Dirty Dealer - Kacey Shea Page 0,5
given the circumstances it couldn’t be helped. Reaching into my center console, I pop open the bag of candy I picked up from the gas station and rip off the wrapper. I check my reflection in the mirror and chuckle. The white paper stick protruding from my pursed lips definitely kills my badass vibe, but I can’t find it in me to care. I have a sweet tooth, not to mention a bit of an oral fixation. Sue me.
Twenty minutes and five lollipops later, I inch toward the vehicle responsible for today’s traffic jam. I kinda feel sorry for the poor sucker. Drivers ahead throw up their middle fingers and shout obscenities as they finally pass.
I get ready to increase my speed too when I’m rendered temporarily immobile.
Whoa. Fuck me.
Who is this? Standing at the side of the freeway like a desert mirage pulled directly from my most erotic fantasies, I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s fucking gorgeous, even if she looks ten seconds from crying.
Her car—no, more like boat—is parked in the narrow emergency lane, but the Buick’s wide back end sticks out into the right lane—the cause of this little traffic hiccup. The hood is popped, but this beauty in distress paces near the rear of her busted down vehicle. With her phone to her ear and her attention on the vehicle, I take a moment to study her features. Long dark hair. Tan skin. Curves for days. Her lips, painted in a ruby red that matches the tight skirt of her dress, is reminiscent of a pinup girl, and stirs a wave of desire below my belt.
I’m jolted from my perusal by the blare of a car horn behind me. Shit. While I’ve been staring, traffic has moved, but instead of closing the empty roadway before me, I flip on my hazards and pull in behind her.
She leans against the concrete barrier wall, distress in her scowl as I step out of my SUV and maneuver safely to stand before her. Her hand grips her cell phone. Her gaze is wary.
“Car trouble?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I help?”
“Unless you’re a mechanic”—her gaze travels down my designer three-piece suit—“and I’m gonna guess that’s a no, then not really.”
“It’s dangerous out here.”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get a tow.” Her lips press together and that expression—the one in which she looks seconds from crying, is back.
I take a step closer. “Let me guess. No one picking up?”
“Yeah, that and one guy said he couldn’t get here for another four hours.” She drags in a breath and blinks rapidly. I don’t know her, but something about the gesture tugs at my heartstrings. I want to take away her stress. “I have to be on set in thirty minutes.”
Ah. I should’ve guessed. She’s too beautiful. “Actress?”
“God, no!” She laughs, but it’s humorless. She glances at her vehicle before meeting my gaze again. “Anyway, I appreciate you stopping, but I’ve got this.”
A smirk grows across my lips. I like her little miss independent ruse. It’s adorable, even if it’s unnecessary. “You don’t look like you do.”
“Excuse me?” Her nostrils flare, her eyebrows shoot up, and one delicate hand goes to her cocked hip. If she could breathe fire, I’d be torched. “Might be shit luck, but I can certainly handle calling a tow truck without the help of a big, strong man.” Those last words fly from her lips with the assistance of an exaggerated eye roll.
Hmm. This damsel in distress isn’t playing games. She’s not looking for a savior, either. With those two realizations my infatuation with her grows tenfold. I’d even bet she has no clue who I am. I have to fight back my smile as I meet her challenging glare. “But you’ll be late for work.”
Her jaw clenches. “I’ll have to call out.”
“See. Told you I could help.” I snap my fingers and flash her my most beloved smile—the one that always gets me what I want. “Where you working today? Americana or JD Studios?”
She blinks, annoyed, and maybe a little impressed. I’ve dated a few actresses in my day, and it’s not as if most locals don’t already know where all the big film studios are. “Americana.”
“Perfect.” I’m headed to Burbank, and Americana is on the way. Besides, I’m hours ahead of schedule. It’s no hardship playing chauffeur to this sexy woman. It gives me an excuse to win her over, get her number, and if I’m lucky, spend the night showing her how big and strong I really