"We'll figure this out," Sean said. "We may have to pound the pavement to drum up a replacement."

"You know I hate that selling c.r.a.p."

Sean chuckled. "We both need to work on our people skills as far as that goes."

"We'll think of something. Let's not make any quick decisions about the guys yet."

"Right. Nothing hasty."

The sound of the office chair's wheels rolling came through the phone. It was coming up on seven o'clock and Sean would stay another hour to run through paperwork. It was AJ's turn, but Sean shooed him out the door. They'd been friends since tenth grade Machine Shop cla.s.s.

Papers rustled and Sean cleared his throat. "You know I ran into George n.o.ble when I was grabbing lunch at the corner deli. Remember him? The talkative guy...been at Knights about a year."

"Yeah."

"He said something strange. Something about a lawyer crony of the old man's calling the office and making a huge stink yesterday. This lawyer guy spoke to Joel Junior. Then apparently Joel Senior called Junior. And get this," Sean said, waiting a beat. "Your name came up."

"That makes no sense." AJ walked out of his garage into his house.

There was no accusation in Sean's voice. They went too far back and too deep for that. He could tell Sean was just as baffled as he was. The two of them played off each other's strengths. Sean schmoozed the service contracts, brought in a little cla.s.sic car business, and in general ran the business side of things with Betty. AJ ran the shop and did the trouble-shooting with car problems.

"That's it. George said someone called and made a big stink about McMillan's. He definitely heard your name."

"This is a pile of-"

"Cool down, AJ."

AJ walked into his kitchen, tossing his keys on the counter. "I'm ice."

"Go. Have a good time tonight. We can talk tomorrow."

He was already untying his boots. "Got it."

He removed his other boot and dropped the pair side by side on linoleum at least as old as him. Unzipping his coveralls, he couldn't help but contrast his kitchen with Jennifer's. Even if hers was a hodge-podge of color it beat the ugly mix of avocado greens and yellows. Cracked counter tops. Square florescent lighting. And the walls papered with faded tea kettles. Everything was clean, but the house was fifty years old, lacking in character and comfort.

The garage? Brand new and twice as twice as big as his house. No dust or cobwebs in his garage. Oil drip pans were always scrubbed clean. Tools aligned perfectly on pegboards and rearranging his socket wrenches.

"Priorities," he said to himself, unzipping his jeans.

Walls crammed in around him. He'd planned to bring Jennifer back here tonight. He yanked off his T-s.h.i.+rt and wiped off excess sweat. Down to his boxer briefs, he dumped the dirty clothes in front of his washer in the laundry room off his kitchen. His lips pressed a tight line. The Knight Plumb thing bugged him. So did his lackl.u.s.ter home.

He'd never been embarra.s.sed about himself. He wasn't about to start now.

But he'd never cared enough to bring a woman home.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Subtext Gallery. Getting out of his truck, he found the right place without checking the address. Retro lamps dipped over plate gla.s.s windows cut into a brick building in the trendy North Block Lofts area. Wrought iron trimmed windows framed people inside the gallery. Jennifer mingled with a gla.s.s of wine in hand. She was the work of art. Perfect.

Keeping his eyes on the prize, he strode across the street and slipped inside the gallery's open door. He stood inside the doorway and waited. Would she feel his presence the way he felt hers? His chest hurt so good when it came to Jennifer. Their chemistry...her. Contentment was watching her breathe.

She was mid-sentence when her glossy lips parted. Jennifer's head turned as if she searched the gallery. Her dark-eyed gaze landed on him. The bolt was primal made him stand taller and take purposeful steps to meet her halfway.

"AJ!" Jennifer's heels clicked fast. She slipped her arm through his, kissing his cheek. "I'm glad to see you."

She took his breath away. His pin up girl. She'd styled her hair in a side wave and wore a black dress with a full skirt going to her knees. The bodice curved like a heart on her chest with halter straps tied behind her neck.

"You look...different."

Her eyes sparkled. "Do you like it?"

His gaze dropped to her bust line and he'd swear she wore a bullet bra. Male satisfaction bloomed in his chest. A little cavemen and a lot hungry.

Jennifer's smile was pure mischief. Pus.h.i.+ng up on her toes, she whispered, "Wait 'til you see what's underneath." She squeezed his arm and dropped back on her heels. "You clean up pretty good, AJ."

He tugged his collar. A black polo s.h.i.+rt seemed a safe bet. "Thanks."

The crowd was eclectic. Clothes and jewelry flashed under diamond bright track lighting. Some wore jeans like him, their T-s.h.i.+rts framed with political slogans. One guy wore scuffed work boots, his intense gaze on a jumble of metal.

Jennifer followed his line of vision. "That's Pedro Gutierrez. He does metal sculptures."

"You mean he's a welder."

"Sure. You could call him an artistic welder." She laughed, standing intimately close. "I love how you see things."

The knot between his shoulder blades began to unwind. This was foreign territory, but it wasn't bad. He could talk tig welding with Pedro. The rest got him drawing a blank. A row of eight square canvases lined a wall, the paintings getting progressively smaller. Color and design connected them but the swirls didn't make sense.

Jennifer's nails grazed his back. "Are you thirsty?" She nudged her head at a makes.h.i.+ft bar in the corner. "Let's get a beer. It's open bar for another hour."

Approaching the bar, he said, "Two beers." He stuffed a tip in the jar, while the bartender filled two plastic cups from a keg sitting on an upside down milk crate. So much for fancy.

Jennifer nodded at a new cut on the back of his hand. "Busy day?"

"Like most Sat.u.r.days." He took a slow breath and let the nearness of her sink in.

"That was some message you left me."

Her cheeks blazed red. "Liked that?"

"I've lost count how many times I've listened to it."

The white tips of her teeth bit her plump lower lip. Jennifer's hand resting on the bar slid closer to his resting on the counter. "Maybe tonight you could have the real thing live and in person?"

His pulse throbbed. If elephants charged the room, he wouldn't have heard them. His world was Jennifer. The flesh tone gloss on her lips. The dimple at the side of her mouth. Her nervous laugh. He loved every little thing about her.

Drinks in hand, she touched his forearm and the hairs bristled. The day's exhaustion and bad news washed away when Jennifer touched him. Being here, seeing her was bliss and torment all at once.

"Come on," she said quietly. "I want you to meet some of my friends."

AJ thawed a little. His eyes darted less, settling on the work of art he came to see. Jennifer linked her fingers through his, pausing to explain a gla.s.s piece on a pedestal and a metal glob done by Pedro on another.

"Looks like a man holding a bucket," he said.

She smiled. "That's what it's called. Man's bucket."

Jennifer wound past laughing throngs, leading them to a blonde woman dressed head to toe in white. She surveyed the room, rotating a pink flyer in her hands, her fingertips running along the edges. Her eyes narrowed cat-like on him.

"AJ, this is my friend Susan," Jennifer said. "She owns the gallery."

"AJ." Pale eyes a.s.sessed him. "I've heard so much about you."

Go slow, walk the tightrope.

"Then I guess you know art's not my thing, but I'm willing to learn."

"Looking for an art teacher are you?" Susan's head tipped and silver earrings dangled against her neck. "Jennifer's very knowledgeable," she purred. "But so am I."

He was getting a s.e.xual come on vibe. Fine lines sprayed the corners of Susan's eyes. He put her at single and forty, a man eater if he'd ever seen one. It was d.a.m.n b.a.l.l.sy of the woman to be so forward. It didn't matter. He was Jennifer's date. He wasn't taking the bait.

"This is quite a place you have here," he said. "No small feat starting your own business."

"Spoken like a man who's borne the burden." Her pale eyes flickered across his shoulders and arms, stalling on his inked bicep with appreciation. "Are you a business owner?"

Jennifer's sidled up beside him, her nails skimming his back. He'd not told her his status at McMillan's. He didn't want it to matter. He wanted her to want him just as he was -a gear head with a powerful liking for Jennifer. He wanted that to be enough.

"An auto repair shop in Hidden Valley. Called McMillan's." He finished his beer, enjoying Jennifer's touch.

Susan's lips pursed. "A common sort of business."

Jennifer's roving hand froze.

AJ grinned. "Money's just as green as what you make here."

Susan made a humming sound in her throat, her pinched fingers sliding down the paper's edge. "And you offer some...expertise that Jennifer was in need of."

"Susan," Jennifer sputtered.

"My expertise is anything but common," he said coolly. s.e.x and cars. He was good at both.

Susan rolled up the flyer, her grey eyes widening. She made a humph before canting her head sideways at AJ. "I've known Jennifer a long time. I know where she came from and her talent as an artist." She glanced at his boots, a clean pair, as she tapped her paper baton against her palm. "I don't want her to move backward. We all want what's best for her."

Jennifer bristled beside him. "Four days with AJ and I'm happier than I've been in a long time."

Susan's lips pulled a thin line. "Well, it was interesting meeting you." She scanned the room beyond him. "But, more people to meet and greet." She squeezed Jennifer's arm, a warm light flickering in her eyes. "By the way...love this vintage retro look you have going. It livens you."

Susan left them in a swish of white gauzy skirts. Jennifer sighed, her forehead b.u.mping his arm.

"I'm sorry about that." She tucked loose hair behind her ear, her chin ducking. "I shared a little too much about our night star gazing."

"Don't worry."

"She'll come around. She can be a sn.o.b, but she's also a fiercely loyal friend."

He brushed two fingertips over her collarbone, the touches feather light. "Ah. She seemed...straightforward."

"Blatant and b.a.l.l.sy is more like it," Jennifer said in a voice for him alone. Smiling big, she rolled her eyes. "She's always on the hunt for s.e.x."

He traced her other collar bone. "Yeah, I've got a new friend like that. Leaves the dirtiest messages on my cell phone."

Eyes sparkling, Jennifer giggled. He loved that girlish little laugh. It peeled back layers of life and worry. Mere inches separated their bodies. Her full skirt swished around his legs and somehow that was just as intimate as his hand on her skin.

"You. Are. Awful." She breathed each scandalized word.

"I'm all yours."

She groaned, tipping her forehead against his bicep. "I can't wait to get out of here. One more hour and I can make a polite exit."

He cupped the back of her head and kissed Jennifer's forehead. The public display of affection came naturally. He didn't think twice about kissing her. Jennifer's nearness was becoming as normal as breathing.

"How are you helping?" he asked.

"Earlier I helped with set-up. During the event I answer questions about the artists and their work. If they want to buy a piece, I get things started for Susan."

"Hey, what did she mean about not wanting you to go backward?"

"Oh, that." Jennifer's voice dulled. "She's talking about where I came from. Susan's fiercely protective of my art. She was angry when I gave it up to help Peter."

"She doesn't want you to give up what you want for a man."

"There's that." She toyed with bow on the front of her waist. "She's also worried about before I met Peter."

Jennifer was skittish as she was the first night at Sam's Bar. Eyeing a gla.s.s sculpture, she drifted away from him. It was only a foot or two but the chasm was wide, leaving him cold. Jennifer shut down.

"Hey." He gave her chin a glancing touch. "What happened before?"

Her brows knit. Jennifer was slipping away as if she'd meld into the crowd in mind and body.

"Come on. Don't do this."

"There's not much to tell," she said quietly. "It's not even the worst story. More like, like something I want to forget."

"If it's your story, I want to hear it."