He shook his head. "No deal."
She never told anyone about her dad's car. For all her friends knew, he was simply paranoid about the family sedan. But it was a bargaining chip to top all bargaining chips, the ace in the hole, the guaranteed result-getter. Besides, Sam was a cop; it probably wouldn't hurt to have him in the loop, so he would know that her garage needed protecting at all times. The car was insured for a fortune, but it was also irreplaceable.
"I'll let you see my dad's car if you let me see your truck," she said slyly.
Despite himself, he looked interested. Probably her expression told him that her dad's car was out of the ordinary.
"What kind is it?"
She shrugged. "I don't say the words out in public." He leaned down and offered his ear to her. "Whisper them."
She put her mouth against his ear and felt faint from the warm male scent that wafted to her nostrils again. She whispered two words.
He straightened so abruptly he bumped her nose. "Ouch!" She rubbed the aching tip.
"Let me see it," he said hoarsely.
She crossed her arms, mimicking his earlier position. "Do we have a deal? You see my dad's car, and I see your truck?"
"Hell, you can drive my truck!" He turned and looked at her garage as if it were the Holy Grail. "It's in there?"
"Safe and secure."
"It's an original? Not a kit?"
"Original."
"Man," he breathed, already striding to the garage. "I'll get the key." She dashed inside for the key to the padlock, and returned to find him waiting impatiently. "Be careful and open the door just enough to slide through," she cautioned. "I don't want it seen from the street."
"Yeah, yeah." He took the key from her and inserted it in the padlock.
They entered the dark garage, and Jaine fumbled for the light switch. The overheads came on, illuminating the low- slung, tarp-covered hump.
"How did he get it?" Sam asked in a half whisper, as if he were in church. He reached for the edge of the tarp. "He was on the development team."
He gave her a sharp look. "Your dad is Lyle Bright?" She nodded an admission.
"Man," he sighed, and lifted the tarp.
A low moan broke from his throat.
She knew how he felt. She always felt a little breathless herself when she looked at the car, and she had grown up with it.
It wasn't particularly flashy. The automobile paints back then hadn't had the shine of today's paints. It was a kind of silvery gray, spare, without the luxuries so taken for granted by today's consumer. There wasn't a cup holder in sight.
"Man," he said again, bending to look at the instrumentation. He was careful not to touch the car. Most people, ninety-nine out of a hundred, couldn't have resisted. Some would have been brash enough to swing a leg over the low frame and slide into the driver's seat. Sam treated the car with the reverence it deserved, and an odd sensation squeezed her heart. She felt a little light- headed, and everything in the garage began to fade out of focus except for his face. She concentrated on breathing, blinking fast, and in a moment the world clicked back into place.
Wow. What was that all about?
He re-covered the car as tenderly as a mother covers a sleeping infant. Wordlessly he fished his keys out of his jeans pocket and held them out to her.
She took them, then looked down at her clothes. "I'm wet."
"I know," he replied. "I've been looking at your nipples." Her mouth fell open, and she quickly clamped her hands over the pertinent portions of her wet T-shirt. "Why didn't you say something?" she demanded hotly.
He made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. "What, you think I'm crazy?"
"It would serve you right if I drove your truck without changing clothes!"
He shrugged. "After you let me see this, plus your nipples, I guess I owe you."
She started to argue that she hadn't let him see her nipples, that he had looked without her permission; then she remembered that she had seen a lot more than his nipples that morning and decided not to bring up the subject.
Like he was going to give her the choice. "Besides," he pointed out, "you saw my cock. That has to be worth more points than nipples."
"Hah," she said. "Value is in the eye of the beholder. And I did tell you to cover up, if you'll remember."
"After you'd watched for how long?"
"Only long enough to call Mrs. Kulavich and get your number," she said self-righteously because it was the truth. So what if she'd had to chat with Mrs. Kulavich for a minute? "And you didn't seem to think it was important enough to cover up. No, you waved it around like you were starting a race with it."
"I was enticing you."
"You were not! You didn't know I was looking." He arched an eyebrow.
She threw the keys back at him. "I wouldn't drive your truck now if you begged me! It probably has cooties in it! You lech, you disgusting… disgusting penis-waver – " He fielded the keys with one hand. "Are you saying you weren't enticed?"
She started to tell him she hadn't felt even a twinge of enticement, but her tongue refused to utter what would have been the biggest lie of her life.
He smirked. "Thought so."
There was only one way to recover the upper hand. Jaine put her hands on her hips, letting her nipples thrust against the thin wet layers of bra and T-shirt. Like a laser- guided missile, his gaze homed in on the front of her shirt. She saw him swallow.
"You don't play fair," he said thickly.