Sensual Stranger

  Sensual Stranger

  Tina Donahue

  Into his life she came—wanting…willing…wanton.

  It’s no ordinary morning when Toni arrives at Zach’s garage. Flat broke, with a past she won’t share, Toni is instantly taken by such a potently virile man. Direct and unashamed, she tells him she’s a motorcycle performance artist who needs work and knows motors.

  Zach knows women, and Toni is unlike any he’s met. Lushly sensuous, exceedingly assured, she’d easily be his match in business and bed. A provocative challenge that stirs him as nothing has since losing his wife. A chance he’s reluctant to take. He offers no more than a month’s employment then she’ll have to be on her way.

  The hours tick by. Each word and glance intensifies their escalating desire, forcing them to surrender to passion and Toni’s need for Zach’s dominance. Driven by carnal hunger, conquered by yearning, they face the unforeseen truth of Toni’s past and a future neither of them expected.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Sensual Stranger

  ISBN 9781419932366

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Sensual Stranger Copyright 2010 Tina Donahue

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Cover art by Valerie Tibbs

  Electronic book publication December 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Sensual Stranger

  Tina Donahue

  Dedication

  To those lucky individuals who’ve had a second chance at love.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Advil: American Home Products Corporation

  American Express: American Express Company Corporation

  Betty Boop: Fleischer Studios, Inc. Corporation

  Budweiser: Anheuser-Busch, Incorporated Corporation

  Cadillac: General Motors LLC

  Camel: R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Company Corporation

  Chrysler: Chrysler Group LLC

  Coke: The Coca-Cola Company Corporation

  Coors: Coors Brewing Company Corporation

  Dodge: DaimlerChrysler Corporation

  Ford: Ford Motor Company Corporation

  Formica: Formica Corporation

  Fruit of the Loom: Fruit of the Loom, Inc. Corporation

  Honda: Giken Kogyo Kabushiki Kaisha-Honda Motor Company, LTD

  Hyundai: Hyundai Motor Company Stock Company Republic of Korea

  Jockey: Jockey International, Inc.

  Johnny Cash: Cash, John R. DBA Johnny Cash Individual

  Lexus: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha TA Toyota Motor Corporation

  Lincoln: Ford Motor Company Corporation

  MasterCard: MasterCard International Incorporated Corporation

  Saturn: Saturn Corporation

  Tim McGraw: McGraw, Tim Individual

  Toyota: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha TA Toyota Motor Corporation

  Tylenol: The Tylenol Company Corporation

  Visa: Visa International Service Association Corporation

  Windows: Microsoft Corporation

  Yahoo!: Yahoo! Inc.

  YouTube: Google Inc.

  YWCA: National Board of the Young Women’s Christian Association of the U.S.A.

  Chapter One

  With her left shoulder propped against a wooden building, she caught sight of a man across the street.

  Her pulse picked up. She forgot to breathe.

  He stood near the far left bay of Brody’s Auto Repair. In his large hand, she saw a clipboard with several sheets of paper, possibly work orders. Head lifted, he regarded the shop’s metal doors as they finished rattling upward, opening for the day’s business. A quick glance told her no other employees had arrived, nor were there any customers waiting at the building’s glass front door.

  The strains of an old Tim McGraw song poured from inside the work area, the singer’s resonant voice subdued by heartache.

  Her attention returned to the man. Seconds before she’d been fatigued, uncertain. Now a buzz of interest coursed through her as she trickled her gaze down his impressive length. Surely over six feet, looking to be in his early thirties, he filled out his white cotton tee and worn jeans nicely.

  She managed a small breath, needing it as her gaze caressed the solid planes of his body—broad shoulders, sculpted chest, muscular biceps. Faded denim hugged his powerful legs and the meaty bulge behind his fly.

  Despite the day’s mounting heat, her mouth watered. She lifted her gaze from his scuffed cowboy boots back to the thick ridge of male flesh between his legs.

  He turned to the side, taking it from her view.

  Disappointed, she glanced at his hair, light brown with streaks of blond, worn longish on the top and sides, wonderfully tousled. As though he’d combed it with his fingers when he’d rolled out of bed this morning.

  He certainly hadn’t shaved.

  Inhaling deeply this time, she released her breath in a sigh at those short, dark bristles shadowing his cheeks, firm jaw and upper lip, his beginning beard virile and wholly masculine, complementing his rich, sensuous mouth.

  Her pulse drubbed as she continued to stare. Her mind wandered wantonly, imagining the contradiction of his rough cheeks and the warm softness of his lips, the heat of his breath seconds before a demanding kiss. His big body pressed close, intimidating yet protective, the smell of his skin, the feel of his erection, the weight of his full length against hers.

  Unaware of her scrutiny, he turned his head to a red Saturn in the garage’s middle bay. As he moved toward the car, she noticed how he favored his right leg. Not a limp exactly, more a hesitation in his fluid gait, the way a man would walk after straining the muscles in his left calf.

  She noted the flicker of pain on his handsome face and something beneath it that looked like sorrow or regret.

  As quickly as it came, it passed. His features became impassive, all business, his attention moving from the car to the clipboard he held, then to something on the other side of the work area. Crossing it, he again favored his right leg, stopping at a small refrigerator. After selecting a bottle of water, he brought it to a waist-high metal cabinet that no doubt held tools. Forearms on it, he bent his head to the papers, reading the first, then the next.

  She wondered if he owned the place or simply managed it. If he’d listen to her. If he’d have the authority to do what she wanted. No, her mind amended quickly. Not what she wanted, what she needed.

  Desperation returned. A bead of perspiration
trickled down her cheek. Raising her chin, she squinted at the unforgiving sun. It streamed past distant mountains and over the tops of the flat-faced buildings on her side of the street, hitting the garage full on, bathing it in the light, seeming to direct her.

  Go on, she ordered herself, before anyone else shows up.

  On a deep breath, she pushed away from the building, a gift shop not yet opened for the day. The rest of the small downtown area was equally quiet, the storefront businesses closed. No cars moved down the narrow two-lane street. No locals or visitors noticed her direction. Nor did he. His head remained bent to the papers, his shoulders relaxed, his long fingers tucking wayward strands of hair behind his ear.

  With the sun at her back and her heart picking up speed, she headed for him.

  Surrendering to a yawn, Zach Brody reached for his bottled water. His fingers connected with the chilled, damp plastic only to pause, not bringing it closer as a gentle breeze wafted in. On it, he caught an unexpected fragrance, a decadent mixture of leather and lavender. Bold yet gentle. Hard yet soft.

  Before he could look up, a shadow fell across the metal cabinet and today’s work orders. Head lifting, he glanced over and saw the source of the sudden shade…a woman silhouetted by the outside light. It skimmed the ends of her hair, cut in what appeared to be a layered style, the color so black there were faint blue highlights. With her features hidden by the glare from behind, Zach dipped his gaze lower, taking in her full length, noting she was tall and curvy with long legs.

  Heat rushed from his chest to his groin. Involuntarily, his cock stirred, proving what he already knew. Although his heart had been immune for nearly two years to the complications of love, the possibility of loss, his body continued to lust.

  The muscles in his torso tightened. Every bit of moisture in his mouth dried up. Unable to stop himself, he studied the curve of her hips and sleek thighs.

  She shifted her weight, lowering something to the concrete floor.

  Zach looked to see what it was.

  She asked, “Are you the owner?”

  His gaze jumped up. New warmth arrowed down to his cock, making it even stiffer, tightening his balls. Seductive didn’t begin to describe her smoky voice. The deep, throaty pitch reminded him of how a woman sounds after she’s been sated by sex—a long, hard, satisfying fuck on a blistering summer afternoon.

  Awaiting his answer, she adjusted her weight, moving slightly to the left.

  Zach squinted at the sun hitting him full in the eyes. Head turned, he pushed away from the cabinet, pausing at the pain and stiffness in his left leg. Gritting his teeth, he gave his limb a moment to relax before stepping to the side, his gaze returning to her. Journeying over her.

  His pulse quickened at her snug leather pants and jacket, both garments supple and black, the outfit covering her from toes to throat, surprising him. Although it wasn’t yet eight o’clock, late spring mornings in this part of Arizona heated up fast. From a cool sixty degrees at sunrise, the temps had already reached the mid-seventies. Hadn’t she noticed?

  Zach regarded her biker boots, the helmet hanging from her left hand and the fringed saddlebag she’d lowered to the floor. Irresistibly drawn back to her, he noticed how the leather molded itself to her full, ripe breasts.

  They moved slightly as she inhaled.

  It reminded him to breathe. Pulling his gaze from her chest, he got his first good look at her face.

  Something inside him shifted, heightening his senses, his awareness of colors, textures. Her pale skin had a dewy quality only youth could provide, telling him she couldn’t be more than mid-twenties. Her blue-green eyes were amazing. There simply wasn’t another word to fit such an unusual shade. Coupled with her raven hair and all the leather she wore, he couldn’t stop staring. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen or even conventionally pretty.

  Rather, she was decidedly interesting and effortlessly sensual without seeming to realize it. Her full lips, a pale pink and absent of lipstick, seemed to beg for a kiss. Her gaze—direct, yet oddly vulnerable—had surely made any number of men do whatever she’d proposed.

  Zach ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, hoping to moisten it. He watched a bead of perspiration slide from her temple to her downy cheek. A strand of damp hair stuck to it.

  Eye lifting, he caught her sneaking a glance at the water he’d left on the cabinet.

  Grabbing the bottle, he twisted off the cap and offered her the beverage along with an answer to what she’d asked, a question he just recalled. “Yeah, I’m the owner. Zach Brody.”

  Her attention flicked from the bottle to him and back. “Thanks.” She took the water, her fingertips touching his.

  Currents of sensation stole his breath, stalling his next comment. Releasing the bottle, he glanced to the left, scanning the street for her bike. That had to be why she’d stopped here, to get it repaired. Of course, that didn’t begin to explain why she’d dressed as she had when she was obviously baking in the soaring heat.

  Zach focused on her saddlebag, then her kick-ass boots. After a momentary struggle, he surrendered and allowed himself another glance at her face.

  Eyes closed, head tilted back, she enjoyed long gulps of the chilled water. With each swallow, her slender throat bobbed. He saw a faint blue vein on the right side of her neck and had an insane urge to touch it.

  Hands at his side, he resisted.

  She stopped drinking, the lip of the bottle still to her mouth. A small whimper of delight escaped her.

  Zach told himself to get her another bottle.

  Not moving, he watched a wayward breeze stirring the ends of her hair. Past the opened bay doors, the town began to come alive. A pickup or car’s tires hummed down the street. The door of a vehicle made a brief smacking sound as someone closed it. Faint voices drifted from the direction of Hector and Em’s diner.

  In here, the radio played a LeAnn Rimes tune. Her clear, powerful voice swept across the work area as she sang about living without her man.

  The young woman upended the bottle and finished the last of the liquid. Eyes still closed, she brought the container down, pressing it to her forehead, her cheek, her throat, moaning softly at its cool bite.

  Zach’s heart beat out of time. To regulate the damn thing, he inhaled as deeply as he could. Didn’t help. With his gaze still on her, he backed up to the fridge and pulled out another bottle.

  Her lids fluttered, opening to pleasured slits. She watched his approach, her tongue snaking out of her mouth, the dark pink edge gliding over her plump bottom lip.

  Stopping well short of her, conscious of his sprinting pulse, Zach put out his hand for the empty bottle.

  She delivered it with a smile.

  As if it had a mind of its own, the corners of his mouth tilted upward, betraying his approval. His hand closed around hers, his touch lingering, imprisoning her slender fingers as his gaze shifted back to her eyes.

  She studied him without self-consciousness or guile, the same as he studied her. A rush of something passed between them, inviting him closer.

  Zach locked his knees, remaining where he stood, surprised at his reaction. Since losing Meg, he hadn’t—or rather his mind hadn’t—responded this strongly to any woman and certainly not a customer.

  Warning himself to cool it, he took the empty bottle from her and offered the new one.

  She regarded his hand, which no longer touched her. Several emotions passed over her face—what seemed to be disappointment, embarrassment, resignation—almost too swift to catch.

  Releasing a sigh, she murmured, “Thanks.”

  He heard sudden hesitation in her voice and nodded, experiencing his own. He waited until she’d enjoyed a fourth of this water before he asked, “What’s wrong with your bike?”

  Finishing her swallow, holding the bottle to her cheek, she inhaled deeply. Her lids slipped down. “My bike?”

  “Your cycle,” he amended.

  Chin lifted to the ceili
ng, she exposed her neck so she could roll the water bottle over it. A position leaving her throat vulnerable to a man’s mouth, his lips pressed to her moist flesh.

  At his crazy thoughts, Zach’s skin flushed. He cleared his throat. His muscles were so tight, his voice still rasped. “Whatever you drove to get here.”

  She lifted the bottle to her temple and shook her head gently.

  Mystified, he asked, “You did drive here, right?”

  “No.” She finished another long sip, using the back of her hand to wipe off her mouth. Beads of water clung tenaciously to the corners.

  Zach pulled his attention from them to her eyes, still amazed at their color. In a distracted voice, he asked, “So how’d you get here?”

  “I hitched a ride.” She rested the bottle on her left wrist. Her black helmet swung back and forth like a pendulum. “And then I walked.”

  Without thinking, he glanced at her biker boots and the bottom of her leather pants, finally noticing the dark brown dust on them. She’d walked? “From where?”

  “The next town over. I don’t recall its name.”

  The only town in the vicinity happened to be several miles north and not connected to this one by a local road. The sole way to get to it by car was over the interstate. On foot, as the crow flies, one had to hike through a wash bordered by chaparral thick with cottonwood trees, junipers, snakes, scorpions and lizards. Which she’d obviously done.

  So what was she doing here, thirsty and no doubt tired from her trek?

  Glancing up, he caught her licking the right side of her mouth. The movement caused a droplet on the left to slide down her chin. Sparkling in the sun, the water hung on for a moment before falling to her jacket near her right breast.

  With concentrated effort, Zach directed his attention back to her eyes. He forced his voice to sound far more casual than his body wanted to allow. “And you’re here in my garage because?”