Terms of Surrender (2 page)

Outside the nearest building—a huge one with roll-up doors—stood a man. He watched her, a slight smile on his face. He hadn’t been there a few minutes ago when she’d pulled up, and she had to wonder when he’d appeared, and how much he’d seen.

You were hidden by the door, dummy. No way could he see you, especially below the waist.

Except, of course, her feet had been sticking out. And they’d been encircled by nylon and black satin for a couple of seconds. Oh, and there was the fact that she’d been fiddling with her underwear before clambering back into the car.

He knew. He had to know. She’d been busted like a kindergartener raiding the candy jar. Worse—picking her…seat.

Brazen it out.

Her chin went up and she pretended not to hear him. When she took a step away from the vehicle, he called out, “Uh, miss, seriously, you might want to rethink that.”

Grr. She’d already rethought it, especially with the hint of coolness in the spring air creeping up her thighs. And higher.

“That could get you into some trouble,” the man added.

Gritting her teeth, she said, “Oh, were you talking to me?”

The man, who wore faded mechanic’s coveralls, approached her, wiping his greasy hands on a towel. His expression was impassive, a friendly smile not indicating what he was thinking.

That was okay, Mari had enough thoughts for both of them.

She gawked, making a mental note with every step he took.

Step:
Tall.

Step:
Strong, with broad shoulders and thick arms straining against the faded fabric of his clothes.

Step:
Lean-hipped and slim-waisted.

Step:
Long, powerful legs that ate up the pavement.

Step:
Great smile, broadening as he drew closer…and oh, a dimple in one cheek!

Step, step, step:
Sexy, confident, gorgeous.

How incredibly embarrassing that he could be coming over to tell her he’d seen London and France when she’d done her front-seat striptease. Though, not as bad as it would be if he told her he’d seen the Netherlands.

She told herself to cool it. Maybe he just wanted to say hi. Or he could be coming over to tell her he’d heard the roughness of her car’s engine. Given the way he was dressed, and that he’d come out of a building that was obviously some kind of repair shop, she’d pegged him for a mechanic.

Maybe he needed to know the time. Or to tell her the whole place had been evacuated for a fire drill.

Say anything except
I know you’re not wearing any panties.

Not only because it would be embarrassing if he confirmed he’d seen her, but because it was such a sleazy, slimy come-on. And she didn’t want to think this stranger—this very sexy man—had a sleazy bone in his body. That would probably break her long-single, brittle heart completely. Guys this handsome simply shouldn’t be allowed to be scumbags.

Reaching her, the man studied her from behind his sunglasses, which were necessitated by the bright sunshine that painted the tips of his light brown hair gold. She couldn’t help wondering what color his eyes were. Warm chocolate? Jade green? Something dazzling, she imagined. Because only a perfect set of eyes belonged in that face, with its high cheekbones, strong jutting jaw and broad, sensual mouth.

Masculine. That was the only word to describe him.

“Afternoon,” he said pleasantly, as if they’d just been introduced at a social event, as if he wasn’t standing there, thinking about her being pantyless.

Maybe he’s not.

Yeah. Right.

“Hello,” she mumbled.

He pushed the sunglasses up onto the top of his head with the tip of his finger.
Oh, my.
Not brown, not gold…something in-between. Like fine, clear amber. Absolutely beautiful.

“Wow,” she whispered.

He heard. Because now those eyes were twinkling. Definitely twinkling. She’d heard the expression, but always figured it for an exaggeration. It wasn’t. This guy had
you-can-trust-me-I’m-adorable
written on his very eyeballs.

“You look a little lost,” he said, that deep voice friendly, matching the twinkle and his small smile.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure? Maybe I can help. I know my way around.”

A quick glance at the stitching on his chest revealed the name of a popular auto-repair chain: Midas. They must make a lot of house calls to the academy if he was so familiar with it.

Funny that he worked for a company with a name that suited him so well, given those gold highlights in his hair. She only wondered if his big, powerful hands had the golden touch. And what lucky woman was on the receiving end of it.

One thing was sure, he was nothing like the men she usually associated with. There wasn’t a professor-ish feature on him. Probably in his early-to-mid-thirties, he was all man, not boyish, despite the twinkle and the dimples. He was rugged, not a smoothly put-together package like a slick high-rise, but a naturally spectacular formation like…the Grand Canyon.

Okay, that was a little overdone, but still, the guy was robbing her of coherent thought. She could only look at him for another long moment, pretending to consider his offer.

His cheeks were slightly stubbled, a faint smear of grease visible beside his strong nose. His skin was bronzed, his hands calloused, his muscles, she would bet, coming from hard work, not from a fitness club. And the mouth. Oh, did the man have a mouth—all soft, sensuous, smiling lips.

A shiver moved throughout her entire body, so delicate she almost didn’t notice. It took her a second to realize that shiver had been a pure, feminine response to him: attraction. Major attraction. She was no longer calculating how good-looking he was, her gears had shifted smoothly from
assess
to
covet.

Stop it.
It had been far too long since she’d been in a relationship if a guy who’d peeping-Tom’d her when she’d pulled off her underwear was giving her the shivers.

He didn’t peeping-Tom you…you Sharon Stone’d him!

She tried to pull her thoughts together, determined not to give him an opening to make a sleazy remark. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“Well, you might not need any help, but I gotta say, you’re really tempting fate.”

Curious about why, but afraid of how he’d answer, she instead replied, “Thanks for your concern, but I’m not worried.”

“Rule-breaker, huh?”

“No.”

“Just like to live dangerously?”

Oh, hell. That cemented it, reminding her of why he’d come over here. He’d definitely seen her strip. “Not in the least.”

“Well, I’ll admit you don’t look the type.”

Her spine stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gesturing toward her hair, then her clothes, he said, “I mean, you look more like a schoolteacher than a rebel.”

That was a good thing. “That’s the plan,” she mumbled.

“You’re not really a teacher, are you?” he asked.

“Not yet.” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, damn it.”

“You’re late.”

“How did you ever guess?” she asked, her tone dry.

There went the twinkle. And the dimple. And a broad, white grin. “’Cause you sped in here like demons were on your tail.”

At least he hadn’t said,
Demons were on your
naked
tail.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have an interview. It’s fifty minutes from now and they said to check in an hour early.”

He waved a hand, unconcerned. “They tell everyone that. But the place is nearly deserted. It won’t take you ten minutes to get the visitor’s pass, I promise. Don’t worry about it.”

“Still, I don’t want to risk it, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“So you’re worried about making a bad impression?”

Blowing out an impatient breath as he stopped her from turning away with just that amused tone in his voice, she admitted, “Yes, okay? Yes, I am.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not doing very well so far.” He pointed to a nearby building. “Personnel offices have a bird’s-eye view of this parking lot.”

Oh, great. Was he saying that he wasn’t the only one who had seen her doing her impromptu striptease? Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she looked up at the windows, then down at her car, trying to judge the angle. Geometry wasn’t her strongest suit, but it didn’t seem utterly impossible that somebody looking down might have seen as much as this guy had. Plus, she had a sunroof.

“This is bad,” she whispered.

“It’s okay, you can handle it. If anybody says anything, just tell them you were worried about making it on time.”

Gawking, she snapped, “Most people would be too polite to
say
anything.”

“What does politeness have to do with it?”

“A gentleman wouldn’t put me on the spot about this.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You mean I wasn’t being a gentleman? My mom’ll be crushed.”

If there had been any snarkiness in his voice, she might have been annoyed, but something about his charm was getting around her defenses. So far, he
had
been gentlemanly in trying to let her know he’d seen her stripping off her underclothes in broad daylight in a public parking lot.

“Look, I had a run,” she explained, her tone grudging.

He glanced down. “In those heels?”

“Down one whole leg.”

“I thought both legs were usually required for running.”

She managed not to groan, realizing he thought she’d gone
for
a run. “I had a run in my pantyhose, okay?”

His gaze remained downward, and his voice was the tiniest bit husky when he said, “No big loss. You definitely don’t need ’em. You have great legs.”

Her cheeks warmed. The way he said that indicated he was a leg man. That in itself was refreshing, as most men she knew professionally were interested only in her academic credentials. And the few she met when at a bar or a party were all focused on the two appendages sticking out the front of her body, not the two at the bottom.
Hmm. Are breasts appendages?

“Thanks. But the point is, I’m late, I want to make a good impression and I didn’t have time to stop and buy hose.”

He finally got it. “Ahh. That’s why you did it?”

Wondering how pink her cheeks were, she mumbled, “Yes.”

Smiling, he replied, “Well, luckily, I was here to see.”

She gasped. Had he really just said that? Seriously, had he just admitted he’d been
lucky
enough to catch a crotch-shot from a complete stranger?

“Because, like I said, you really don’t have to sweat the time. So you can go ahead and take care of this.”

“Take care of it?” she asked. What? Did he think she was going to run back and magically produce new pantyhose from her purse, like a rabbit out of a hat, and put them on?

“Sure. Just get back in your car. I’ll help you out.”

Her jaw dropped open. “Uh…”

“I mean, if you need some directions, I can hop in the passenger seat and show you.”

Directions? She’d bet he knew a lot about women’s underwear and could give directions on how to get in—or
out
—of them.