My plan was to shop those high-ticket cars from the get-go to alert the big man that a deep-pocket customer was on the lot . . . and I might have worn a skirt that was shorter than the typical one, a pair of heels higher than the average pair, and a blouse a bit tighter than most. Basically, if he didn’t get the message that a high profile customer was there, I hoped he’d catch the other message.
I pulled up to Tucker Automotive to find a semi-sized sign with the tagline Shop the rest, then come visit the best alongside a photo of Mr. Tucker himself. I resisted the temptation to plow my rental car right through the billboard and proceeded to the parking lot. After I finished the Errand, if I still wanted to destroy that monstrosity, I could. That wasn’t exactly the way I was hoping to catch Mr. Tucker’s attention.
A small herd of salesmen in white dress shirts and red ties stood around the main building when I pulled up. I’d no more than put the car in park and every one of them was staring at me as if they were ready to pounce. I was contemplating how to steer clear of the rabid white-shirts when a flashy red sports car pulled into the spot beside me. A flashy red Corvette.
Bingo.
If that was a sign as to how the rest of the Errand would go, it would be a breeze. As I slid out of my car, I grabbed my purse, gave my hair a quick rumple, and played oblivious to the man crawling out of the hard-to-miss car beside me. I started up to the main building, but before I’d gotten to the curb, a low whistle came from the turd of a human to my left.
“This is a car dealership, sweetheart, not Heaven’s gates, you know.” Mr. Tucker’s voice was, as suspected, overly confident and had a deep baritone quality to it.
I already knew where he was going with this whole “wow” greeting, but I played along. “What makes you think I’m looking for Heaven’s gates?” I glanced at him as I stepped up on the curb.
“You’re an angel, aren’t you?” Mr. Tucker settled his hands on his h*ps as a slow smile moved into place.
I had dark sunglasses on, so I allowed myself an eye-roll. His eyes, however, weren’t hidden behind sunglasses, and he wasn’t shy about checking me out hardcore. His gaze circled my br**sts long enough I was tempted to remove my sunglasses and zero in on his crotch to see how he liked a stranger checking his goods out for that long. Then I realized a slug like Mr. Tucker would probably get off from a young woman checking out his (anti) goods.
“That’s the first time anyone’s ever called me an angel,” I replied, knowing the role I needed to play, and it wasn’t getting offended because the Target was eye-motor-boating my boobs. That he was doing that so early was a good sign that I wouldn’t need much time or persuasion to get him into a “compromising” situation.
“Oh? What do they usually call you?” Mr. Tucker came around the front of his Corvette and stopped a few feet from me. “Because a guy can’t help but want to call you something, sweetheart.”
Other than sweetheart, you un-original creep? “Fiend seems to be in the top running.”
Mr. Tucker lifted an eyebrow, his snaky smile still glued in place. “And why would people call you a fiend?”
I gave him a tilted smile. “That’s a question for my ex-lovers to answer.”
Mr. Tucker stepped closer. “I’ve always been more of a fiend fan than an angel fan.”
“Then it’s nice to meet you . . .” I extended my hand and waited.
“Rob Tucker. CEO, President, and Owner of this dealership, as well as six others. Soon-to-be seven when the Miami store opens next month.” He wrapped his hand around mine tightly before giving it a powerful shake. We were barely out of the gates, and he was already asserting his power over me. Classic beater behavior. “And what’s a girl like you named? Other than fiend?” His index finger stroked the inside of my wrist, but the rest of his hand stayed locked around mine.
“Fiona. My name’s Fiona.”
“Fiona Fiend, eh?” Rob pulled on my hand to bring me closer to him. When I was close enough to detect his spicy cologne, he leaned in. “Now that’s the kind of name a man wants to curse when he’s f**king a girl.”
Humanity never failed to amaze me. There I was, a stranger one minute ago, and he was whispering about f**king while a half dozen of his employees watched us with rapt interest. Employees who knew he was married with two kids. I doubt he’d care if they watched him bend me over the hood of his fancy car if I gave him the green light.
All of the men I worked with deserved what they had coming, but some deserved it most. Rob Tucker had just earned the blue ribbon for most deserving. I couldn’t wait to bring the bastard down.
“You’re right.” I slid my sunglasses on top of my head so I could lock onto his eyes. “Fiona does have a certain ring to it when a man grunts it out as I come around him.”
Rob’s pupils dilated as he wet his lips. The Target was mine. I owned him. Just like that, in a handful of words and looks, along with a tower of innuendoes, I could name the time and place, and he’d be there an hour early.
“And where do I sign up for that ride?”
“I don’t know. Do you think you meet the minimum size requirements to ride that ride?” I lifted my eyebrows before glancing at his zipper.
“If you’ve got a maximum size requirement, that’s where I might be in trouble.” He popped his h*ps forward so I could make out the tell-tale bulge behind his khakis.
I realized Rob wasn’t only a dickhead, he was practically dickless. Maximum size requirements my butt. “Before we go any further discussing that ride, I need a different kind first.”
Rob’s eyes went wide again as his twisted mind started jumping for joy at the possibilities. Time to rein him in. Two steps forward, one step back. It was a game of finesse, and knowing when to pull back was just as critical as knowing when to surge forward.
Shifting my gaze to the car lot, I pulled my hand free of his. “I need a new car. Something nice, expensive but understated. Not exactly like the head-turner you drive.”
“You turn enough heads without the car.” Rob nudged me as he slid beside me. “You certainly turned my head. Both of them.”
Too bad my sunglasses weren’t back in place—I really could have used an eye-roll. “Are you going to sell me a car or keep trying to seduce me?”
“That depends. Is the seducing working?”
If that’s what you call seducing, you need to fire your seduction instructor. “No, because seducing doesn’t work on me. When I see what I want, I take it. Whether I want a man or not has nothing to do with his ability to seduce me. I’m un-seducible.” I smiled to myself. That was true. I couldn’t be seduced by any man—because I knew every last trick in the book. Identifying a seduction angle was easy when I’d worked every single one multiple times.
“And what about me? Am I one of those men you want?” There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice. It was barely a question.
I glanced at him as I headed for a gunmetal Aston Martin. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
Rob followed me, sliding his hands into his pockets. Probably attempting to disguise a hard-on that didn’t really need to be disguised since it was barely detectable. “You don’t need to let me know anything, Fiona. You can just rip off your clothes and f**k my brains out when you’re ready to admit that you feel the same animal attraction to me that I feel toward you.”
Men used the term animal attraction as an excuse for wanting to screw a woman they’d just laid their eyes on. It wasn’t animal attraction. Animals had more discretion than that. It was nothing more than a case of a degenerate human wanting to add another mark to his tally. In his imagination, he’d already scratched that mark into his bedpost.
“I want to test drive this.” I stopped beside the Aston and crossed my arms.
He waited, probably hoping I’d go a few rounds on the animal attraction topic he was so eager to discuss. A few moments later, he accepted defeat. “That’s a hundred and seventy-five thousand dollar car.”
I tilted my head. “Do I look like I’m flinching?”
“Gorgeous and wealthy? My dick just grew another inch.”
What Rob Tucker called inches, the rest of the world called millimeters.
“I’ll run and grab the keys so we can take this baby out for a spin. You want to wait here or come with me?” Rob asked as he started across the lot.
“I’ll wait here. Something tells me if I went with you, your interest in getting the Aston keys would shift to getting my skirt up around my waist.” I leaned my hip into the Aston and gave him a hint of a smile.
“Skirt at your waist, panties at your ankles. That’s the way I like my girls.”
Twisting to the side, I lifted my skirt just enough to show off the side of my leg from hip to ankle. “Too bad I don’t wear any panties. I hope that doesn’t mess with your panties-at-the-ankles fantasy too much.”
He did an exaggerated shiver before jogging toward the main building. “Only makes it better.”
As I waited for Rob to return, I slid the Callahan business phone Henry had given me from my purse. I didn’t know why—I needed to concentrate on the Tucker Errand since I’d just been exchanging sexual advances with the Target—but I was checking for messages before my better judgment could wag her finger at me.
Could I change your title from R&D Program Manager to CEO? I’m over it.
Despite trying not to, I smiled. I convinced myself that the only reason I was smiling was because Henry was texting me from Korea when he was supposed to be asleep. That meant I was getting to him. I certainly wasn’t smiling because I enjoyed our game of back-and-forth.
I suppose. But I’ll only assume the power and wealth of the position. I won’t take on the headaches and obviously sleepless nights.
Rob was crossing the parking lot toward me, so I put the phone back and tried to wipe the caught-with-my-hand-in-the-cookie jar expression from my face. The instant I slipped the phone in my purse, I heard a new message chime.
“You think you can handle this baby?” Rob patted the Aston’s trunk as he approached me. “There’s a lot of power underneath that hood. It might be hard for a girl to handle.”
If he called me girl again, I might have to knock out his front teeth. I grabbed the key as I headed for the driver’s side. “Not this one.” I didn’t wait for him to buckle up before starting the car and punching it into gear.
“You ever driven a car this nice?” Rob clicked his seatbelt into place, sounding a bit unsure. It was the first time he’d sounded anything but arrogant. That probably had something to do with me zipping out of the dealership at forty.
“I’ve driven nicer. Much nicer.”
I sped down the road the dealership was on, weaving in and out of traffic. By the time I’d hit the interstate, Rob was gripping the armrest as if he was about to die. I grinned.
“Nicer than this? That’s hard to do,” Rob said a while later. He’d finally relaxed enough it didn’t look as though he was about to tear off the armrest.