When speed and seduction combine, sparks are sure to fly.
Some girls enjoy makeup, low-cut dresses, and bedding famous men. Not me. I’m happiest in my oily overalls, with my hands in an engine, chatting with the guys on my team about aerodynamics and wing position.
So when infamous Formula One champion, Dean Cudditch, comes into my life, I’m content to leave him to his lothario ways. Dean seems on top of the world when draped with adoring female fans, and I refuse to be another of the champ’s conquests.
However, as I get to know the real Dean Cudditch, I begin to see a softer side to him that makes him all the sexier. My resolve crumbles when he admits that it’s my mechanical mind and engineering know-how that turn him on. Before I know it, I’m racing down the fast lane of seduction, passion, and lust. One thing is for sure: when Dean is behind the wheel, it’s going to be one hot ride.
“But…you’re a girl.”
“Er, yeah, last time I looked.” Frankie resisted the temptation to throw a wrench at the gorgeous man standing in front of her.
“She’s the best of the best.” Eric Tucker, the man who’d hired her, rested his hand on her shoulder in a fatherly gesture.
“Well, obviously I need the best of the best. It’s what I’m used to.” Dean Cudditch, Formula One champion, shifted the helmet in his hand and continued to stare at Frankie as if she were some kind of alien lifeform.
“And you’ve been trying to replace Ruben for the last few years,” Eric said, “but it hasn’t been happening. Now is the time to get a lead engineer like Frankie on board.”
“I can do the job,” Frankie said. “Wouldn’t be standing here if I couldn’t.”
What a prick. Why should he need convincing? She had top university qualifications, practical know-how, the experience. Hell, she had experience coming out of her ears. Five years traveling the world on the Ferrari team did that to a person.
Dean frowned and rubbed at the crease marks on his forehead. The fireproof mask he’d worn when driving must have had a kink in it during his training lap. “And you’re Australian.”
“And that’s a problem because…?” Fuck it, amazeballs driver or not, she was going to kick him in the balls in a minute.
“It’s not a problem.” He kind of shrugged, and the cream all-in-one racing suit he wore creased around his collarbones. “Just haven’t heard of you.”
“It’s a big world. You can’t possibly know everyone.” And she was beginning to wish she didn’t know him. Sure, she’d admired him from afar for years. What woman wouldn’t? He ticked all the boxes—sexy, talented, rich, dangerous—though now he was adding asshole to the list she suddenly wasn’t as keen as she had been.
“The world of Formula One isn’t that big. It’s the same people doing the rounds year after year.” He frowned.
“Yeah, well, I’m a highly qualified engineer, not an adoring groupie. Maybe that’s why you’ve missed me while you were bedding all those other women who follow drivers around, strutting their stuff at parties in tight dresses but can’t tell one end of the car from the other.” She was on a roll. “And I wear this so you can’t see my tits.” She plucked at the shapeless oil-stained overall she wore. “So perhaps that’s why I didn’t appear on your radar. Well, I’ll tell you something. I’ve been working the circuits, managing a team, a winning team, I might add, and if it hadn’t been for Eric doubling my salary, I wouldn’t be standing in front of your misogynistic, misinformed, egotistical sorry ass now, would I? And, while we’re on the subject—”
“Okay.” Harold squeezed her shoulder. “We get your point.” He coughed as though uncomfortable.
Frankie swallowed down her next words which were a combination of player, jerk, and risk-taker.
One side of Dean’s mouth twitched.
She wasn’t sure if it was the start of a smile or if he wanted to retaliate to her outburst.
He narrowed his eyes and continued to survey her.
She bit on her bottom lip to prevent speaking further.
Sometimes, Francesca May, try thinking things instead of saying them.
Her mother’s words came back to her. Damn it, this wasn’t a good start to her new job. Dean had to trust her with his life. He’d be depending on her for not just glory but also safety, and she’d called him a whole ream of unpleasantries the moment they’d met.
“Well then,” Dean said, his voice unnervingly calm. “Seems like you can talk the talk…what did you say your name was?”
“Frankie. Frankie Wright.”
“Ah, yes, Frankie. As I was saying, it seems like you can talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?”
She beat down a wave of irritation that swarmed within her. Wasn’t that what she’d just said? “Yes.”
About the Author:
Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning, best-selling author of contemporary erotic romance. After giving up a busy career in nursing she now spends her time enjoying her army of rescued pets and penning steamy stories. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including, HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride Publishing, Evernight and Sweetmeat Press. She also self-publishes novels that range from emotionally charged erotic romance, to steamy ménage a trois and, with Natalie Dae, (Harlem Dae) dark BDSM that pushes all the boundaries.
One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem and in whichever pairing or genre takes your fancy, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy so make sure you hang on tight for the ride!
For more information on other books by Lily, visit her website: www.lilyharlem.com.
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