Deadly Sexy by Beverly Jenkins
Reese wasn’t happy with the change in the cab’s atmosphere. As she sat looking out of the window, he could see the distance settling over her manner. The nice easy time they’d been having seemed on the verge of slipping away. “The reason I turned you down is because I’m not sure what I’ll be doing for work that weekend.” Which was technically the truth. He had no idea what he might be doing for the commissioner’s office. It crossed his mind that when they met again—and he was sure they would—he’d have some explaining to do.
“No problem. I understand.” She faced him in the faint glow thrown off by the small lights beneath their seats. “Thought I’d offended you.”
“No.”
Their gazes held. JT sensed time slowing, a sensation she’d never experienced before. Beneath all that chocolate fineness was a man she was becoming more and more curious about.
Suddenly, the cab began to shake violently, and whatever they were about to say was lost.
“What the hell!” Reese fought with the steering to keep the semi from leaving the road. “Hold on!”
The truck had taken on a life of its own, stubbornly resisting his efforts to bring it back under control. In his side mirror he could see headlights of the traffic behind him swerving wildly as cars tried to avoid rear-ending the truck or being totaled by it. Reese downshifted, working the clutch and the brake until the big eighteen-wheeler slowed enough for him to safely pull onto the road’s shoulder and stop.
Braced with her hand on the door, JT blew out a breath of grateful relief. “Lord.”
Reese’s adrenaline began to ebb. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Déjà vu.”
“Let’s hope not.” He reached beneath his seat and pulled out a flat tool chest and a flashlight. He checked his outside mirror for oncoming traffic before opening his door. “Be right back.”
JT sat in the quiet for a few moments, then decided to get out and join him. He might need help.
Mindful of her training under the steely eyes of Old Man Bowman, her high school automotive teacher, JT walked up but stayed silent. When a mechanic had his or her head under a raised hood, being surprised by another person’s presence was not a good thing.
That wasn’t the case here, however. He wasn’t under the hood. He was on the passenger side of the truck’s trailer crouched down beside an open panel that held the oddest looking engine she’d ever seen. He acknowledged her with a grim nod, then went back to peering into the works with the flashlight. A yellow lantern on the ground beside him added extra illumination.
“Thought you might need some help.”
He turned to her. “What do you know about engines?”
She wanted to smack him for the sexist question, but instead drawled, “I know that isn’t your standard Big Three issue.”
The surprise on his face almost made up for the crack.
“Took automotive shop in high school.”
Wonder filled his eyes.
JT smiled sweetly and asked, “So what kind of engine is it?”
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” he said, grinning, and took out his phone.
Amused, she shook her head.
His bad mood banished by their banter, Reese stood and spoke into the phone, but kept his vision on her. Lord, she was beautiful. Even in the dark. “Bryce. Pick up. I know you’re there.”
When Bryce did pick up, he wasn’t happy. “You caught me in the middle of someone. You and that damn truck better be on fire!”
“Sorry,” Reese laughed. Bryce was a genius, but he liked the honeys as much as he did equations. “No fire, but I’m having steering issues. Need you to figure out what it is.”
“Shit.”
“My sentiments too, but that’s not going to get me and the lady back to the Bay area.”
“What lady?”
“Never mind that, just tell me what to do.”
When the eavesdropping JT smiled in response, Reese met it with one of his own.
Following Bryce’s instructions, Reese pushed a button on the palm-sized computer docked on top of the engine then waited while Bryce ran a diagnostic from the laptop in his bedroom.
A fascinated JT was sure Old Man Bowman had never seen anything this high tech, and neither had she. “Where’s your brother?” she asked.
“Detroit.”
“Wow.”
“We call him Bryce the Brain. Graduated from MIT at sixteen. This is his baby.”
“He built the engine?”
“Yeah. It’s a prototype. Some kind of melding of solar components and computer chips. I don’t understand half the things he says, but he’s got a brain the size of Lake Michigan.”
“How old is he now?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Any other siblings?”
“Brother named Jamal.”
“He an egghead too?”
“In his own way. He builds what Bryce designs.”
JT blinked. A family of geniuses. “Are you as brainy as they are?”
“In my own way.”
The tone of his voice and the playfulness in his eyes made JT’s insides tingle, but she played it off by gazing up at the moon overhead. “Nice night.”
Reese grinned, then switched gears as Bryce’s voice came over the phone. The diagnostic had pinpointed the problem. One of the chips had burned out. Bryce was in the process of rerouting the system to bypass it. Once that was achieved he said, “Okay. You’re set. Let her sit for thirty minutes so everything can reboot. There shouldn’t be any more problems.”
“Thanks, man. My apologies to your guest.”
“Just hang up.”
Chucking, Reese ended the call. “Thirty minutes and we can roll,” he said to her.
“Good.” JT’s job involved dealing with drop dead gorgeous hunks on a regular basis, so she considered herself pretty much immune to men like Reese the Fine, but he was something. On the ride, they’d discussed sports, politics, music, and movies. He’d shown himself to be intelligent, funny, and so good to look at that as far as she was concerned he didn’t have to utter another word. But within the sexy, well-built trucker’s body beat the heart of a man with a good mind, and she liked that. This morning, if someone had told her that by nightfall she’d be mesmerized by a sweet walking trucker with eyes that were even now teasing her, she’d’ve asked to see their crack pipe.
Reese knew they should be getting back to the cab, but he couldn’t seem to move. The wind had come up, and under his silent scrutiny she brushed her hair back from her face. She was beautiful enough to light up the night, but her intelligence was the draw. He’d always had a thing for smart women, and the Lady Blake definitely qualified. “Sorry about the delay. I know you’re probably wanting to get home.”
“It’s okay. Stuff happens, and as I said, I’m enjoying the company.” The sounds of the traffic roaring by on the road could be heard, but JT paid it scant attention.
“Let me set some flares so we don’t get rear-ended.”
“Probably a good idea.” Their gazes were still locked, and for a breath of a second, and the first time in her life, JT wondered what it might be like to be someone else. Were she a nurse or a teacher, or a woman with a regular job, she didn’t think he’d have a problem pursuing whatever was bubbling up between them. She could almost envision herself as the woman he came home to after being out on the road; the woman who had his dinner waiting; the one he called late at night to let her know where he was and when he’d be returning. Grabbing hold of herself, she shook off the vision, mainly because it scared her to death. She didn’t have a Suzy Homemaker bone in her body. “I’ll wait for you in the truck.”
As she turned and strode away, Reese mused on Ms. JT Blake. The vibe flowing between them was sparking like a downed power line. Being a gentleman, he turned the beam of the flashlight in her direction, ostensibly to light her way back to the cab. In reality, he just wanted to watch the sister walk.
In the cab, JT told herself t
He reentered the cab a few moments later, and as he settled in, she asked, “All set?”
Reese nodded. Normally, he would have considered the thirty-minute wait a pain in the butt, but not this evening. Until the truck rebooted he’d be able to give her his undivided attention. He slid the toolbox and flashlight back under his seat. “My brothers are going to fall out when I tell them I had you in my cab.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re famous.”
“I’m just me.”
“I like just you.”
The timbre in his voice shook JT’s insides again, and in a tone far more nonchalant than she felt, she said, “You’re not so bad yourself. Your cherries aren’t too bad either.”
“I’ll make sure you get more.”
He seemed reluctant to break the contact but eventually turned his eyes to his mirror to check out the traffic. She continued to watch him. Who would have ever thought she’d feel a connection to a truck driver? In the middle of that mental question, her earpiece beeped. She answered, “Hey, Carole.”
“Everything okay? Where are you now?”
JT relayed their approximate location based on the last visible road sign. “We had engine trouble, but it’s been fixed.”
“Reese the Fine being a gentleman?”
“Completely.” JT turned his way and checked out the chiseled lines of his mahogany face. “I couldn’t be in better company.”
He graciously bowed his head.
“He’s kinda silly too.”
Showing a grin of his own, he took a sip from his bottled water.
“I won’t keep you,” Carole said. “Just wanted to let you know that the rental’s hooked up and waiting for you at the office. The dealership has picked up the Lex.”
“Good. Thanks for all the help. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Stay safe.”
In the quiet after the call, Reese wanted to tell her the truth about what he did for a living, but his doubts remained. He’d been having too nice a time to risk riding the rest of the way to Oakland with an angry, icy sister upset by his revelation, so he kept his mouth shut. “Do you have any siblings?” he asked her.
“A younger sister named Max.”
“She represent athletes too?”
“No. She works for the government.”
“You’re the oldest, then. So am I.”
“Being the oldest is okay, but it sucked sometimes when Max and I were young and my mother would say, ‘You’re the oldest. You should know better.’ Max was always getting us in trouble. Always.”
“Pinky and the Brain weren’t easy to have around either.”
She laughed. “‘Pinky and the Brain’? Is that what you call Jamal?”
“Yep. Hates the name, but he’s been called that for so long, not much he can do about it at this point.”
“That’s terrible.”
“He’s a big boy. He can handle it.”
“How old is he?”
“Thirty-five. He and Bryce are two years apart.”
JT found the story amusing. “Your mother must have had her hands full raising three boys.”
“She died when we were young.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Even though Veronica Anthony had passed away almost two decades ago, Reese still missed her.
“I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”
“I’m okay. My pops raised us. He’d love you.”
Surprise showed on her face. “Why?”
“He appreciates a lady with a brain.”
“And his oldest son?”
Reese ran appreciative eyes over her angular face and deep brown eyes and said, more softly than he’d intended, “Like father, like son.”
The vibe arched again.
JT found it hard to keep her voice casual. “Sounds like a family of very smart men. Maybe I’ll get to meet the rest one day.”
“Maybe. Ever been to Michigan?”
“I try and stay away from places where stuff freezes.”
He laughed. “It’s not too bad. You learn to deal with it. Never been cross-country skiing, then?”
“No.”
“You’d like it.”
“Probably not the cold, but I’m up for anything once.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Gazes were locked. Reese wanted to tease a finger down the flawless skin of her cheek, but he beat down the urge. In spite of the shared adventure, they were still strangers. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her or make her feel uncomfortable. To distract himself, he checked his watch. “We’ll give the engine another five minutes, then start her up. You want fresh water?”
JT’s bottle was just about empty. “Sure.”
He got up and went into the back, giving her the opportunity to check out the tight fit of his jeans as he moved by. Shaking her head with female appreciation, JT smiled and looked out at the night.
The patch Bryce had programmed into the engine held up nicely, allowing them to cover the rest of the miles without incident. She kept sneaking eyes at him, and he did the same. They talked, they laughed, and by the time the big rig slowed to a stop outside JT’s office in the Jack London Square area of Oakland, neither wanted the night to end.
JT slowly gathered her belongings. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” He knew that the penalty for kidnapping was nothing to play with, but he wanted her to stay so bad, he amusingly considered it. He took the card she handed him.
“You can send the cherries to that address, and call me if you like.” She meant it, but doubted he’d take her up on the offer. Two different worlds.
He slipped the card into the console beside him. “I may just do that.”
As if wanting to commit these last parting moments to memory, they drank in the sight of each other.
Though Reese knew he was flirting with a traffic ticket if he didn’t get the rig moving, he tried to delay her leaving. “You need me to go in with you?”
She shook her head. “I should be okay.”
He wanted her to be careful. The cop in him knew that the man responsible for sabotaging her car would probably make another attempt. People like that were rarely satisfied with one shot. “If you have any more trouble with that ex-employee, call the cops.”
“I will.”
Resigned to the inevitable, he said with feeling, “Been nice riding with you.”
“Same here.” She scooted over and placed a soft kiss on his dark cheek. “Thanks again.”
She was illuminated by the headlights as Reese watched her walk the short distance to the door of a gentrified storefront that butted up against a small soul food restaurant. She stuck keys into the locks, then opened the door. She went in and he saw lights go on. A few seconds later she stepped back out to wave good-bye. He gave her a few blasts from the horn and was rewarded with her smile. He waited until she went back inside before driving away. The sweet sting of her kiss was still fresh on his cheek. Unable to help himself, he touched the spot with all the happiness of a high school kid and grinned.
The CD player was bumping loud enough to be heard in San Diego as Bobby G3 reached his home in the Valley. The sight of Kelly’s beat-up black Chevy Cavalier parked out front curled his lip. Another bitch he wanted to pimp slap. She was his babymama, and he was not in the mood for her drama. He dro
“Your check bounced,” was the first thing out of her mouth. Back in the day, that mouth used to do anything he asked, and gladly. Now all it did was piss him off.
“I’ll fix it tomorrow.”
“That’s what you said last month.”
“Look,” he told her coldly, “I’m having cash flow issues. The check will be good by the end of business tomorrow.”
She scanned his face by the light of the halogens attached to the garage. “What kind of trouble you in now, Bobby?”
He had to admit she knew him well, but he wasn’t telling her a damn thing. “Just take your ass home, Kelly. I don’t need you in my business.”
“Apparently you need somebody in it if your support check is bouncing. Aren’t you the one with the million-dollar clients?”
“Go home to your grease monkey, Kelly. He’s calling.”
“Don’t you dare dis him!” she shot back angrily. “He’s making an honest living at the garage. He’s also clothing and feeding your son, or have you forgotten that?”
Bobby began walking to the house.
“Send me my money by the end of the week or I’m dragging your ass to court. See how your clients like that!” She stormed off.
He went inside and slammed the door.
Preparing for bed, Matt Wenzel stared at himself in the mirror. The idea that the truth about what happened a few nights back could somehow come to light and drag him down to hell scared him to death. His hands shook as he reached for his toothbrush, and it took a couple of tries to place the glob of toothpaste on the bristles. He’d be the first to admit that he’d never had much of a spine. His father, Big Bo, had kept those genes to himself, or so it seemed. Matt had just enough spine to walk upright, Big Bo often pointed out. In the past, Matt failed to see the humor in the dig, but in this instance it proved true. How does a person sleep at night after seeing a person’s head blown away? Every time he closed his eyes, he saw blood. Everywhere. The police were calling the incident a botched robbery, but he knew better. His hands still shaking, he finished brushing, then padded back into the bedroom.