Personal Assets (Texas Nights) (5 page)

“What the hell does all that mean? In English this time.”

“I offer individual counseling and workshops that address common concerns and challenges inhibiting women’s sexual enjoyment and fulfillment. We discuss issues like why an extra fifteen pounds shouldn’t keep a woman from enjoying herself in bed. Or what women experiencing menopause can do to maintain a healthy libido. How to communicate with a partner so both people are physically satisfied with the relationship.”

“I’m getting a bad mental picture here. Please tell me you don’t do that
Fried Green Tomatoes
mirror thing.”

Allie had to laugh. “Not something I encourage in a workshop setting.”

Cameron scanned the now-deserted ballpark. “Princess, this is a town full of conservative people. Not that it’s any of my business, but how long can a business like yours last here?”

She swung her legs onto the tailgate, toes almost touching the denim covering Cameron’s nicely muscled thigh. If she could salvage this situation, she might get the chance to touch those muscles with something besides her tennis shoes. “It’s more about the quality of the service I provide, rather than the quantity. I’m doing fine between local clients, referrals, and women who drive from other places around the state.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Allie let out the breath trapped inside her lungs. Well, it wasn’t a pledge of loyalty to her professional mission, but his face was no longer hard and angry. She studied Cameron’s profile with new appreciation. He wasn’t handsome. His face and body looked lived in. The lines radiating from the corners of his eyes, the scars on the backs of his hands, and the muscles of his biceps and forearms indicated he used his body as a tool.

Hopefully, a tool with the skill to craft some darn fine workmanship in bed.

She would’ve never planned to broach the topic this way, but the bull didn’t always let you politely climb on his back and guide him to the ground. Tightening the ponytail restrained by her cap, Allie swallowed once and dove in. “Are you involved?”

His eyes crinkled. “With what?”

“With someone.”

He stared at her as if she’d used the Popsicle to smear war paint on her face. “What does this have to do with my car?”

Obviously, she needed a communication skills refresher course.

“I’ll take care of BB, don’t worry.” Allie clasped her hands tight around her knees to keep them from fluttering around. She was a professional. She was confident. She was in control. But darn it, it was hard to get all this out while Cameron watched her with a puzzled expression. “Living and working in a community this size has drawbacks. For example, it’s hard to develop a satisfying physical relationship with someone who can be discreet and not expect a trip to pick out a china pattern once you’ve been to bed with him.”

His face went from puzzled to alarmed.

“I think you could be discreet.” What the heck, she’d go for broke. “So I want to have sex with you. Repeatedly. As many times as possible.”

* * *

It took everything Cameron had not to jerk his head back like someone had punched him in the face. Allie Shelby had definitely changed in the years he’d been away. Someone like her coming on to someone like him? Didn’t add up.

What kind of game was she playing—princess and the peasant?

She wasn’t laughing. Not a smile. Not a smirk.

The jab was low in his belly this time.

She was serious.

To think he’d imagined life would be predictable, almost dull, living in his hometown. So far, this woman was anything but dull.

He cleared his throat to buy time. Was his body interested?
Hell
,
yeah.
Should his brain even consider going to bed with Allie Shelby?
Hell
,
no.
“Ah. Huh. Well.” He rubbed his forehead and tried again. “I just wanted to talk about BB.”
Great
,
dumb ass.
Now she’d jump down from his truck and walk away without looking back.

She had the cheek to laugh, a soft sound he felt all the way to the bone. “If you’re concerned I’m shirking, don’t worry. I’m not trying to use the barter system.”

Smooth
,
Wright.
Accuse her of trading her body to avoid paying for repairs.
His only excuse was that when she’d mentioned having sex, all the blood drained straight from his brain to his dick.

He could deal with a random boner. With Allie. With this whole, damned surreal situation. “I’m flattered by the...uh...offer.” Hell, now he sounded like he was turning down a new job. “To hell with it. I’d be an idiot to refuse that incredibly tempting offer.”

“But?”

“With my family’s history with your dad, it wouldn’t be smart for you and me to get involved.” He’d already told himself she wasn’t anything he was looking for in a woman, but his balls were going to kick his ass for turning her down.

“I’m not suggesting you become his son-in-law. We’re just talking about sex.”

Words that would’ve thrilled him a few years ago jabbed like an elbow to the chest instead. Dammit, he’d been to bed with plenty of women when no one wanted more than a good time between the sheets. But what had happened in Austin was supposed to stay in Austin.

Maybe he’d misunderstood. “No strings?”

“None. Other than I won’t see other men while I’m having sex with you. I expect the same courtesy. If you can’t promise that, we’ll pretend we never had this conversation.” Allie fiddled with the hem on her shorts, drawing his attention to the sticky Popsicle juice smearing the freckles on her thighs. “Look, I’m attracted to you, but I won’t be offended if you don’t feel the same.”

Her words cut in on his fantasy of licking up every drop of grape juice from her legs. Playing a sexy game of dot-to-dot with those pale freckles. Did they end at the tops of her thighs or would he find them even higher?

Another rush of blood surged below his belt. He was officially losing it. This day had started out a mess, and taking Allie up on her offer of a casual relationship would either make it better or more chaotic. Problem was, he wouldn’t know which until he said yes.

“Princess, attraction isn’t the problem.” Crap, he hadn’t meant to blurt that out. But truth was truth. Even wearing shapeless soccer shorts and beat-up tennis shoes, Allie was sexier than other women in tight skirts and high heels. The way she was dressed, her hair in a ponytail and smears of dirt on her face and legs, should’ve made her look like a twelve-year-old boy. What she looked like, though, was a woman who wouldn’t be afraid of being mussed up by steamy, sweaty sex.

Who would’ve thought the pretty little princess of Shelbyville had it in her?

Getting involved with her was a bad idea. His head knew it. But his dick and the rest of his body hadn’t received the message. Hell of a time for his internal voice mail to go on the blink.

“Great, then I’ll stop by your garage later this week and we can finish working out the sex thing.” She started to swing her legs off the end of the truck bed, but Cameron gripped one ankle to hold her in place.

How could she be so cool about this conversation when his skin was blistering? It was time to take back some control.

“I never said yes, princess.”

“But you didn’t say no.”

Hell, looked like she had his number.

Chapter Four

On Thursday morning, having Allie run him over with her SUV sounded like a better time to Cameron than this Chamber of Commerce breakfast meeting.

Christ, he hated crap like this. As an employee back in Austin, he’d been exempt from this hand-shaking, ass-kissing thing. Why had he assumed he could open his garage’s doors, hunker down inside and play with his cars like a four-year-old with his Hot Wheels?

It took money to buy cars. It took business to get money. So here he was, at a round banquet table topped with a white cloth and decorated with tiny hay bales and cowboy hats that might fit a Ken doll. If Ken had the
cojones
to be a cowboy, which he didn’t. Cameron had discovered that the summer Beck’s sister played nudist colony with her huge collection of dolls.

He needed a helluva lot more sleep if he was thinking about kids’ toys when he should be drumming up business.

AKA, hell on earth.

But if he wanted both business and the respect that went with success, he needed to suck it up. He swallowed the lump of reluctance stuck in his throat and stood to shake hands with the local entrepreneurs. His uncomfortable schmoozing earned him a few slaps on the back and questions about the status of college football these days. No one seemed to be talking business. God, how did his hotshot lawyer brother stand to gab at people all day?

“Try not to look so miserable and it’ll get better.”

Cameron turned to find a tall redheaded woman grinning at him. She wore skinny jeans, needle-heeled boots and a shirt embroidered with what looked a lot like a penis.

“I’m Roxanne, owner of Red Light Lingerie.” She stuck out her hand. “And you’re Cameron Wright.”

“Last time I checked.”

She caught him staring at the logo above her left breast and tapped the spot. “Promise Keeper vibrators.”

He closed his eyes. God, give him an alternator any day.

Her laugh was husky, but it didn’t heat his blood like Allie’s did. Roxanne hooked her arm through his and steered him toward the buffet. “See, not all men can keep their big promises. But the PK XL? That one always keeps his promises.”

No wonder Allie wasn’t a Goody Two-shoes anymore if this was who she hung out with.

“Here’s the 411,” Roxanne said. “The real business usually happens after the meeting.” She opened a food warmer and winced at the scrambled eggs inside. At least he thought they were eggs. Either that or week-old yellow oatmeal. “So relax and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks for rescuing me.” Cameron dropped a biscuit on his plate and it bounced. “At least I know the food’s not the attraction.”

“You’ll get the hang of it. Believe me, if a girl from Houston can finally navigate Shelbyville’s politics and traditions, a hometown boy like you should have no problem.” Roxanne pointed to the far side of the room. “I see an open table over there.”

On their way to the table, Charlie Pfeiffer stopped Cameron and asked about his plans to officially open for business. He also mentioned he’d bought a 1964 Pontiac GTO from one of his clients after his insurance company settled a collision claim. Charlie knew the car still had potential, but didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

Looked like Cameron had snagged his first job. Maybe this business development stuff wasn’t so hard after all.

He took a seat next to Roxanne and was chipping away at his biscuit brick when someone rapped a gavel on a portable oak podium up front. No surprise who was holding the hammer.

Robert Shelby.

Allie’s father.

Perfect. If he could’ve come up with any way to slip out unnoticed, Cameron would’ve been back at the garage before Shelby could say “Robert’s Rules of Order.”

“I’d like to call this meeting of the Shelbyville Chamber of Commerce to order.”

Cameron was eyeing a side door when it inched open and Allie slid inside without a sound. He’d wondered if she’d be here. Seemed like her kind of shindig.

Just like he’d wondered since Monday when she was going to show up at his garage to talk about “the sex thing.” Not that he’d counted the hours or anything. All seventy-one and a half of them.

She beelined for the closest empty chair, which happened to be the one on Cameron’s right. Had he been set up? He glanced at Roxanne on his other side, but she was rearranging her hash browns into a swirl pattern around her plate, looking completely innocent.

Today, instead of kid clothes, Allie wore a slim skirt the color of key lime pie and a floaty white meringue...uh...shirt. His gaze trailed down the length of her calves and rested on a pair of high-heeled sandals. The toes peeking out were painted the color of peaches. She scooted into the chair, and the sweet smell of cinnamon drifted over Cameron.

“Hi,” she whispered.

His dress pants tightened and his stomach growled. Was she a seductress or a fucking fruit salad? Cameron choked on his laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

He shook his head, but it was hard to listen to a business owner talking about unemployment, tax breaks and the fall elections over the sound of Allie shifting in her chair and his messed-up thoughts about her. Was he actually considering getting involved with her when she’d been clear about the physical-only boundary? If so, he was already going back on his promise to himself. The noise in his head rose, making everything else sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher.
Mwah
,
mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah.

Cameron felt a tap. Allie’s slender hand rested on his forearm.

She jerked her head toward the front of the room, indicating he’d missed an essential piece of information. She leaned closer. “They want you to stand up and talk about your business.”

“Uh...” Shit. The action in his pants hadn’t completely ramped down yet. Not full mast, but he could not stand up.

Allie’s dad stared down from the podium. “Mr. Wright, if I understand correctly, you have purchased Alistair Kaynes’s garage and plan to install some type of automotive repair service.”

This was the only time Cameron had ever felt a warm fuzzy for the man.

He grabbed the napkin from his lap and eased to his feet, careful to keep the white fabric in front of his crotch. Well-mannered people looked at a man’s face when he talked. He had nothing to worry about. “Good morning. I know many of you already, but for those I don’t, I’m Cameron Wright, Emmalee’s son.”

He cleared his throat and continued, “Recently, I bought the fine piece of property at 629 Main Street.” That earned a few laughs since the whole town knew what a shithole Scoot’s garage had been for years. “I’m renovating and will open for business, providing both paint and bodywork, within the month.”

He started to retake his seat, but someone from across the room asked, “You planning to hire any help? Because we sure could use more jobs around here.”