* * *
I slid my heels off and crowded into my car, turning the engine over. My heart pounded and I was thankful for the opportunity to get out of that pressure cooker and regroup. Don’t think about all that right now, I commanded myself. Right now, all you need to worry about is getting home and figuring out why that alarm is going off. My Volvo sweltered with the trapped heat of late June sunshine, and I unbuttoned and shrugged off my blouse while simultaneously rolling down the windows. I wore a thin white slip underneath and the kiss of the breeze on my skin relieved the humidity immediately.
Clutching the wheel and putting the car in gear, I rolled down the street, all the possibilities circling in my head.
Before I could clear the block, my car froze up and the steering wheel seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. I wrenched with both hands but I could barely turn it anymore. “Shit!” I cried, frantically and ineffectually twisting at the wheel. “No, come on! Not tonight!”
I drifted to the side of the road and bleakly put the car into park. Shit. I was stranded in the goddamn downtown of Pelham, several minutes away from my home, which was currently being robbed. Great.
Headlights filled my rearview mirror, and a massive Dodge truck parked behind me.
A broad silhouette came swaggering through the lights. I knew who it was by the proud shimmy of those hips alone.
“This is a sign, you know,” he called through my open driver’s side window. I wanted to scramble back into my blouse but I knew that would look ridiculously prudish to Andrew.
“I don’t believe in signs,” I said instead.
“Clearly.” He gestured to the No Parking signs running up and down this side of the street and grinned. “Want me to take a look?”
“I bet you’d love that,” I blurted.
“I’m not having any wet dreams about Volvo engines, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Andrew braced his forearms on my car door and peered in at me.
“You won’t be having any wet dreams about me, either,” I countered with a sniff. I knew what he really wanted. I knew what he was really inviting me to do when he asked to work on my car. He was hoping for a blowjob this time. A strip tease. It was my fault. I’d set the precedent. Now I had to reset it.
But Andrew scoffed at me and took his forearms off the car door. He pulled himself to a full stand. “You don’t know me, woman. What happened between us was—a one-time thing. You were right: it was a huge mistake. For this, I’ll bill you. Okay?”
My heart inexplicably sank, even though I guess it was exactly what I wanted.
“You know what?” I crossed my arms over my breasts and shook my head, breaking eye contact with him. “That’s all right. This happens all the time. This is a thoroughly used car. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“But I thought there was a home invasion in progress? Aren’t you in a hurry? I’m a mechanic,” he said, bracing one hand on my door and another on my door handle. “And I’m right here.”
I closed my eyes and nodded. His logic was airtight. “I can’t seem to turn my steering wheel anymore. It’s very heavy,” I explained.
“Let me get in there and take a look.” Andrew took the liberty of swinging open my driver’s side door. I moved to get out, but he stooped beneath the steering wheel at the same time. I flattened my back against the driver’s seat and spread my legs unintentionally, just trying to keep him from touching my skin. He glanced up at me. “Does this thing ever whistle at you when you’re on it?”
“Oh, ha, ha,” I snarked at him from above my widespread legs. “Be serious.”
“I am being serious! I think your steering pump is loose. I might be able to do some work on this tonight if you wouldn’t mind parking at my place.”
“At your place?” I repeated incredulously. “Is that where mechanics do business now?”
Andrew let out an exasperated breath and placed one palm down on the inside of my thigh. I bristled. “Michelle,” he said, sounding unexpectedly calm. “Look at me. Look at me.” I glared down at him. “Let’s just forget that we ever had sex, okay? I’ll forget about it. I’ll never mention it again. It will never happen again. Okay? Are we okay now?”
My relief mixed with a toxic sort of bitterness, and I hesitated before a final nod. “I guess,” I allowed. “Okay.”
“Before I had my own garage, I worked from home,” Andrew explained. I stewed in my own mortification at how positive I’d been that this man would do anything to get me spread on a desk again. He did seem perfectly nice. In fact, what little interest he had in me had probably been dashed away by my shrill certainty that he wanted to plant more seeds in my uterus. “It’s my purely professional opinion that you should allow me to tow this vehicle to my garage for some more work—I mean, just work, not more work, because we just met and have never met before—because I’ve got a tow hook on my truck right now, and I’m just a couple miles that-a-way. Then I can take you to check out your house.” Andrew crawled from the floorboard of my front seat and pulled himself erect again, stretching out a hand to pull me from the vehicle next. “And I’ll completely forget the way,” he promised.