CHAPTER 11 (2)

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Nathalie had pulled her hair up into a sexy, messy knot held by a butterfly clip. Loose tendrils flirted with her seductively bare shoulders. But it was the silver toe ring on the middle toe of her right foot that really got Darius going. It should have been unexpected. To anyone else, it might even seem out of character. But not to him. Because he already knew about the secret wildness inside her that was practically bursting to come out. Even if she clearly thought she needed to keep it firmly tamped down. “Pile in.” He pointed to the golf cart parked just inside the roll-up door.  




“Cool, I can’t believe we’re going to ride in that!” Everything excited Zion, from overalls to golf carts. “Makes it easier to come back down the hill if I need something here.” Although Darius had outfitted the barn with everything he could possibly need when he was building the Mercury Cougar, the golf cart and the path he’d built made it easier to travel back and forth. “I almost forgot.” Nathalie backed off so that his hand fell away from the heat of her skin. “I brought lunch. And drinks. I hope you like peanut butter and jelly.” He’d planned on having his housekeeper, Mrs. Oswald, bring up a tray around noon, but it was sweet that Nathalie had planned ahead. “My favorite,” he told her. He hadn’t eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich since Sally made them for lunch every day when she’d sent them all off to school, but back then it really had been his favorite. 





At least, when he hadn’t been getting into too much trouble to eat lunch. “Climb into the backseat,” he told Zion, then jetted the golf cart out to Nathalie, swinging it around so that she could climb in beside him. She carried a six-pack of water bottles and an insulated lunch bag. As soon as she was seated, he couldn’t resist reaching out to brush away a lock of hair from her gorgeous mouth. Once the strand was gone, however, he let his hand linger on her soft skin, appreciating the way her eyes dilated slightly with an awareness she couldn’t hide. “Thank you for taking care of us, Nathalie. Guys working on cars don’t think to stop and eat. But we’re going to need our sustenance.” Then he added over his shoulder, “Isn’t that right, Zion?” “Right, Darius.” He moved his hand from her cheek to rest lightly over hers as he whisked them up the hill, feeling Nathalie’s gaze on him. “Stop teasing,” she said softly. “Teasing?” He lifted one eyebrow. “I’m perfectly serious.” And he was. He intended to make her crazy. As crazy for him as he already was for her. The prospect already had his blood rushing. She tried to look stern. “You know what I mean.” 




He knew exactly what she meant. And he had a lot more planned for her. Touching, teasing, flirting—anything that would remind her of every single wicked intention he’d whispered against her skin in her kitchen a week and a half ago. He wanted the woman who’d grabbed his shirt and dragged his mouth down to hers out by the old aqueduct. And since something told him she was secretly dying for that, too, he’d do whatever he could to bring out that thrill-seeking side of her again. 





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With each zing of Darius' fingers on her arm and her shoulder and her back, Nathalie felt a little crazier. Resisting him was the rational choice—the safe choice—but staying rational around Darius was one of the hardest things she’d ever tried to do. “You’ve got quite a setup here,” she said, attempting to divert her focus away from how much she wanted him. “I converted the barn when I was building the Mercury Cougar.” The barn floor had been filled in with concrete and covered with black and white checkerboard squares. A car lift was central to the huge workspace, and above was a suspension system that Darius explained could be used to lower the engine block and transmission into place, and even the fiberglass car body. 





Ringing the floor space were rolling tool chests, workbenches, an air compressor, a welding machine, bins of rivets, pins, nuts, bolts, and screws, along with racks of drills, electric screwdrivers, and other tools, all in pristine condition. The second they stepped inside, Zion ran around asking Darius what everything was. Darius not only patiently answered Zion’s questions, but he actually seemed to enjoy explaining. It was another big point for him in the plus column, at least where her brother was concerned. Darius turned to the covered item centered over the lift. “And here is the object of our desire.” 





He stood so close that their arms brushed. Thrill bumps rose along with the fine, nearly invisible hairs on her forearms, like a static shock from too much friction. His mouth curved as he glanced down at her, knowing full well what he was doing with his double engenders. No question about it, he enjoyed teasing her way too much. But the secret truth was that she enjoyed it, too, even if she shouldn’t. When she was with Darius, Nathalie felt young and sexy and giddy for the first time in a very, very long time. Darius whipped away the tarp, and Zion said, “Wow,” on a soft note of awe. “That’s exactly what I said when I first saw it,” Darius said with equal reverence. “What is it?” Nathalie asked as she stared at the contraption. 





It looked like a twisted metal cage. Or a complicated set of monkey bars on a playground. Rods were stuck together seemingly every which way, but also with a synergistic sense of purpose she couldn’t fathom. “It’s the frame of the car,” Darius explained. “How could you have had this made in less than two weeks?” Suddenly, she felt the awe. For Darius and what he could accomplish. “I offered a bonus so the factory would work around the clock.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if it hadn’t cost a staggering amount. All Darius had to do was snap his fingers, and poof, there was a complex car frame sitting in his retrofitted barn. She knew he was rich, but this was the power to have anything he wanted. Anything at all. And he’d said he wanted her. 





A hot shiver shot through her body...along with a healthy dose of tension as she reminded herself that rich men played by their own rules. By now, she knew that Darius was nothing like the man who’d paid her parents to make his son’s car accident go away. But at the same time, no matter how nice Darius seemed, she and Zion lived in a very different world. Nathalie wasn’t intimidated by much anymore, but she wasn’t going to lie and say that Darius' world of infinite luxury and power wasn’t overwhelming. “It’s called a space frame,” Darius told them. “Or a tube frame.” He trailed a finger down a metal pipe, and Nathalie felt it as though he’d run that finger down her arm. 





“We’re going to attach the sheet metal and just about every single part somewhere on this frame.” He signaled Zion closer. Nathalie leaned in, too. “Each tube is for something specific.” He pointed. “This is where we’ll attach the firewall between the engine and the cockpit.” He patted the air over where she assumed the driver would sit. “Here is where we’ll put the floor panels.” His words drew a picture, and Nathalie could almost see the leather seats. “Those are the pieces we’ve got for the time being. The rest will be here next Friday.” He wrapped his hand around Nathalie's, and with her fingers engulfed in his, he took her back for the larger view. Zion followed suit. Together, the three of them stared at the hunk of metal. Suddenly she saw it. 





“It’s like a Alfieri surrounding the driver.” No wonder they called it the Maserati Alfieri 1960. “All we have to do is put her parts together, shape her, and bring her to life. With loving hands.” Though they were talking about a car, with her hand in his and his heated gaze burning up every inch of her skin, Nathalie felt as though he was slowly bringing her to life, too...patiently working to uncover and unleash the sensual woman hidden inside of her with every word, every look, and every touch. Darius grabbed his camera off the workbench. “We need to document our work progress as we go along.” He snapped a couple of shots of the bare frame, then waved Nathalie into the picture. “It should be Zion in the photo,” she protested, hanging back. “Not me.” “Sorry, but he’s not the hot babe we need for our hot car shots.” She glared at his teasing use of the term hot babe, and he wanted to kiss the disapproval right off her pretty lips.