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“Brat,” she heard him yell as she left the room to greet their customer.
Jensen checked the time on his cell phone and wondered what was taking so long. He and his brother had come to Hayes’s Custom Paint and Body to have his motorcycle painted, and also to talk to the town's top artist about working up a logo for Man-Maid. His brother had told him about the artist who had a reputation in town for some seriously stellar work. Since a lot rode on the company's presentation, and his motorcycle was his baby, he wanted only the best for both jobs.
“You sure this woman is the best?”
“Relax, bro, she’s an amazing artist.” Jason took in the neat appearance of the spacious shop and said, “Remember the skull Bobby had painted on his bike?”
Bobby was a guy they knew from high school who just happened to be completely obsessed with motorcycles. “I do remember that. It was a work of art.”
“He brought it here,” Jason said. “In fact, he brings all his bikes here.”
Jensen shrugged. “If it’s good enough for Bobby, then it’s good enough for me.”
Without warning, Jensen’s mind strayed from motorcycles and on to more pleasant things—like a blonde-haired woman who wielded an umbrella like a friggin’ ninja. God, it’d been a week since he’d seen her, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her—despite the woman’s bad attitude. Normally, Jensen liked a woman who was a bit more agreeable. And he never gave a woman the notion he wanted anything more than a mutually satisfying relationship of a few laughs, some good sex and easy companionship.
Somehow—and in a damned short amount of time—Marquetta Hayes had managed to wiggle her way around all the barriers he’d set up. And the funny thing was, she’d done it without really trying. Hell, come to that, she didn’t even want to have dinner with him. And yet he wanted her more than any woman he’d ever met. He couldn’t figure that out. She was frustrating the crap out of him.
Without warning, Jensen imagined her walking toward him, her long, sexy legs and the creamy perfection of her skin bared to him. Ah damn, he was getting hard, and he hadn’t even laid eyes on her since the day she’d kicked his ass out of her house. He barely knew her, and yet he felt some odd sense of déjà vu when he was near her. As if he’d known her all his life. It was too prickly for him to examine too closely.
Jason nudged him. “Stop thinking about her.”
“Who?” Jensen asked as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
Jason sighed. “You’ve been driving me nuts. I wish you’d just ask her out and get it out of your system.”
“I did. She wants nothing to do with me, remember?” As the minutes ticked by, he was suddenly struck with the odd sensation he was being watched. He turned around, then froze as he came face-to-face with Marquetta. Was she the talented artist? “What are you doing here?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and spoke in a slow, terse tone. “Are you stalking me, Kershaw?”
He rubbed his chin and frowned down at her. “Why is it I always feel as if I’m being chastised by my mother when I’m around you?”
“Answer the question,” she ground out.
“Don’t be so full of yourself, Hayes,” he replied. “I’m here for my motorcycle. Are you the artist?” He suddenly felt like an idiot, not connecting Marquetta’s last name with this shop.
She ignored him and glowered at Jason. “And you are…?”
Jason grinned like a love-struck teenager and held out h
is hand. “His brother, Jason.”
Marquetta didn’t shake it. No surprise there. She was as surly as ever. When her gaze connected with his once more, she said, “To answer your question, yes, I’m the artist. So, what can I do for you?”
He looked her up and down, purposely perusing her figure in a slow, calculated way. “Now that’s a loaded question.”
“I’m not interested, remember?” She rubbed her forehead. “I thought we settled all this already.”
He bent down until he was within an inch of her face and said, “Not even close.”
She had an urge to slap the smug grin right off him, but for some insane reason, she resisted. “Let’s focus on business. What is it you want done?”
“Well, I’ve got an idea in mind, but I’m not sure it’s doable.”
Marquetta quickly switched to artist mode. “Most anything is doable.” She headed toward a workbench on the other side of the room, and Jensen followed close behind, momentarily distracted by the sight of her ass in the tight jeans she wore. God, she was sexy.
When his brother cleared his throat, Jensen peered over at him. “What?”
“You have an audience, bro,” he said beneath his breath. Jason nodded toward the left, and Jensen noticed a pair of men standing there, wearing twin scowls. They were tall and built like a couple of linebackers. Both of them had grease-stained shirts and glared at him as if they’d like to toss him in the nearest barrel of oil. If Jensen didn’t miss his guess, he’d say they were related to Marquetta.
