Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports) Read Online Free Page B

back and between her breasts. She tented her hand over her eyes and looked slowly up at him. Light brown hair curled around the edges of his shirt where it opened at the neck. Her fingers itched to touch it, to see if it was a soft as it looked. Would it swirl in lovely whorls down that flat stomach?
    “Are you all right, ma’am?”
    “I, uh… I’m fine, thanks.” Get a grip, Blade . “We just need some gas. We’ll be fine.”
    He reached for the gas can as she stood there like an idiot. “I’ll just give you a hand with this, then. It looks heavy.”
    She could hear the poor little lady tone in his voice. It was like being doused with cold water. “I said I’m fine. Don’t bother getting your clothes dirty.”
    He shook his head. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll hold the funnel for you.” He walked toward the back of the truck with the gas can and funnel, leaving her no choice but to follow.
    She reached the truck and stepped in front of him. Cell phone still in hand, Lynn was staring through the back window at the man, her mouth hanging open and eyes wide.
    What was her problem? Kansans were good people. They didn’t mind stopping to help the weary traveler. She’d been through here often enough to know. There was absolutely no reason to be nervous.
    She removed the gas cap and grabbed the funnel out of his hand, quickly shoving it in the receptacle without looking. “Hold this, I’ll pour the gas.”
    “Are you on your way to a race?” As he held the funnel, she saw him glance back at the side of the trailer emblazoned with a neon-green number seventy-one riding high atop her sponsor’s logo.
    Morgan did her best to reel in her frustration, wrapping her professional demeanor around her like a protective blanket. That’s it, close off the feelings and paste on the sunny smile. Yep, got it down pat. Experience had taught her over the years that race fans came from all walks of life. She smiled up at him while she poured the gas from the container into the funnel. “As a matter of fact, I am. Are you a fan of auto racing?”
    *
    Fan, my ass, Tyler thought irritably. This one was going to be a handful; he could see it coming. He had just gotten off the phone with his irate director, calling to report that Morgan had “slipped away” from the track. They’d no idea where to look for her in such a rural setting. It was dumb luck that she’d broken down on I-70, the main route through Kansas, or he wouldn’t have been able to find her, either.
    The last thing he needed was to have to babysit wayward contestants. According to the rules, he could kick her off the show right now. Make her an example to the others to keep them in line.
    He looked down at her soft smiling lips. No lipstick stained the dusty pink color. The supple muscles in her arms bunched and stretched when she lifted the gas can. It looked like she did this sort of stuff all the time. His attention was captured by her lacy bra, visible through her thin white t-shirt. It provided the perfect framework for breasts that looked as though they wanted to pour gloriously out of captivity .
    Whoa, boy. She was far prettier than film gave her credit for. The camera hadn’t caught the energy she exuded. It was like standing too close to the heat of a midnight campfire—you knew it could burn you, but it felt too good, and it was too beautiful to back away. Heat sluiced its way through his skin and wrapped him in tight knots of lust.
    He admired her bravado. She didn’t appear at all nervous or afraid of being broken down on the side of the road. Quite capable, really, she didn’t need his help. It was refreshing, considering where he came from. Women were always throwing themselves at him, calling because their car had broken down, or with some other tenuous excuse to meet him for dinner.
    The blonde in the truck continued to stare at him. She had recognized him. He could tell by the look on her face. The emotions were always the same: at first