It wasn’t every day that a woman was offered the position of head mechanic for a NHRA Pro Stock motorcycle team and Michelle could now say that she’d not only been offered the position, but that the offer had come with an endorsement from a former president of the NHRA. Not bad for the little girl most thought would never find her way back to the racing tracks after her father’s untimely death years earlier.
Michelle had been her father’s protégée, Brent Mitchell Coleman teaching her everything about the mechanical operations of an engine. Michelle had doted on the man, following him around like a second shadow from the moment she could walk and talk. Her mother had disappeared from their lives before Michelle’s fifth birthday and her father had become the center of her world.
As a little girl, a garage had been Michelle’s playground, pneumatic air tools the toys she played with. By the time she was sixteen years old Michelle could overhaul an automobile engine like a seasoned professional, her skills outranking those of many grown men.
Over the years her father had raced anything on wheels but motorcycles had been his first love. Michelle remembered well the day her father had received his own formal invitational letter to drive a bike for one of the most prestigious Pro Stock motorcycle teams in competition. The two had celebrated with a large pepperoni pizza and ice cold bottles of Corona beer.
Both Michelle and Simon had been a part of the pit crew, maintaining her father’s bike and keeping him on track. The accident had been a fluke of sorts, coming just before one of the largest national races. The win would have ranked her father as the number one seeded driver in the nation and Michelle had been sure he would win. Instead, the fatal crash had ended all of their dreams and left Michelle completely devastated. She was still haunted by the memory of the brake line that was found mysteriously severed. The formal investigation had ruled it an accident, but Michelle had always been convinced that accidents like that didn’t just happen without a little outside help. She still blamed herself for not double-checking her father’s bike one last time.
Michelle heaved a deep sigh, folding the formal document back into the legal-size envelope it had been delivered in. Tossing it back on the counter, she returned to the inventory she’d been taking, her focus on the box of gaskets and pipes she’d been counting.
Simon was still eyeing her from across the room, waiting hopefully for a reaction that he knew Michelle wasn’t going to show. Never one to be outwardly demonstrative, they’d all grown used to Michelle’s passive demeanor, the expressionless eyes that never gave a hint to her feelings. Simon knew that Michelle wouldn’t let him know if she were interested in the job or not until she was on the payroll. But he was excited for her and didn’t mind letting her know. The young woman’s career was definitely on target as far as he was concerned. Now, if they could only do something about her personal life.
Booting up the computer on his desk, Mark had more on his mind than he cared to have. There was a pile of client portfolios on his desk screaming for his attention. Half his day had already been shot to hell haggling with his younger brother, and thoughts of that woman kept creeping into his mind. That woman. Mark’s body quivered at the thought of Michelle, the cool chill racing the length of his spine having become too familiar since the two had met.
Mark was finding it difficult to rationalize what was happening to him. Never before had a woman consumed his waking moments the way Michelle Coleman kept invading his mind. Most especially a woman he’d not even had an opportunity to take to dinner yet. For crying out loud, he thought to himself, shifting in his seat. The two had only met for five short minutes, the woman barely giving him a second look. He couldn’t begin to believe how love struck he was suddenly acting.
The man shook his head vigorously to dislodge the images of Michelle from his mind. Fighting to refocus, he scanned his to-do list for the umpteenth time. At the rate things were going, he thought, the rest of his day couldn’t get any worse because things were already bad enough.
He turned his attention back to the folders before him, flipping through them casually before finally tossing his hands in the air in frustration. He was glad John was not around to give him hell for slacking off on the job. John was a true tyrant when it came to business. Typically, he was, too, but on this particular day, Mark was lacking that kind of fortitude.
If the truth were to be told, when he wasn’t thinking about Michelle, he was anxious to get down to the new athletic facility that housed Stallion Racing. The ten-bay garage had quickly become his favorite place, his home away from home as he maneuvered his way around the mechanics of the new Kawasaki motorcycles that they had recently acquired. He was anxious to get out to the track to give one a test spin around the blacktop. He was missing the squeal of brakes and the smell of burning rubber and just the thought was making him more antsy with each passing moment. He was past ready to get out of the office and the Armani suit that he swore was cutting off his circulation. But those darn folders and the documents inside would not allow him to leave.
An hour or so later his secretary buzzed for his attention. “Mr. Stallion?”
“Yes, Elena,” Mark replied, depressing the response button on the intercom.
“Vanessa Long is on line two, sir. She’s returning your call.”
“Thank you,” Mark said as Elena disconnected the speaker.
He depressed the button flashing up at him. “Hey, girl! What’s up?” Mark chimed cheerily.
“Not much, my friend. How are things with you?” Vanessa responded.
“Woman, it’s been one of those days,” he answered, chuckling under his breath. “So, how’s that new business venture starting out?” Mark asked, alluding to the new sales opportunities Vanessa had spoken about in Myrtle Beach. “You wheeling and dealing with the big boys yet?”
“Oh, yeah!” Vanessa hummed cheerily. “I’m wheeling all right. You’d be surprised what these fools will buy if they think they can get a little something-something on the side.”
Mark laughed with her. “Did you tell them your something-something is very selective?”
“Oh, I made sure they knew how selective it is, honey. Makes them want me even more, but there is absolutely no testosterone allowed on these premises.”
“Okay, there now,” Mark said, grimacing slightly. “Let’s change the subject. So what can I do for you today?”
“You called me, remember? I just got your message and was returning your call,” Vanessa said. “I think the bigger question is what can I do for you?”
Mark nodded, suddenly remembering why it was he’d called his friend in the first place. “I need an escort Friday night. Are you available?”
“Oh,” Vanessa chimed. “Black tie, I hope? I need a reason to get all dolled up.”
“Hardly, more like business chic,” Mark said, his tone denoting little interest. “It’s for some meet and greet thing my sister-in-law is hosting for her business. You remember Marah’s sister Eden, right? You met her at John and Marah’s wedding,” Mark continued, not bothering to wait for Vanessa to respond. “Well, she and Marah own that new dating service downtown. I promised I’d stop by, but I figured I might need a quick exit. Just in case. You know?”
Vanessa chuckled. “Not interested in greeting and meeting some new women? Sounds like it would be a really good time to me.”
Mark shook his head from side to side, oblivious to the fact that his friend couldn’t see him. He wasn’t interested in meeting any new women. He was only interested in meeting one woman. He was anxious for an opportunity to be in the room with his new favorite female mechanic again. But he couldn’t tell Vanessa that and so he denied having any interest at all. “You would think so. Personally, I’m not in the mood to be stuck