Asking For It (43 page)

"Good," Ricky said, and pulled her hips close to his.

"Ricky..." Just before she gave herself completely to his tender seduction, she thought of her last sight of her boss and Kate when they'd all said goodnight at the door of Kate's cabin. Deirdre had seen Griffith's hand gripping Kate's close, as if afraid of letting her go. "Ricky," she asked. "Do you suppose Kate and Griffith are going to be all right, too?"

"I have no idea," Ricky said roughly, while palming Deirdre's rear. "And right now I don't care."

~~~

"You know, this is totally fulfilling a fantasy of mine," Griffith said, rolling off of Kate. They'd collapsed in her bed, supposedly to sleep, but had ended up stripping off their clothes and making mad love despite their mutual exhaustion.

Kate was still panting. "Your fantasies are reassuringly tame."

"Not if you take into account that was the first time I got to be on top." On his side now, Griffith hooked a leg over Kate's knees. "But sex isn't what I was talking about. I meant the fantasy of making love here." Griffith used his leg to give Kate a tug. "In your bed."

Kate patted the leg Griffith had over her knees. "I didn't know that was a fantasy of yours."

"Bull." Griffith grinned. "You always made sure to say goodbye very firmly at the door. All those nights we had to rough it under the oak tree."

"You're saying I was withholding?"

"Uh... Yup."

Kate laughed. "I suppose I was."

And now
? Kate could see the question in Griffith's gray eyes, but he didn't ask it. Instead he gave another little tug with his leg. "I'm going to New York next week."

Something fluttered under her breastbone. He was leaving? "Ahem. Oh?" she asked.

He smiled. "To visit my mother. Wanna come?"

Kate's eyes widened.

"Which part is surprising: that I have a mother or that I'm going to visit her?"

"Neither. Uh — " Kate swallowed. "I guess the part where you ask me to come along."

"Oh." Griffith's steady gaze dropped to where he rubbed a lock of Kate's hair between his fingers. "That make you nervous?"

"Um..." He had to ask?

Curling her hair around his finger, Griffith admitted, "I won't say you shouldn't be. Once my mother gets a load of you, she'll be all over me to put a ring on your finger. And if I manage to do that, she'll be clamoring night and day for grandkids."

Kate stared at Griffith.

He flicked his gaze to her eyes. "I'm no bargain. Gotta lot of baggage and bad habits, but...I'm learning. And I really love you, Kate. You don't actually have to marry me if you come to New York with me, but — " He pulled a little on her hair. "I'd sure like your company. And for you to meet my mom." He paused, adding very low. "And for you to marry me."

Kate closed her parted lips. She touched her forehead to Griffith's. He was a hero, in more ways than she'd ever dreamed. Could she accept that, or that he, such a good guy, actually wanted her? She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling happiness like a bubbling, way down low. Dare she let it come flowing up?

Kate pulled her head back. She looked straight into Griffith's gray eyes. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I'd love to come to New York with you. Yes, I'm nervous about meeting your mother. And..."

She hesitated.
Was
she ready?
Could
she accept this as the gift it was? She took a deep breath. "And yes, I'll marry you."

Griffith drew in a sharp breath, then shouted. Wrapping her in his arms, he whirled with her right out of the bed. "Yes!" he clamored. "I love that word, yes." He pulled Kate close and gave her a deep and hungry kiss.

"I want to live here," he said, abruptly releasing her from the kiss. "Right here in this cabin."

"Really?" Kate raised her eyebrows. "It's kinda far from L.A."

"Exactly." Griffith laughed.

"Well, I suppose nowadays you can get a lot done with just a telephone and a computer, but Griffith, we don't have telephone or Internet up here."

"You will, doll." Griffith tugged her close again. "You're going to have the best telephone service and the highest speed Internet access available."

"Oh, dear," Kate said.

"We'll need it to complete construction of those new cabins on the accelerated schedule I worked out," Griffith explained.

"Oh, dearie dear."

"But don't worry, sweetheart." Griffith's smile warmed. "I won't be using the phone or the computer once the whistle blows."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Kate shook her head affectionately. She knew who she was dealing with.

"Believe it." With a happy, possibly wicked, sparkle in his eye, Griffith reached out for the satellite phone Kate had set on her bureau top. He set the switch to 'off' and put it on the night table. "Let's go back to bed, Kate."

Laughing, Kate put her arms around him. "And sleep late?" she asked.

"And sleep very late," Griffith agreed.

THE END

About the Author

Alyssa Kress completed her first novel at age six, an unlikely romance between a lion and a jackal. Despite earning two degrees from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and spending nearly a decade in the construction industry, she's yet to see her feet stay firmly on the ground. She now lives in Southern California, together with her husband and two children.

You can learn more about Alyssa Kress and her other novels at
http://www.alyssakress.com
.

Other books by Alyssa Kress
:

Marriage by Mistake

The Heart Heist

The Indiscreet Ladies of Green Ivy Way

Preview of Love and the Millionairess

She was the sweetest thing Mitch had ever seen.

From his position standing under a '05 Volvo on the mechanic's lift, Mitch watched her cool, cream-colored lines as she sailed into his garage. His heart leapt in his chest. Man, oh man oh man.

Two hundred and ninety-four horsepower, 4.2 liter engine, all packing speed in a feather-light aluminum frame, the Jaguar XK8 pulling in was a car to make any red-blooded male gasp for breath. She could do 0 to 60 in 6.3 seconds. She could round corners like hugging. She was power, class, and beauty, all wrapped in one.

Go ahead and look
. Mitch's mouth quirked. Yeah, looking wasn't going to cost him anything, but a working class bum like himself wasn't likely to do more than that. After buying this garage two years ago, there wasn't enough left over to get a new Volkswagen, let alone a Jag. So Mitch hung one hand on the side of the lift and looked his fill.

Meanwhile the XK8 purred into the empty berth next to the lifted Volvo, shuddered inelegantly, and with a horrible rattling sound, died.

Oh, that was sad. Lowering his wrench, Mitch started to hunch out from under the side beam of the lift. Then the driver side door of the XK8 clicked open. Mitch came to a complete halt. In fact it was all he could do to keep breathing as a woman every bit the match to her car stepped out.

Power, class, and beauty. She wore a skirt suit that skimmed her curves with well-tailored ease. High heels gave an accented end to some long, long legs, and her cream-blond hair was pulled into a sleek and elegant twist. She came to a stand by the side of her car, spine straight, a calfskin briefcase in one hand, and her long-lashed eyes looking around with an expression of incredulous dismay.

Mitch's heart had leapt for the Jag. That was nothing compared to what it did now, even though the woman's expression said what she thought of his humble, if excellent, garage, even though normally he wasn't any kind of a lech -- and even though cool, unapproachable females weren't his type, not at all.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help swallowing as he ducked under the side beam of the lift. The lady truly was magnificent, all silk and steel and cream. And God knew it had been a while.

"Hey," he said. Pulling up his best smile, he grabbed a rag out of his back pocket to wipe the grease off his hands. "Good morning there."

She turned at the sound of his voice. Smoky gray eyes hit his, and Mitch had to stop moving again. He could feel the affable smile fade from his face. Man, she was -- He didn't know. She looked like she could chew nails...or tangle hot sheets all night.

"Good morning," she said, and raised her elegant eyebrows a haughty fraction of an inch.

Chew nails, Mitch decided. From somewhere, he retrieved his aw-shucks grin. "So what can I do for you today?"

The woman spared a glance toward her silent car. "That's...unclear."

It was? The car had died. He was a mechanic. What Mitch could do for her seemed obvious.

With the same haughty expression, the woman turned back to Mitch. "It's been three weeks, and I've been through four repair shops. Tell me, is there really anything you can do for me...that they couldn't, that is?"

Mitch's face froze. Okay, so she'd been to four repair shops, but that didn't give her the right to lump Mitch in with all the low-life know-nothings in the business. "I can fix your car," he rumbled.

She raised one slim, disbelieving eyebrow.

Mitch felt a jolt of anger. Though the place didn't look like much of anything -- he couldn't afford to make it pretty or slick -- he worked hard and took pride in doing a good job. A few of his customers even said he had talent. Mitch didn't know about that, but he never claimed to be able to fix something he couldn't. "The problem is the IAC," he told her.

The woman blinked her eyes slowly. "Never heard of it."

Yeah, well why would you have? You're not the one who learned how to work on engines in the Army, and went on to gain ten more years of experience back in the States
. Mitch stuffed his rag into his back pocket. "It's the idle air control solenoid. Look, I saw you drive in, I saw the way it died. That's what's malfunctioning."

The woman smiled, cool and contemptuous. "And if it's not?"

"Excuse me?"

"If it's not the idle air whatever?"

Mitch put his hands on his hips. Boy, did she know how to push his buttons. "If it isn't the IAC, I'll fix your Jag for free."

This seemed to make an impression on her, rippling the cool, composed features of her face. But it didn't take long before she took up the faintly haughty smile again. "All right," she said.

"All right?"

"I'll let you fix my car -- with those conditions. If you're wrong, it's free."

Mitch felt a probably dangerous satisfaction. Oh yeah, he was good, and it probably was the IAC. But he could be wrong, and it might be an expensive wrong. Considering his many responsibilities now, he shouldn't be taking chances with money.

The woman's full lower lip curved. "Change your mind?"

That smile, especially on that mouth -- it was a blatant taunt. And it worked. Mitch narrowed his eyes. "No, I haven't changed my mind. It's a deal."

"Great." She straightened from the side of the car where she'd been leaning. The expression on her face changed from scorn to one of complete satisfaction. In a flash, Mitch realized he'd been had.

For a minute, he got even angrier. Then he laughed. "Oh, you're good."

She seemed to hold her breath. "Pardon?"

Mitch eyed her high-and-mightiness, then started toward the side counter where he kept his paperwork. "You knew just how to play me."

There was a cool pause from the woman's direction. "I'm sure I haven't 'played' anybody."

"No?" Mitch smiled as he eased his clipboard out from beneath the ever-present pile of incoming mail. "What do you do for a living?" he asked, shooting her a glance. "Trial lawyer?"

Her lips parted on a gasp. "Lawyer?" she squeaked, clearly taken aback.

Mitch found an ancient ballpoint pen, stuck it on top of the forms that were already attached to the clipboard, then came over to her. "You'd be a whiz at destroying a witness."

She closed her parted lips and glared at him. "I'm not a lawyer."

"Ah." Mitch smiled.

"I'm a financial consultant." She really was flustered. "It's a completely different profession."

"I'm sure it is." Pleased he could fluster her, Mitch held out the clipboard. "Here, fill out the top three lines. After four repair shops in three weeks, I'm sure you know the drill."

She didn't make a move to take the clipboard. Her eyes turned a steely color, completely belying her denial of lawyerlike, sharky tendencies. "People pay me to do something useful," she claimed.