her mail and discovered this morning that the post office’s website was down. So she’d physically driven to the post office and waited in line and then filled out one of those stupid forms. As a result, her planned departure from River Grove at 10:00 a.m. had been delayed two hours.
And now this.
Well. She was going to have to call for help.
Her parents weren’t an option and hadn’t been for some time. Discussion of a broken-down car would lead them to remind her how if she’d stayed “at Joe’s family’s company,” she’d not only have reliable transportation but also would have funded her retirement by now. She guessed they still held her responsible for the fracture in their relationship with the Harts, but Addi refused to take the blame. She’d worked hard to get where she was in life. Her parents might not give her credit for thriving without their money or connections, but she was proud of herself.
She typed tow trucks Silicon Valley into her phone. Approximately six million options popped up on the screen. How was she supposed to know who was reliable? Who wouldn’t overcharge her? Who would be the fastest?
She debated for the count of three drivers who sped past and flipped her off before calling the most logical person. If there was a silver lining for this crappy day, it was that her car had chosen to croak ten miles from ThomKnox headquarters.
“Mr. Brannon Knox’s office, may I help you?” answered the temp currently stationed at Addi’s desk.
“Hi, this is Addison Abrams, Brannon’s executive assistant. Is he available?”
“One moment.”
A brief pause later, Bran’s silky voice was caressing her ear canal. “Couldn’t stay away, I see.”
“My car broke down. I was hoping you could recommend a towing company.” She rattled off the nearest exit and then had to repeat herself when some jerk swerved around her, horn blaring.
“What the hell was that? Are you okay?”
“Apparently it’s frowned upon to have car trouble on the 80.”
“You realize you could wait an hour or two for a tow truck to arrive, and that’s optimistic.”
She grunted. “That sounds about right for today.”
“I’ll pick you up myself.”
He’d...what?
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean for—”
“Addison.” Those three sternly spoken syllables locked her throat. “Sit tight. I’m coming for you.”
Congratulations! You’ve just unlocked another Brannon Knox fantasy badge.
Her car’s hood was up, Bran’s upper half hidden under it. His suit jacket was tossed over the front seat of his shiny red sports car, which he’d parked in front of her car and off to the side. A tow truck was on its way, but he’d insisted on having a look himself. Before this moment, she would’ve bet her life savings that Bran didn’t have a clue about cars. Why would he? He was a billionaire. Everything was probably done for him.
But no, of course he knew enough to climb on in and make another of her sexual fantasies about him bloom to life. He pulled this wire and that, checked a dipstick here and twisted a cap there. All while she admired the ropey muscles of his forearms and the way his white shirt stuck to the muscles of his back thanks to a damp pool of sweat.
He cranked something or another, grunting with exertion while she silently lectured her lady parts. Him attempting to resuscitate a vehicle was hands down the sexiest thing she’d ever seen him do. There was no desk hiding his long legs, encased in charcoal trousers and leading up to a spectacular ass. She’d always admired Bran’s backside, and now she could do it without worry of being caught.
She wrenched her eyes from his amazing physique to watch those hands twisting and tightening. The longer hair on top of his head fell over his forehead, sweat trickled down his face as he grimaced with effort. Her gaze wandered south of its own accord as she pictured him exerting himself elsewhere, same sweat, same hair on his forehead, only he’d be over top of her. Or beneath her.
