Randy cleared his throat, hoping to break the tension between him and Francesca. The way she was looking at him, he was worried she was about to pounce. It was taking everything in him to not walk over there and kiss her.
Picking up a work towel, he wiped his hands on it and then directed her toward the front office. She walked in front of him and it was his turn to devour her ass. And hot damn, the jeans she wore were tight and molded to her butt perfectly. Her pants hugged her legs all the way down. She wore black boots that came to her knees. He wasn't sure what shirt she wore, because his eyes had yet to make it past her luscious behind.
Once in the office, he stepped around her, getting a whiff of a very tempting smell. He quickly sat and scooted under the desk as far as he could. He was hard and didn't want her to see.
Francesca took a seat in front of him and he now noticed her pink tank top that was cut low enough he got a hint of cleavage. Inhaling again, he wondered what perfume she used. It really was igniting his senses.
"I spent some time looking at your car today. When was the last time you had an oil change?" he asked.
"It's been awhile."
"I can tell. And how long has the car been leaking oil?"
She shrugged. "Not sure. I wasn't concerned since it was just little drops here and there."
"Those little drops here and there add up. You almost had no oil in your car. And I hate to tell you, but you have torn up your engine."
"Well, can't you just pop a new one in and it'll be good as new?" she asked.
"I wish it was that simple. Here, look this over." He slid a sheet of paper across the desk. "The top portion has to be done, the middle is recommended, and the bottom is optional. The price is on there too."
Her eyes widened as she read over the paper. She then glanced up at him. "This can't be right."
"I'm afraid it is. You haven't taken very good care of the car."
"I get it washed and detailed all the time. I take very good care of it."
Randy shook his head. "There's a lot more to a vehicle than just its appearance. You've got to take care of the things people don't see too."
She was quiet for a moment and then finally spoke. "I don't know if I can afford this."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't you have some rich man who can pay for it?" He regretted saying it the moment it left his lips.
Francesca's mouth fell open and he could see the shock on her face.
"I'm so—" he started to apologize.
"I can't believe you would say that, Randall. You of all people," she snapped.
"Me of all people," he repeated. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? If I recall correctly, you dumped me because you wanted a rich man to take care of you. Tell me, how is that working out for you?"
Francesca stood up, placed her hands on her hips, and leaned forward slightly. As much as he hated it, his focus darted in for a peek inside her shirt.
"I'll have you know that I'm not the gold digger you think I am," she argued.
"I bet you refuse to date any man whose income level doesn't meet your standards. Tell me, why haven't you married one of them yet?"
"Why aren't you married? Can't find a girl who will have you as a husband?"
Randy stood and stepped around the desk. "I haven't found anyone else who can start my engines the way you could." He rubbed the back of his fingers on her upper arm. "Haven't you found a rich guy yet who can kiss you breathless?"
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