To Santa With Love Page 8

  “Um, Jacquie, I . . .” He shifted uncomfortably, looking awkward as a coaxing smile curved her mouth. “I don’t really see how I could. This is just a small garage and the repair costs added up to more than I can carry.”

  “I know,” she agreed, moving toward him. “But I really need my car,” she pleaded earnestly. She wanted to reach out and clutch his arm, even if it would make her seem desperate, as if he was the only person in the world she could turn to for help.

  He swallowed nervously, his gaze focused on her moist, slightly parted lips. She could sense that he was weakening and felt a rush of power. Some men were so easily maneuvered.

  “I’d do anything.” She added the breathy promise with suggestive emphasis on the last word.

  A redness began creeping up from the neckline of his shirt. His gaze fell away, hesitating for a second on the rounded swell of her breasts, then refocusing on the desktop. Nervously he cleared his throat and Jacquie knew victory was within her grasp.

  Until a low voice pulled it out of reach. “That’s an allinclusive statement. What’s the problem here?”

  At the sound of Choya Barnett’s voice, Jacquie’s lashes closed, but she didn’t turn around. The mechanic took a quick, embarrassed step away from her, a dull red spreading across his face.

  “Choya,” the man said with a nervous half-grin. “I didn’t expect to see you in town today.”

  “I had to take Robbie to the doctor, then on to school,” he explained, but Jacquie could tell that his piercing gaze hadn’t left her back. “And no one answered my question.”

  “Well, um, it seems that Jacquie”—the mechanic darted her an anxious look—“lost her wallet or it got stolen. She, uh, doesn’t have any money.”

  “You had it yesterday at the restaurant,” Choya stated flatly.

  Jacquie breathed in deeply. How did he manage, in the space of their remarkably short acquaintance, to always find her in the worst possible situation? With a defiant toss of her head, she glanced over her shoulder, her cool gaze meeting the metallic hardness of his.

  “Yes, I did,” she said with forced calm. “But if you remember, everything in my handbag got spilled out as I was leaving. More than likely my wallet didn’t make it back in. I’m thinking someone came along, found it, and didn’t return it.”

  “Did you make the usual calls?”

  “Of course. To the restaurant and the cops.”

  “Did you leave it at your motel?” His implication was fairly obvious. He probably believed she’d conveniently forgotten the wallet in the hopes of getting out of paying the repair bill for her car.

  “No. I thought of that.”

  “It’s easy to overlook something you’re trying too hard to find. Maybe we should go and check together,” Choya suggested with a flick of a dark eyebrow.

  That was the last thing she wanted to do. But she would have to. He’d been there when it happened. And he was unbelievably observant.

  “By all means. Let’s do that.” With suppressed fury, Jacquie began stuffing the small heap of what she’d dumped out back into the handbag.

  How dare he, even indirectly, accuse her of lying? Her smile to the mechanic was determinedly sweet. There was some measure of satisfaction in seeing Choya’s mouth tighten with disgust at the smile. If he thought she was some kind of con artist, she might as well act like one. After all, she thought sarcastically as she swept through the door ahead of him, she didn’t want to disappoint the high and mighty Choya Barnett.

  “My wallet won’t be at the motel,” she declared, sliding into the passenger seat of the jeep.

  “Why? Did you hide it somewhere along the road on the way here?”

  Was that another lame attempt at a joke or an accusation? Either way, he could have kept it to himself. “No, I didn’t!” Her temper flared. “It is missing, damn it!”

  There was no doubt as to his reaction in the tawny cat eyes. He didn’t believe her. Trembling with anger, Jacquie folded her arms around her bulky handbag and stared straight ahead. Tears welled in her eyes, a result of the ferocity of her emotion.

  With the engine growling steadily, Choya turned the jeep onto the main highway. “Skip the tears,” he told her. “I don’t buy the helpless female act.”

  “I always cry when I lose my temper!” Jacquie retorted in a choked voice. “I wouldn’t waste tears trying to appeal to you.”

  “As long as we understand each other,” he said indifferently.

  “I understand you very well. You’re as stubborn as a mule once you make up your mind about something or someone,” she accused angrily. “But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “There is a possibility that your wallet is lost,” he conceded dryly, “but I wasn’t wrong either. You do seem to have a way of attracting trouble, just like I said.”

  A thousand insulting retorts sprang to mind, but Jacquie doubted that any of them would penetrate his thorny exterior. He was a cactus by name and a cactus by nature—she would be a fool to keep getting herself pricked.

  Keeping her mouth shut, she tossed him the keycard to her motel door when he stopped the jeep. She took a firm hold on her temper and blinked away the few hot tears before following him to the door. With her gaze focused on a point between the wide shoulders, it was difficult not to remember the last time he’d been in her room and the searing briefness of his kiss.

  His aggressively masculine presence dominated the small room. The unmade bed suddenly seemed to suggest an intimacy that disturbed Jacquie’s senses. She paused inside the doorway and leaned against the wall, folding her arms in front of her.

  “Search away, Choya,” she invited. “I would help, but I wouldn’t want you to accuse me later on of hiding the wallet somewhere.”

  His gaze flicked sharply to her, then scanned the room. She watched his methodical search. The motel room was sparsely furnished and it didn’t take much time for him to finish.

  “Maybe you should go through my stuff,” Jacquie suggested caustically. “I might have concealed it under the contraband.”

  Choya glanced at the overnight case near her feet. “Okay. I accept that your wallet is actually missing. Let me guess. So is all your money.”

  “Every cent of it, except three pennies that were loose in the bottom of my handbag. Plus my debit card and all my ID, not to mention old snapshots and some other little mementoes that can’t be replaced.” Her chin was thrust forward at a rebellious angle. “I am totally, one hundred percent broke, with the exception of my clothes and my car, which is technically the property of the garage, considering I can’t pay that huge repair bill.”

  “The accident was your fault.” He stood in the center of the room, tall and decidedly in command. “You can’t blame me for the damage to your car.”

  “I don’t.” She released an angry breath and straightened away from the wall.

  “You must have family or friends who’ll help you out.”

  “Yes, I do.” But she would almost rather starve than call home. Begging her parents for help when she’d been on her own for less than a week was the last thing she wanted to do. She assumed they’d picked up her message on their voicemail. She would have to fill in the blanks if she reached them in person—and tell them all about this infuriating new situation.

  “I suggest you call them,” Choya said briskly, his tone bordering on an order.

  Jacquie slid a hand through her hair, shaking its length down her back. As much as she resented his suggestion and dreaded making the phone call, it was the only logical solution now. Without money, how could she find a place to sleep or buy food or anything?

  Sighing, she walked to the phone beside the bed and placed a collect call to home. She crossed her fingers, feeling stupidly suspicious, and offered a silent prayer that her mother would answer.

  “Collect?” her father’s voice boomed at the other end of the line. “From who?”

  “Dad, it’s me, Jacquie,” she rushed, but the operator broke in, aski
ng if he would accept the reversed charges.

  “No, I won’t, by God!” he declared.

  Jacquie’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. He was still angry, apparently. Very angry.

  “She wanted to be on her own and if she wants to talk to me badly enough, she’ll pay for the phone call herself.” And the receiver was slammed down.

  Jacquie thanked the operator and hung up. Her teeth sank into her lower lip. Considering how vehemently she’d declared her independence, she could hardly blame her father. Proudly she lifted her head and met Choya’s speculating gaze.

  “Nothing doing,” she informed him, faking an air of unconcern. The truth was that her father’s hot-tempered reply hurt, probably as much as she had hurt both her parents.

  “There’s no one else you can call?”

  Jacquie considered her girlfriend Tammy in Bisbee. Newly married and starting a new job, her friend didn’t have the wherewithal to cover the amount Jacquie needed. And Jacquie wouldn’t dream of asking Tammy’s husband. She barely knew him and had shown up unannounced on Thanksgiving as it was. He’d undoubtedly refuse. So be it. She’d had it up to here with male self-righteousness anyway.

  She shook her head. “No. It’s all right,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll get by.”

  “How?” he challenged.

  “I’ll find a way,” she declared.

  “Oh, right. Like today,” Choya said in a measured voice. It aggravated her beyond belief that he was able to be so calm. “Don’t forget that I got to watch you trying to persuade Brad to let you have your car back without paying. Good luck with that.”

  “I would’ve paid him!” Jacquie flashed.

  “Yeah.” His mouth quirked sardonically. “I’d forgotten you vowed you would do anything.” His dark head was tilted to one side, his carved features set. “What would you have done if he’d taken you up on that?”

  “Oh, I’d think of something,” she answered after a beat. At his skeptical look, she added somewhat desperately, “I started filling out my jeans when I was twelve. I know a little about men and how to make them think the way I want them to.”

  Amusement teased the corners of his mouth. “Do you now.” His gold gaze moved insolently over her.

  One of her finely arched brows shot up. Jacquie wasn’t going to be dismissed by him.

  “Do you know what you sound like?” She hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans and walked the way she did in clubs to get guys to look at her when her ego needed stroking. She and her posse of girlfriends would dissolve in giggles when they did. But now she was serious. Her head was tipped back, her silver-gold hair streaming down her back. “You sound as though you’re sorry I didn’t come to you for help. Do you want me to ask you for money?”

  Something harsh flickered across his chiseled features, a suggestion of strong emotion that was quickly gone. Jacquie had seen it, but she kept the knowledge from being revealed in her eyes as she returned his speculating study.

  “Would you make me the same promise of ‘anything’ as an incentive?” His hard mouth tightened. “And forget to keep it?”

  “I wouldn’t forget.” She moistened her lips, her gaze running provocatively over his wide shoulders, then to his compelling features. “In fact, keeping a promise like that might even be fun.”

  A muscle twitched along his powerful jawline. “Do you think so?”

  “I know so,” Jacquie replied with an almost kittenish purr. “Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You still don’t trust me, do you?” She laughed throatily. This was crazy. But she couldn’t seem to stop. “You still think that I might cheat you in some way. I wouldn’t, though. I always pay my debts in full.”

  In a fluid movement, she eliminated the distance that separated them. Her hands spread over his chest to the width of his shoulders, then circled them while she pressed her soft curves against his granite length. He gripped her just above her hips, tightening as if to shove her away, then hesitated.

  Jacquie smiled slowly, certain now that she hadn’t made a mistake. She could guess what was going on in his mind. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get a grip on hers. She felt like a trapped animal. Between her own mistakes and bad luck, she was.

  “Are you beginning to see how much fun it could be, Choya?” She said his name with a seductively husky pitch to her voice.

  She heard the hiss of his sharply indrawn breath. Her fingers slid into the thick brown locks of the hair at the back of his neck. Rising on tiptoes, she touched her lips against the firm line of his mouth. Persuasively she began kissing him, lightly, tantalizingly, until his mouth was not quite so stiff against hers.

  The musky scent of aftershave clung to the sun-browned skin of his smooth cheeks, a heady combination with the warm, male scent of his body. Her heart began to race in an instinctive response.

  Pliantly she molded her body more firmly against him, letting him take her weight. The stamp of his virility was marked in every muscled inch of him, proof that he couldn’t resist her indefinitely.

  Her kiss deepened with unforced passion and his hard mouth answered the pressure, although the initiative remained hers. With a shuddering sigh tinged with regret, Jacquie took her lips from his, sliding her hands from the muscled column of his neck to his shoulders.

  Through the curling sweep of her lashes, she looked into the tawny gold of his eyes. They revealed nothing, nor did the bold, almost severe lines of his face.

  “Now do you see?” she purred. He held still. Very still.

  With the swiftness of a striking serpent, her hand lashed out at his cheek, a satisfying sting in her palm. Her eyes blazed with the fire of revenge as she twisted free of the large hands on her hips.

  “But I would never come to you!” she hissed as his cold surprise turned to icy fury. “I would never ask you for money! I don’t need your help! I don’t need anybody’s help!”

  “Don’t you?” Choya countered in a voice that was low and controlled.

  Her lips parted slightly in surprise. She had expected retaliation—verbal abuse, a barrage of insults, but not a leading question like that. Her anger evaporated with chilling swiftness as he turned away.

  Stunned, she watched him, unable to believe that she could assault his ego with no payback. She’d felt safe pretending to seduce him because she’d known he didn’t want her. He’d only played along to see how far she would go in her irrational state.

  What a sport.

  But now—now, she didn’t feel safe. His reaction hadn’t followed the pattern she’d expected. Choya wasn’t even making an outraged exit. He was walking toward the unmade bed.

  Chapter 5

  His objective wasn’t the bed. It was the phone. Without a glance at Jacquie, he picked up the receiver and dialed a number. She was still staring at him in shock when he turned around to hold her gaze.

  “Brad?” he said into the receiver. “This is Choya. How much was Jacquie Grey’s repair bill again?” He paused, listening to what must have been a breakdown. “I’m going to pay it—never mind about the insurance for now. Yes, you heard me right. Just give me the total one more time.”

  Her mouth opened to protest, but nothing came out. Her gaze followed the black receiver as it was returned to its cradle. She trembled. The storm inside her had broken and she could think again. But she wondered why she felt so numb.

  “You’re expensive, Jacquie.” His low voice said her name with insulting emphasis. “It’s going to take some time to get my money’s worth.”

  Her gaze flew to his face. “I wasn’t serious and you know it,” she breathed.

  A dark eyebrow arched with amusement. “No? You made me an interesting proposition. I think I’ll take you up on it.”

  “I didn’t proposition you!” Jacquie protested in shocked astonishment.

  “What would you like to call it? Bribery?”

  “I . . .” She faltered, the words stammering off the end of her flustered tongue. “
I was jerking your chain.”

  “Good and hard,” he pointed out.

  “But I told you I would never c-come to you.”

  “Suit yourself.” The wide shoulders shrugged with his even reply. “But it’s the only way you’ll get your car.”

  “You can’t keep it. It’s mine,” she declared frantically. “The title’s in my name. I’m not going to sign it over to you.”

  “Oh well. I don’t have to drive it.” There was a wicked glint in his eyes. “The way I see it, the car is mine until the debt against it is paid in full. Either pay me the money or we’ll revert to the old system of bartering goods and services for payment.”

  Jacquie swallowed. “Very funny. I’ll send you the money, I swear I will.”

  The grooves on either side of his mouth deepened. “As you pointed out, I don’t trust you. Payment in advance is the only thing I’ll accept.”

  Appealing to him was useless. Jacquie reached down into her shaken soul for a bit of bravado. She slid her trembling hands into the pockets of her jeans and boldly met his look.

  “All right, I’ll pay you,” she agreed. “I’ll get a job and earn the money.”

  Her assertion only seemed to amuse him more. “Doing what, and where? Not here in Tombstone. The tourist season is just about over and we’re not exactly a Christmas destination. There aren’t any jobs to be had. What would you do for a place to sleep and food to eat in the meantime? I’m offering you both for the same price you’d have to pay to any other man.”

  “There are people other than men on this earth!” Jacquie fired back, his logic cornering her.

  “But your feminine wiles wouldn’t work very well on a woman,” Choya reminded her. “What do you intend to do about your motel bill? The manager is a woman, remember? I don’t think Mrs. Chase would take it kindly if you tried to skip out without paying. In the eyes of the law, you’re a vagrant with no visible means of support and no money and no possessions of any value.”

  “Mrs. Chase is very nice and she just happens to like me—”

  He interrupted her heated reply. “Maybe so but she has bills to pay too. Of course, you could get a lawyer and plead your case in small claims court to get your car back. It’s every other Thursday during the tourist season if you can get a slot. After that, it’s once a month. The circuit judge gets here when he can.”