in a way that told Parker the computer was not her friend. She stopped, sized Parker up over the top of a pair of bright green cheaters. "Help you?"
"Yes, thanks. I'm here to pick up Emmaline Grant's car."
"You Parker Brown?"
"Yes."
"She called, said you'd be coming to get it."
When the woman made no move, just continued to stare over the tops of her glasses, Parker smiled politely. "Would you like to see some identification?"
"No. She said what you looked like when I asked, and you look like what she said."
"Well then, if I could see the bill?"
"I'm working on it." The woman shifted on the stool, pecked at the keys again. "You can sit right down there. It won't take me long. Take less time if I could just write it out on an invoice pad, but Mal has to have it this way."
"All right."
"Vending machines through that door there if you want something to drink."
Parker thought of her client, and the distance to the bridal boutique, the traffic. "You said it wouldn't take long."
"It won't. I'm just saying . . . What does this demon from hell want from me?" The woman raked long red nails through her orange frizzy hair. "Why won't it just spit the damn thing out?"
"May I . . ." Parker leaned over the counter, scanned the screen. "I think I see the problem. Just point and click here, with the mouse." She tapped the screen. "Good. Now see where it says Print? Click that. There you go. Now click on Okay."
Parker leaned back as the printer clicked into life. "There you go."
"Click this, click that. I can never remember which click comes first." But she looked over the counter and smiled for the first time. Her eyes were as bold and engaging a green as the frames of her cheaters.
"Appreciate it."
"No problem."
Parker took the bill, sighed a little as she ran down the work. New battery, tune-up, timing, oil change, fan belts, tire rotation, brake pads. "I don't see the charge for the detailing."
"No charge. First-time customer. Complimentary."
"Very nice." Parker paid the bill, then tucked her copy in a pocket of her bag. She took the key. "Thank you."
"Welcome. Come back when you need to."
"I believe I will."
Outside, she walked toward Emma's car, clicking the key lock as she went.
"Hey, hey, hold it."
She stopped, turned. She recognized the legs, hips, torso she'd seen under the belly of the car in the garage. This view added chest and shoulders. The light spring breeze fluttered through dark hair - that needed a trim - disordered either from work or carelessness. She supposed it suited the strong, sharp lines of his face, and the dark stubble that indicated he hadn't picked up a razor in a day or two. She took it all in quickly, just as she took in the hard set of his mouth and the hot green of eyes that transmitted temper.
She'd have looked down her nose if she hadn't been forced to look up when he stopped in front of her. She angled her head up, met his eyes with hers, and said in her coolest tone, "Yes?"
"You think all it takes is a key and a driver's license?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your battery cables were covered with corrosion, your oil was sludge. Your tires were low and your brake pads damn near shot. I bet you slather yourself with some fancy cream every day of your life."
"Excuse me?"
"But you can't bother to get your car serviced. Lady, this car was a disgrace. You probably spent more on those shoes than you have on maintaining it."
Her shoes? Her shoes were none of his damn business. But she kept her tone bland - insultingly bland. "I appreciate that you have passion for your work, but I doubt your boss would approve of the way you speak to customers."
"I am the boss, and I'm fine with it."
"I see. Well, Mr. Kavanaugh, you have an interesting business manner. Now, if you'll excuse me."
"There's no excuse for the way you've neglected this vehicle. I've got it up and running for you, Ms. Grant, but - "
"Brown," she interrupted. "That's Ms. Brown."
He narrowed his eyes as he studied her face. "Del's sister. Should've seen it. Who's Emmaline Grant?"
"My business partner."
"Fine. Pass on what I said to her. It's a good car. It deserves better."
"Be sure I will."
She reached for the door, but he beat her to it, opened it for her. She got in, placed her bag on the seat