Drop Dead Gorgeous

Not only would he break Bobby’s record, but he would disprove beyond a doubt what he’d started to suspect—that he was, indeed, as geeky as everyone thought.

Tempting a woman determined not to be tempted would be the ultimate proof, not to mention he’d spent a lot of years wishing he could go back and re-do that first horrific kiss.

His memory stirred and he saw the disappointment in her eyes, the reluctance to try it again.

The image fueled his determination and he gave her his most seductive smile. “You’ve got yourself a deal, darlin’.”

DARLIN’? SINCE WHEN DID Dillon Cash use the term darlin’?

Since he’s morphed into a megalicious stud-muffin who makes you want to rip off your panties and do the happy dance all over him.

Not that she would.

Shewas through taking the lead. Shewanted a man towant her so badly that he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. A man who would gladly rip off his boxers and do the happy dance all over her.

Holding tight to her resolve, she drew a deep breath and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as she walked back toward the motel lobby.

She could feel his gaze on her and awareness zipped through her. Her nipples pebbled and she became painfully aware of the way the lace cups of her bra rubbed back and forth with the slight swinging motion of her arms. Her blue jean skirt tugged and pulled and her thighs actually trembled.

Thanks to Dillon and his suddenly overwhelming sex appeal.

As tempting as he was, she couldn’t deny her good fortune. She’d definitely found the key to her future success. Once they started lessons—

Her thoughts slammed to a halt. She’d been so anxious to escape her traitorous thoughts that she hadn’t proposed a time and date for their first session.

“What about tomorrow morning—” she said, but the words died as she turned and found the walkway empty.

June bugs bumped against the single bulb that lit the concrete path. Her gaze traveled back to the spot where he’d stood and she eyed the closed door.

No rustle of denim as he’d turned. No creak of metal as he’d opened the door…No thud as the door had shut behind him. Nothing.

One minute, she’d felt his gaze and the next…poof. He’d disappeared.

Right.

She ignored the strange tingling that worked its way up her spine. He wasn’t actually gone. He was inside and she’d obviously been too wound up in her thoughts and her body’s traitorous response to notice the details.

Grasping at the explanation, she fought down the notion that something wasn’t quite right and turned back toward the lobby.

She would give him a call in the morning and set up a meeting. Maybe midmorning. While she didn’t have any men’s clothes in her shop, she could take his measurements and then do some online shopping later. He would tell her what books he’d been reading, give her some pointers, and then they could head over to Uncle Buck’s for a makeup lunch.

Thanks to her lustful thoughts and her desperate attempt for a diversion, she had a sudden craving for double pepperoni that even a dozen pleasure bites couldn’t touch.

A craving that haunted her for the next hour as she turned in her homework, finished her class and headed home. A craving that drove her straight to her kitchen in search of satisfaction, aka junk food.

In massive quantities if possible.

Since it was the end of the week and she hadn’t yet made it to the grocery store, she quickly ruled out massive and settled for Babe’s three remaining Twinkies. She also snatched up what was left of a bottle of wine she’d received from one of her customers the Christmas before last.

Bottle in one hand and sponge cake in the other, she headed upstairs and tried not to think about Dillon and whether or not he’d improved in the kissing department.

Obviously, he had. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have every woman in town falling all over him.

Most of the women in town, that is.

They were just friends, she told herself as she peeled off her clothes and crawled into bed.

Just like she saw the real Dillon, he saw the real Meg. The one who hadn’t managed to cancel her subscription to Sports Illustrated. The one who still tossed around a baseball in the back-yard every now and then when she was sure her neighbors weren’t looking.

Which explained why he’d done little more than flirt with her tonight. Not that she’d wanted him to do more.

It was the principle that mattered.

Obviously, like everyone else in town, he just couldn’t see the Hot Chick that Meg had become.

Not yet.

Not ever a voice whispered. One she quickly ignored as she devoured two of the three cakes, downed a long sip of wine and snuggled under the sheets.

If Dillon could convince an entire town full of people he’d known since birth, so could she. Even more, she could be convincing enough to get herself into Tilly’s top ten.

All she had to do was buckle down, learn everything she could from Dillon, and not jump his bones in the process.

No problem. Manhandler Meg was ancient history.

At least that’s what she told herself.

5

SHE NEEDED HIM TO SEX her up.

Even more, she wanted him to sex her up.

Dillon sat in the small office that housed the administrative portion—aka a desk, a file cabinet and a state-of-the-art computer system—of Skull Creek Choppers and tried to push Meg and her proposition completely out of his head.

The truth echoed through his head, tightening his groin and stirring the damned need that twisted his gut. He fought against the sensations and tried to focus. He had work to do. He was smack-dab in the middle of developing custom-design software for a new line of choppers being introduced in the Fall.

He’d spent the past hour since leaving the motel hard at work on the templates that would be the starter point for each bike. At the moment, Jake and Garret were working from a sketch only, crafting the cycles from the ground up and dealing with problems as they arose during the building process. The computer program Dillon was developing would simplify everything and allow them to foresee any structural and/or mechanical problems before they encountered them. They would be able to enter in the measurements and must-haves for each bike. The computer would process the information and put together a cyber model, pinpointing errors and “fixing” them before any actual fabrication. Dillon was just days away from putting the final touches on the program, which meant he didn’t need a distraction right now.

He stared at a particular line of code, but instead of seeing the sequence of numbers and letters, he saw Meg, her lips so full and kissable, her blue eyes filled with determination.

A sliver of excitement went through him, followed by a wave of disbelief. He still couldn’t grasp the fact that she’d asked for his help. Thanks to his ability to read minds, he now knew she never asked a man for anything.

Never demanded or pushed or manhandled.

Not anymore.

She’d sworn off any and all aggressive behavior when it came to sex. She wanted a man to lust after her. She wanted to feel desirable and sexy and confident that her own transformation—from pudgy tomboy to curvaceous woman—had been successful.