Manhandling Read online

  “And all because you did the Who’s Your Hottie? quiz in SPICE?” Margo asked.

  “Right,” Laurel responded to the tall redhead currently sitting on the edge of the counter, drinking a glass of white wine.

  Margo and Haley shared a look. “It doesn’t seem like you would do something like that,” Haley said.

  “That’s another reason why I’m doing it. All my life I’ve been the good girl. I want to change that.”

  Dylan Malone, Laurel’s brother, came into the kitchen. “I see the klatch is busy at work. Mmm, it smells good though.”

  Haley smiled at her husband and opened the pot of chili so he could get a good sniff. “Now be a lovely husband and go to the store and get some French bread for me. You know the kind that I like.”

  “We need bread?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Okay.” He grabbed his car keys from the counter and minutes later they heard the door close.

  Margo looked at Haley, and then opened the door that housed the bread. “Looks like French bread to me.”

  “We can’t have Dylan milling about while we’re talking about Laurel getting it on with a biker dude,” Haley pointed out, rolling her eyes.

  “True.” Margo nodded.

  “What if he mentioned it to Dad?” Haley added.

  “He wouldn’t do that,” Laurel said, defending her brother.

  “You know how guys are. Clueless,” Haley said and then turned to Laurel. “So do you have any prospects?”

  “Sherry Black from Dad’s office is shopping for a motorcycle for her boyfriend, and her boss’s brother owns a motorcycle dealership. So we’re going there on Saturday.”

  “And you’re going to shop for a guy?” Margo asked.

  “Why not? It’s a good place to meet men who ride motorcycles.”

  When both of her friends laughed, Laurel stiffened. “It’s not funny. Do you have any better ideas?”

  When her question was met with silence, Laurel narrowed her eyes. “See. It’s not such a bad idea.”

  “No, it’s not and you just gave me an idea,” Haley said thoughtfully.

  “What?” Laurel asked.

  “If you find this guy and you do hook up with him, how about coming to a Who’s Your Hottie party?”

  “You just thought of this now?” Laurel asked, popping a small bite of tomato into her mouth. She shrugged. “Why not. I’m walking on the wild side anyway. He might as well know it.”

  “Great. We can put the invitation on SPICE’s Web site and the first fifty couples who RSVP get to come. How about two weeks from now, say on a Friday? What do you think?”

  “Sounds like good publicity,” Margo said, taking a sip of her wine. “And as for you Laurel, short of going to one of those scary biker bars, I guess it’s not such a bad idea. You could meet some upscale bike-riding Romeo, I guess,” she admitted.

  “I don’t care if he’s upscale. He just has to be clean and groomed and have the attitude.”

  “What attitude?” Haley asked.

  “That in-your-face attitude. Like he doesn’t give a damn what anyone else thinks.”

  “You know those guys tend to be jerks,” Margo warned.

  “I won’t tolerate a jerk and that’s stereotypical. I’m going to keep an open mind.”

  Margo held up her glass. “To sex in any form, shape or manner,” she toasted.

  Haley laughed and raised her glass along with Laurel. “To sex,” they all chimed.

  “SO LET ME GET this straight. You pick up a quiz that this babe in your office dropped,” Mac’s half brother, Tyler Hayes, said as he leaned against the wall of the repair shop. It was connected to the showroom by an open glass door, so that Tyler could keep track of customers browsing the brand-new bikes.

  “That would be the boss’s daughter.”

  “Good one. And she wants some bad-boy biker dude instead of a kind, sensitive guy like you.”

  “Bite me,” Mac said, giving his brother a sidelong glance as he tried to loosen a bolt to remove the engine from the frame of the bike he was repairing. It was bright and early on Saturday morning and he was working with his brother in the motorcycle shop they owned together. Tyler did the buying and selling and Mac took care of the financial side, but he was a whiz with fixing motorcycles and enjoyed the work. To cut the monotony of high finance, Mac often enjoyed the physical labor of helping his brother whenever he had a chance.

  “It’s tough luck that when Mom remarried, you got the hoity-toity dad and the prep school name. And the prep school to go with it,” Tyler commented. He knelt down to search through the tool box and came up with a wrench.

  Mac accepted it and clamped it onto the bolt, but it still wouldn’t budge. “Dad wanted what was best for me.”

  “Never said he didn’t. Mom did good marrying Ted. My deadbeat dad doesn’t even compare.”

  Their mother had married Theodore Tolliver II two years after Tyler’s dad had left her. Mac was conceived almost immediately and was named after his father, but had always gone by the nickname of Mac to his family and friends. Mac was thankful he’d had the chance to grow up with Tyler. His other half brothers were much older and, therefore, didn’t tolerate having a kid following them around. But, Tyler, only three years older, had taken his younger brother under his protective wing. Although Tyler was never interested in prep schools and college, he’d chosen entrepreneur-ship and starting his own business. He was closer to the rebel Laurel was looking for.

  “So what is this chick’s name?” Tyler nudged his brother out of the way and tried to loosen the bolt himself.

  Mac nudged him back, grinning when the bolt refused to give even for his brother. “Laurel Malone.”

  The bell over the door rang and both Tyler and Mac looked toward the store’s entrance. Mac recognized Sherry the instant she walked in the door. He retreated, not wanting her to see him. He prided himself on his professional reputation and didn’t relish that the office would know that on weekends he turned into a grease monkey. He liked keeping his professional and personal lives separate. When he glanced at the door, things went from bad to worse. The woman right behind Sherry was Laurel.

  “That’s her,” he blurted out, dropping the wrench on the floor with a metallic ring.

  “What? The chick?”

  “Yes. Laurel.”

  “What is she doing here?” Tyler asked.

  “She’s with Sherry. I told Sherry about you. She wants to buy her boyfriend a motorcycle. She and Laurel are friends. Sherry must have invited her along.”

  “Well, let’s take care of that.” Tyler started for the adjoining door, but stopped when Mac didn’t follow. When Tyler turned, he gave Mac a quizzical look.

  “I don’t want them to see me. I have an image to uphold at work.”

  Tyler snorted. “Prima donna,” he said snidely.

  Mac calmly flipped him the bird, and then grinned.

  “Get back to work, Cinderella,” Tyler said, grinning back. “I’ll handle it.”

  Tyler’s teasing aside, he’d be mortified if anyone other than family saw him like this. He wasn’t exactly dressed to kill. He wore his oldest jeans and they were a little too snug, a T-shirt that had seen better days—now the arms were ripped off—and his baseball cap was on backward to tuck in his hair. He didn’t usually shave on Saturdays either because he knew he’d have to shower after working on motorcycles all day. Best to keep a low profile.

  He pulled off the ball cap and tugged the bill over his eyes. Hunching his shoulders, he bent back over the bolt, doing his best to ignore the very sexy Laurel Malone.

  LAUREL GAVE A quick look around the motorcycle dealership and was disappointed. There were men there, but most of them had a woman on their arm. The only guys who looked single was one man dressed in a business suit and who was clearly old enough to be her father, and the other two were eighteen-year-olds.

  Her roaming eyes fell on a sweet little motorcycle tucked in the corner of the sh
owroom. It was red and black with gleaming chrome. For some reason, it called to her and she walked over to it. She ran her hand down over the engine, the smooth metal cool to the touch, but heated something that had been dormant in her blood. She could see herself on this little baby, tooling down the highway, the wind in her face and the city to her back.

  A little voice inside her piped up. This isn’t practical, Laurel. It’s also dangerous and reckless. The fantasy came crashing down. That little voice in her head was her mother talking, and it was stern and sensible. She couldn’t seem to get past the disapproving tone. If she bought one, she’d have to deal with the voice and with her father’s disapproval. Not a great combination. She could argue, but he’d put up such a fight, she wouldn’t enjoy riding it anyway. Laurel was smart in choosing the battles she waged with her father; a motorcycle was low on the list.

  Laurel turned her head and the salesman was standing next to her.

  “Nice, huh?”

  “Gorgeous.”

  “Hi.” He extended his hand. “I’m Tyler.”

  “You’re the owner. Sherry told me you’re her boss’s brother.” He was attractive, maybe he’d be a good choice for her. He seemed like the kind of guy who would live on the edge.

  “Sure am.” He put his hand on the bike’s seat. “This is a good selection for you. It’s a new model, the Ducati Monster six-twenty.”

  “I love the name.”

  “And you’ll love this bike. It’s the lightest and easiest handling Ducati. The six-twenty offers a low seat height. Why don’t you give it a try?”

  She smiled and thought, why not. It’s the closest she’d probably come to riding a motorcycle. She straddled the bike.

  “Here’s the new slipper clutch for seamless shifting,” he said, indicating the feature with the toe of his black cowboy boot. “It’s also got a new color matched front fairing, newly designed mirrors for increased visibility, and a comfortable, upright riding position.”

  “This is really nice, but….”

  “The only caution I could offer is it’s a powerful machine, but it can go from more aggressive sport to comfortable city driving, easy riding. It’s got six gears to get your revs. It’s responsive and fun. This is one maneuverable machine, a perfect choice for a slight body-type like yours. It’s also easy to maintain. I can have it ready for you tomorrow.”

  “Let me think about it?” Laurel smiled and then her eyes fell on the guy working on an old Harley in the back. He was using all his strength to loosen something. His biceps bulged with thick muscle, his close-fitting, sexy jeans molded to his tight, fine-looking backside. A baseball cap covered most of his dark hair, but the thick strands at the back of his neck curled slightly. The ratty T-shirt he was wearing accentuated his wide, broad shoulders.

  He had bad boy written all over him, and quite suddenly Laurel wanted him in the worst possible way.

  Abruptly, he let go of the wrench and threw it on the workbench. Exasperation clear in every line of his gorgeous body. The movement caused the muscles in his arms and across his chest to shift temptingly as he moved. Her pulse quickened with female appreciation. He was so compelling, his magnetism so potent, she couldn’t help but respond to his stunning good looks.

  He reached down and grabbed a bottle of something and as he lifted it, he glanced up, his disarming gaze locking with hers—as bold, direct and unapologetically sexual as the man himself.

  But then he broke eye contact and turned his back. Rude and unrepentant about it, he sure did have the attitude and it piqued her interest even more.

  “That’s my mechanic, but you shouldn’t get any ideas about him.”

  Laurel felt as if she was coming out of a trance. She’d forgotten that the salesman had been standing there and a faint blush heated her cheeks. “Why not?”

  “He’s not exactly the type of guy you want to bring home to daddy.”

  Perfect. Even better than she hoped for. “He’s a rebel?”

  “Sure is. He’s got a wild streak and is too handsome for his own good. Been a chick magnet since he started producing testosterone. Unbelievably sharp, but he’s got problems with impulse control. I’d fire him if he wasn’t such a good mechanic and my brother, Mac Hayes.”

  “Another brother?”

  “I’ve got three, counting…er…my half brother Theodore.”

  “That would be Sherry’s boss, Mr. Tolliver.”

  He nodded just as Sherry came over and snagged the salesman’s attention. Laurel couldn’t move from the spot. Her bad boy had opened the bottle and was pouring some goop into his hand, then he swirled it around the piece he’d been trying to loosen.

  He wiped his hands and, once again, grabbed up the wrench. His muscles bunched as he put all his weight and force into turning the bolt. It came free with a jerk, but he was off balance. His momentum drove his fist right into the metal parts of the engine. He yelped and shook his hand out. With a low expletive, he dropped the wrench.

  Without thinking, Laurel moved through the open glass door into the repair shop. “Are you okay?”

  The man looked up at her and stared. He stared so long that she shifted. “Let me see,” she said as she reached for his hand. “You’re bleeding. Do you have a first-aid kit?”

  He inclined his head, causing a lock of sable hair to fall across his brow, accentuating his rugged appearance. “Over there on the wall,” he said, still staring at her as if she was an alien being beamed down in front of his very eyes.

  “But there’s no need to make a fuss,” he continued in that shivery low baritone, all the while attempting to pull his hand free.

  “Are we going to get into an argument, Mac?”

  The secret, wicked grin he bestowed on her made her lungs tight and sent her heart hammering into over-drive.

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  From his shaggy hair and seductive blue eyes to his muscular, hard body, he radiated rough-edged sexual energy and drew her interest like no other man.

  He looked like a big hunk of gorgeous trouble.

  Acting bolder than she’d ever been in her life, she asked. “Where’s the restroom?”

  “Over there, but customers aren’t allowed in here. It’s too dangerous. You’d better get back to the showroom.”

  Was he trying to brush her off? she wondered as she followed his pointing finger to the first-aid kit. Laurel grabbed his wrist first. The kit was portable and she removed it from the wall before heading to the restroom.

  Entering, she pulled him along with her and let go of his hand. It was a small area and with the presence of the sexy mechanic it seemed to shrink even more.

  He wasn’t going to get rid of her that easily.

  2

  You think your guy is sexiest when he’s wearing:

  a. a power suit and tie

  b. a uniform

  c. leather

  d. denim

  —Excerpt from Who’s Your Hottie? quiz,

  SPICE magazine

  “WHY DON’T YOU SIT HERE,” Laurel said, indicating the closed toilet seat. Mac sat. He raised his hand to his eyes.

  “It doesn’t look too bad,” he said. “I can handle it.”

  “How can you tell through the grime?”

  He flashed her a seductive grin. “Practice.”

  “Not the first time you’ve gotten a scrape, huh?” Beguiled, she smiled back. “You should wash so I can see the cut better.” Laurel stepped away from the sink, but the tight space in the bathroom only pushed her closer to the mechanic.

  “Hazard of the trade.”

  “I bet.”

  “I don’t usually get a gorgeous Florence Nightingale to doctor me up though.” He turned toward the sink and washed his hands with the soap nearby.

  “It’s Laurel Malone, not Florence Nightingale,” she laughed as a flutter tumbled through her at his words. Gorgeous. He thought she was gorgeous. It wasn’t a word she usually associated with her petite form, but the word on his lips
made her feel ten feet tall. “I have to confess that I don’t usually go around doctoring people,” she said as she pulled some paper towels out of the dispenser.

  “Judging by the no-nonsense command in your voice, I’d say you’d be good at it.” His eyes watched her every move.

  She shrugged. She’d never thought of herself as commanding. She wet the paper towels under the leaky faucet of the sink.

  Almost every attempt she made to dab at the cut, he effectively ducked. “Mac,” she said with exasperation. Finally she had to hold the back of his hand to keep him still.

  With each movement, she tried to ignore how the shape of his head was beautifully curved, sleek, perfect, an irresistible temptation. His face filled her view, everything centering on its planes and hollows, its shadows and the intense blue eyes. Where there’s smoke… She was suddenly caught up in that never-miss-a-thing gaze.

  “How did you know my name is Mac?” he asked softly.

  “Your brother told me,” she responded breathlessly. “He tried to sell me that little Ducati you have in the window.”

  “Did you buy?”

  “No.”

  “So then he tried to sell you me?”

  “Not exactly. I noticed you first and wanted to meet you.” Laurel spoke quietly, and her hands began to tremble.

  His eyes were full of confusion and then twinkled with interest as he stared at her. When those sexy blue eyes shifted to her neck, her skin seemed to burn. With his right hand, he gently touched her throat. “Why?”

  He sat so still, his breathing aligned with hers. His body filling the tiny room, his nearness wreathing her. When she shifted her gaze away from his, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She saw the soft pink in her cheeks, the way her lips were parted as if she were waiting for his kiss. Saw herself aroused.

  She pulled her eyes away from her reflection, wishing she could splash some cold water on her face. She ignored his question, taking great pains to clean his hand. When she finished washing away the blood, she reached for the package of bandages in the first-aid kit. Her hands fumbled with the wrapping. Gently, he took the bandage and opened it for her. Just as gently, she applied it to the back of his hand. She leaned away from him, the small of her back pressed into the rim of the sink.