Driven to Temptation (5 page)

He was so still she had to wonder if he heard her. Come to think of it, they’d been on the road a couple of hours, and he’d been statue-still for most of the drive. How’d he do it? More importantly,
why’d
he do it? She tapped her pen harder and ignored the burning need to ask.

“The problem is,” she continued, “most women are too wrapped up in what society tells them they should be, then they plan every second so that the joy of living—
really
living—gets lost in the minutiae.”

Which was exactly what she didn’t want to happen to her. Because as much as she wanted to reach the goals she’d set for herself, she was also determined to have some fun along the way. Otherwise, what was the point?

“You don’t lack confidence, do you?”

“Nope. I suppose you don’t think that’s very ladylike. And for the record, I’m way okay with that.”

This time, when he glanced at her, there was a full-out grin on his face. “Is that so? You want to be seen as a guy?”

“I want to be seen as an equal.”

“An equal.” He nodded. “But not a lady.”

“Depends on what you consider a lady.”

On a straight shot of roadway, he slowed the truck’s speed and stared at her, his gaze starting at the top of her head and slowly, leisurely, glancing down her body.

And she responded. God, did she respond. Like he touched her instead of just looked, like he wanted her as much as she knew, deep down, she wanted him. Which was among the dumbest things to cross her mind. Ever.

“You know I was just kidding about not stopping.” He slowed the truck further and pulled into the rest area.

She smiled. “I know. Thanks for distracting me.”

“Make it quick,” he added as he waited for another truck to pull out of a parking stall.

So much for the distraction. Her body reverted back to its immediate need. “Should I jump out now or wait for you to park?”

“Smart-ass.”

She grinned at him. “Wouldn’t want to taint my reputation with you.”

Because that was the safest thing, wasn’t it? To stay one of the guys so she could be taken seriously. Somehow, convincing herself was harder this time.

Chapter Eight

Delaney climbed back into the truck, then slammed the door closed.

“Seven minutes,” he said. “Not too bad.”

“You timed me? Seri
ously?”

“Got to stay on schedule.”

“Would it really matter if we were a few minutes late? The electronics store won’t close for a few hours. Plenty of time for us to get there.”

Aidan maneuvered the truck back onto the highway. “Anything can happen. I prefer to be early than roll the dice.”

Now there was a surprise. Not.

She leaned back, the soft leather cradling her, then turned her head and stared at him, stared at his large hands gliding over the steering wheel again.

Capable hands. Hands that made love to the leather-covered metal, gripping hard when he maneuvered around a curve, then loosening, gentling on the straight stretches.

“You’re staring.”

Busted.

She tore her gaze away and gave herself a mental shake. She eased in a deep breath. “No, I’m not.”

The man oozed testosterone, did all sorts of things to her, things she knew she shouldn’t act on. But, God, he was temptation on two muscled legs.

“You’re a lousy liar.” He chuckled, the sound a deep, soft, sexy rumble that blended with the power of the truck racing down the highway. What would that chuckle sound like in bed?

Okay. She really had to get her mind out of the gutter. Aidan was her
boss,
for heaven’s sake.

She tapped her foot in time to the beat of the music still blaring out of the truck speakers. “How do you know I’m lying?”

“You’re turning an adorable shade of pink.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a teasing smile, one that lit up his eyes.

If he wasn’t her boss? Well, she’d definitely make a play for the guy. Who wouldn’t? Even Blondie had hit on him, and there was little doubt the woman could’ve had any man. But why lust after something so not possible?

“Turning pink’s the curse of redheads,” she said, reaching for her handbag. She peered inside, then rummaged through the remaining snacks. She frowned. No more corn chips. Well…barbecue chips it was, then.

She pulled the bag out and tore it open. “I don’t suppose you want some?” Too late, she heard the double entendre in her otherwise innocent question.

“Depends. What are you offering?” His tone was even, but curious.

Oh God, had he heard it, too? Or was it just her overactive imagination hard at work? “Chips.” She held the bag out.

“Maybe.” He chuckled again, like he’d been privy to her horny thoughts. “Aunt Molly’s,” he said, his gaze still on the road.

“Huh?”

“Aunt Molly’s barbecue potato chips,” he repeated. “I’d recognize it anywhere.”

The bag in her hand crinkled as she angled it to look at the label. “For someone who doesn’t eat junk food, you seem pretty familiar with this one. How come?”

He said nothing, but a muscle in his jaw tightened. The mostly calm, cool, collected Aidan Ross had a sore spot over potato chips? That didn’t make sense.

“You brought it up,” she reminded him, holding the bag out again. “You want some or not?”

He hesitated, swallowed deeply, like he was trying to make up his mind.

She frowned as the song blaring out of the speakers faded. “Look, as much as you work out, a few of these won’t hurt you.”

A corner of his mouth crooked up. “That’s okay.”

The music started up again. “You sure? It’s pretty good.”

“I know. It’s my favorite.”

His favorite? She frowned. That didn’t make any sense, either. “Then how come you don’t want any?”

“I have my reasons.”

Really, how much more cryptic could the guy be? It was like he was talking about life-changing events instead of some measly potato chips.

Well, whatever…

“Would it bother you if I ate this, then? I can put it away. I brought some cookies with me, too. Double chocolate chip. Those are
my
favorite.”

“Why don’t you eat that first, then?”

“I like saving the best for last.” She folded over the top of the bag. “But I can put this away and start on those now.”

“Look, Delaney, don’t worry about it, okay?”

The way he faced forward doing the statue thing, she couldn’t read his eyes, couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. She shrugged, grabbed a chip, and bit into it. Whatever was bugging him had to have run pretty deep.

“So,” he said after a moment. “You make trips to Portland a lot?”

“Nope.” Not that she hadn’t had more than her share of phone-calls-turned-arguments with her parents. If they’d only respect the fact she was more than capable of cutting it in a man’s world, maybe she wouldn’t have made the insane bet with her mother. Head a major project before the end of the year or go home.

What the hell had she been thinking?

As it was, she had less than three months left. Twelve short weeks to convince Aidan she was the natural choice for the Century Plains project.

She glanced at his profile, at the determined tilt to his jaw. Like he took on the world with no apologies. Like failure wasn’t an option.

Well, it wasn’t an option for her, either.

“Do you always fidget? Even while sitting?” he asked, cutting into her thoughts.

She froze at the question, purposefully stopped her toe-tapping. “Sorry. I’m not used to being a passenger on long road trips.”

Especially not alone with a super-sexy guy like Aidan. This time, she boldly studied his profile, stark against the backdrop of thick trees. Even from this angle there was no mistaking the intensity that permeated him almost from the moment she’d laid eyes on the guy. But what started out as mild curiosity soon ballooned into more.

Who, exactly, was Aidan Ross? Unapproachable entrepreneur, or someone who cared enough to help rescue a dog despite his allergy?

“You must like what you see.”

What the hell could she say to that?

The evenly said words made her look away, and a slow heat started at her neck and worked its way up. In a few seconds her face would be almost as red as her hair. Again. “Just wondering what makes you tick.”

Lame, but there it was.

“I’m no different than most guys.”

“Most guys are easy to figure out.”

“That’s interesting.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What is?”

“That you’re trying to figure me out.”

“We’re not talking about me.” She sighed, started tapping the floorboard again. “But I’ve got five older brothers who made sure I knew all about guys before I even stepped foot in high school.”

“No kidding?” He slowly whistled, a high-pitched sound that seemed amplified in the tight space. He might’ve been fighting it, but she saw a corner of his mouth crook up.

God, he was gorgeous when he smiled. Even when he didn’t smile, for that matter.

And if she wasn’t careful, she might forget all the reasons she should stay away from him.

He dropped the truck’s speed as they wove through town, headed for the next highway. “Damn,” he muttered as he glanced at the dashboard. “Traffic’s picked up.” He clenched his jaw briefly, then added, “I’d had it all planned out so we’d miss this part of the commute.”

“You always have everything planned?”

“Helps to avoid things like getting stuck in traffic.”

“But takes the fun out of life.” At least, that was the way she saw it. “What’s wrong with being spontaneous? Spicing things up a bit?”

“Spontaneity was something I was never good at.”

That much was obvious. “How sad.”

“Not really. It’s more efficient. Gets you toward what you want faster.”

He had a point. “But sometimes the trip’s more fun when life’s not what you’d predicted.” Although in her case, she had her eye on the bigger picture.

Nothing would derail her from
that
.

…

A call sounded through the cab at the same moment Aidan rounded the truck through a corner, taking it a hair below the posted speed limit. Which was a good thing considering a farm tractor crawled just ahead of them, a stream of black smoke coming from its exhaust.

“Shit.” He stepped on the brake, jolting them forward. “You okay?” he asked, chancing a look at Delaney.

“Yeah.” She nodded, a curious frown on her face. “Who’s Grant Phillips? This is the second time he’s called.”

Grant?

Aidan looked at the truck’s screen before he accelerated. He’d linked his cell phone to it so he could take business calls on the road. Only, Grant’s calls wouldn’t be about business.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Her toe-tapping stopped. “Oh, shit. Are you… I mean, is he…like, your boyfriend?” She clearly misinterpreted his silence.

“What?” He threw her a sideways glance. She couldn’t possibly think…

“Not that there’s anything wrong with—”

“Delaney.”

“I know a lot of guys who like guys,” she continued. “I mean…not a lot, lot, but—”

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You can’t be serious.”

“About knowing guys who are gay?” She huffed out a breath. “Of course I am. Why would I lie about that?”

Really, what was it about this woman that aggravated and intrigued him at the same time? He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m not gay.”

She stared at him, a mixture of fascination and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“As much as I want to prove it to you, we both know that’s a bad idea.”

“It is?” She swallowed, her gaze dropping to his mouth before flickering up again.

“Yes.” How he’d kept his voice firm was one hell of a miracle.

Aidan focused his attention on the road ahead and the way sunshine glinted off the pavement. Anything was better than doing something so dumb as to pull the truck off to the side and follow through on what his dick demanded.

She worked for Ross and Associates. He might own a small business, but there were plenty of examples of sexual harassment suits in the news. He definitely wasn’t going to be a part of that mess.

The truth it is.

“Grant Phillips is my foster brother.”

She frowned as if trying to process the thought. “What’s that like?”

“You have brothers. What’s
that
like?”

“Mostly a pain in the ass.”

“Grant was a pain, too. Very shy. He’s better now, but there were some moments back then when I wondered.” Given his brother’s background, it was amazing the guy eventually came out of his shell.

“Must’ve been something in the water.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not exactly Mr. Social yourself.”

Why bother to deny it? Instead Aidan focused on the stretch of asphalt ahead, on the flow of traffic and keeping the truck in its lane.

“Sorry,” she said. “That’s probably not the thing to say to your boss.”

“Hard to learn to be social when you’re shuffled around from home to home.”

Until Edward and Miriam Wilson took him in. Only then did he have a couple of years in one place with firm role models. Even then he’d never really outdistanced his past.

“What?” Her voice was as surprised as the look he caught when he glanced her direction. “I thought maybe he came to live with you and your family.”

He wished. “Nope.”

“So you moved in with Grant’s family.”

“Wrong again.”

“Oh.”

He waited for more, but thankfully, Delaney didn’t pry.

“So you’ve got a special bond with Grant.” She reached for her Gatorade and gulped down a quick swallow.

“We got into a few adventures together.”

“You?” She let out a short laugh. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Hey, it’s happened, you know.” And in his case, he was glad. Grant was his closest friend, would likely always be that way.

“Oh? Like what?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him.

“Like the time another kid was picking on Grant. We sneaked out of the house and stole his car.”

“You
what
?”

“Don’t worry, we didn’t do anything more than park it in front of a known prostitute’s home.” It had been a perfectly executed plan, one that Harold had helped them concoct and that his sister never discovered. If she had, there was no doubt Miriam would’ve banned him from coming over again.

For a brief moment, the strains of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” were the only sounds that mixed with the rumble of the engine.

“That’s really cool,” she said at last.

Aidan heard the smile in her voice, and a slow, inexplicable warmth spread through him.

“You’re obviously smart, you care about rescuing a lost dog—even if she did make you cry—”

“You would bring that up.”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Let me finish. And somewhere in your past you helped your foster brother get through some of the toughest parts of his life.” She smiled. “You’re a good man at heart, aren’t you, Aidan Ross?”

Was he a good man? “The jury’s still out on that one.” He stepped down on the accelerator, and the truck immediately responded to his command.

Too bad the rest of his life didn’t work that way. If it did, he’d find some way to quell the lonely days and even lonelier nights.

For good.