Ignited By Love (PAPERBACK)

Chapter One
Rocky
I tried to release my death grip on the weapon. I really did. Those tiny black words on the innocent, thin, fibrous, good-for-the-environment trees cut deep. A paper cut wasn’t supposed to hurt so much, but this one killed me.
Because it was important.
Life and dreams important.
So much so my heart beat a techno rhythm inside my chest, and nausea danced in my stomach as visions of my shop being yanked out from under my feet due to the fucking series of complaints swarmed me.
How could those innocuous symbols hold such much power over someone’s livelihood?
It was fucking terrifying.
First, the zoning complaint and now these bullshit ones. A noise ordinance and nuisance complaint and traffic and parking issues which could lead to the Environmental Protection Agency’s involvement. Just what I fucking needed on top of the city coming down on me, the EPA’s unwanted attention.
So with each step Feldspar’s Vice Mayor, Kevin Reynolds, took toward my office door—even if it was a beautiful custom glass door etched with swirly sapphire letters spelling Sterling Custom Auto—my fist clenched tighter and tighter around the documents.
And the noose around my neck shrank the closer he got.
Because if Kevin’s highly inferred matrimonial suggestion for saving my shop was real, then death was imminent.
His.
Literally.
Mine… It felt like a million lacerations slashed through me. My father’s dream, my dream slowly leaking from each cut.
It wasn’t that Kevin wasn’t a good-looking man. He absolutely was with hair the color of wheat but as soft as cotton—unfortunately, I knew what it felt like—and his sparkling blue eyes that twinkled when he set them on you. That alone made a woman take notice. His attire? Yeah, he rocked the retro Ward Cleaver suit, tailored in a trendy way. And his mannerisms? Complete gentlemen.
It was an appealing package if you wanted to be June Cleaver waiting on him hand and foot with no other ambitions.
Ambitions like I was currently standing in.
My late father’s legacy. My dream come to life. Everything I worked to achieve since he died, and it was all at risk.
A shot of fear blasted through me, and my hand spasmed around the offending noose of papers, releasing them. They fluttered onto my desk, and I choked back the hysteria lodged in my throat that even my beloved chocolate that it landed on couldn’t remove. No effing way was I going to let Kevin take away my livelihood, my dreams, or my life with some trumped-up series of bullshit complaints.
He stepped into my office, and his sky-blue eyes scanned my face. “You look a little tired, Raquel.”
In more ways than one. Not that I’d tell Kevin. Any sign of weakness, no matter how little, and he’d pounce. I glanced down at the papers–case in point–and back at him.
I really needed chocolate.
“What can I help you with?”
“I came by to see if you had time to talk. I’m sure we can resolve the zoning grievance before tomorrow’s city council meeting. I was hoping we could sit down and talk, just the two of us, and figure all this out. Come to an agreement that suits everyone. It seems like all this is getting out of hand.”
His serene smile, topped by his absurd statement, sent my blood racing through me like a geyser, where the only thing I could hear was the roar in my ears.
Come to an agreement? Was he genuinely insinuating what I thought he was? Me at his side, and all this would disappear? He wouldn’t. Would he? It was always so thinly veiled that I couldn’t be sure. Angry chills traveled over me at the audacity he had to use his position of authority to persuade me to his way of thinking or my livelihood, my life would suffer.
The world around me disappeared, and the only thing I was aware of was Kevin’s isn’t-everything-great smile.
No, it fucking wasn’t.
But I was frozen in fear, staring at that ludicrous expression. I was scared I wasn’t woman enough to run the shop my dad started. I was scared I wasn’t woman enough to oversee a typical male-run business. I was just plain scared that I wasn’t woman enough.
“Raquel?”
Kevin’s grating voice pulled me out of the draining pool of dread, forced calm into my cells, and gave me the restraint to not kick Kevin’s butt right out of my office.
“This,” I pointed to the various violations on my desk, “is very much the definition of out of hand. This,” another jab at the offensive papers, “very much indicates a boatload of seriousness. And not something that will simply disappear,” one more angry jab that jolted the used chocolate wrappers into the air, “if we come to an agreement.”
He remained focused on the sheets of paper on my desk as confusion replaced his earlier carefree attitude.
Had I read him wrong? Was my fear making me believe the worst in him?
Then, I saw him.
Tall. Taller than Kevin, who was no slouch. He easily topped Kevin by at least three inches, maybe four. His shoulders were massive, inches from fitting between the door frame, and stubble hid his jaw. Stubble I just knew would leave evidence of his touch. Marks I desperately wanted to mar my skin. My body shivered uncontrollably at the prospect.
Now, he was a man who could make a woman forget chocolate.
“Raquel?”
I struggled to pull my gaze from the newcomer’s bourbon-colored eyes and woodenly shifted my attention to Kevin. The wrinkles between his eyes told me he wasn’t again pleased with me.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have kept you out so late at the mayor’s birthday party.” The confusion creases remained firmly in place on his face.
What?
“I believe you should close the shop and do something more suitable for your sensibilities.”
My sensibilities? As in home and hearth sensibilities? Or children-rearing sensibilities? The words coming out of his mouth were like cold water poured over me—jarring.
“Mr. Reynolds, can I do something for you automotive-wise?” It was more than a job, more than a business to me, a fact Kevin did not comprehend.
He scanned my face. “I see you need a little more time. I’ll sincerely await your presence tomorrow for our date.”
“No need. Mr. Quincy and I will see you at City Hall for the council meeting where all the complaints against Sterling Custom Auto will be addressed.”
Not.
A.
Date.
“Raquel, there is no reason to include your attorney in these proceedings. I could quite easily dismiss all this zoning business if you’d take the time to meet with me.”
He was implying if I dated him, then he’d veto the crap out of the violations.
My hands curled into fists with the desire to punch Kevin. A feat I barely struggled not to follow through with. No reason to include Mr. Quincy? He was talking about my deceased father’s legacy, not some dilapidated shack that caused an eyesore in Feldspar’s historic downtown. As for meeting with him? I’d rather jam a spark plug in my eye while attached to a live battery than give up my father’s shop, much less marry Kevin and become his Stepford Wife.
My silent count of ten didn’t do anything to lessen the itch to throttle Kevin. Damn the potential customer.
It took me to the count of twenty and a vow I’d sic Mr. Quincy on Kevin and his highly illegal proposal.
“Mr. Vice Mayor, the answer is still no. It will remain no,” I leaned toward Kevin, “forever.” Okay, maybe I hadn’t fully throttled my desire. My chest expanded as I sucked in a massive breath in an attempt to regain my composure. “If there is nothing else, I have a customer waiting.” I glanced at hunkalicious, who hadn’t moved from his spot by the door, scowl and all.
Kevin’s nod was slow and reluctant. “I genuinely wish you’d reconsider going home to rest. It is evident our late weekend did not sit well with you. On that note, I will bid you a good afternoon, hoping to ease some of your stress.” He faced the newcomer and said, “Good day, sir.”
The sullen but handsome stranger jerked his chin up in acknowledgment.
The jangling of the bell above the door confirmed Kevin’s departure as I focused on the handsome man before me. His scowl only intensified his lusciousness. It made me want to reach out and pet him until he softened under my touch. However, a quick inspection of the rest of him made me realize flaccid wasn’t what I wanted. His feet were encased in well-worn hiking boots planted shoulder-width apart. Moving up, I saw his jeans were as worn in as his boots, with the denim around his knees faded from use and…
I jerked my eyes up, and my cheeks blazed. Here I was, checking out a potential new client right in front of him—no need to worry about Kevin making me seem unprofessional. I was doing a bang-up job all by myself.
A hint of a smile graced his lickable lips.
Whoa.
A rush zipped through my body. A barely there twitch of his lips, and I was ready to jump him.
“Welcome to Sterling Custom Auto. How may I help you?” There, that sounded professional—nothing like the desire coursing through my body.
“Mornin’. I have an appointment with Rocky to discuss the restoration of my car.”
His voice resonated through my body like the bass in a timeless jazz tune and warmed me like a smooth shot of bourbon.
Oh boy, I truly needed to stop my mind from associating sex with this man and concentrate on professionalism.
I swallowed to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. “Your name and vehicle?”
“Max Hudson. I have the convertible ’67 Cadillac DeVille.”
Not potential. An actual customer.
I walked around my desk and extended my hand. “It’s great to meet you, Mr. Hudson. I’ve spoken with your brother, Paul, regarding your grandfather’s car. She’s a beauty.”
A warm, calloused hand engulfed mine, and sparks shot directly to all my womanly parts.
Great.
Now my body was wholly participating in my waking sex dream.
Pulling my hand away, I tried subtly wiping it on my jeans, hoping to smother the embers that danced through my body. Because with that one simple touch, I knew I’d never want chocolate again if I had the pleasure of experiencing the completely uncensored Max package.
“It was, is. I’m hoping Rocky can make it so again.”
A chill slowly swept through me at his words. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He wasn’t the first man who glazed over me in search of a man—looking for Rocky.
“Well, I have no doubt we’ll be able to get your baby back in pristine order. Shall we go check her out?” I fell back on years of training, plastered on a professional smile, and headed toward the side garage door with a pitstop at my desk for some much-needed confectionery delight.
Screw the optics to the customer. After my morning, I could only handle so much without my edible vice.
I opened the door, waiting for Max as he stood there and contemplated whether he should follow. This introspection wasn’t unusual. It was one of the normal responses I received from my male customers. Not quite sure if they should follow the little lady out, and if they did, thinking I was taking them to meet Rocky or insisting they speak with Rocky before they ventured any further.
My skin bubbled with irritation, and my heart squeezed as another man dismissed me. Being female and young, twenty-six years young, this feeling happened too frequently. I sucked in another deep breath and exhaled my disappointment as I waited for Max to decide.
Max chose option number one as he made his way to me. Not waiting for him to reach me, I entered the cubby area that separated the office from the actual workspace. The entire length of the cubby area was windowed so you could watch the progress of any vehicle. Each bay was staggered so that you could see each bay with tool stations placed in intervals. Yes, chocolate was a tool, too. So, no matter what station you were at, you had access to whatever tool you might need.
It also allowed us to watch Clay as he stepped back from his build, pointed at Bruno, and busted into a badass air guitar performance to the rock music blaring through the shop. This interaction was one of the many reasons I loved the cubby area—to watch the guys enjoying themselves.
Dad set up this area for different reasons. First, it allowed customers to view their babies' progress before entering the work zone. Second, it was a place where he could discuss the projects with everyone and anyone. Last but not least, it also served as a place where his employees could grab a break from whatever pesky automotive issue bothered them at the time.
It wasn’t their official break room. No, that was in the back, away from all the hustle in the shop. Dad was a firm believer in separating business from personal. So, when his employees were off the clock, they were off the clock—even if it was for ten minutes.
Mom, Ash, and I agreed with Dad. So after he passed on, Mom and Ash took control of the shop while I finished my business degree, and they kept all of Dad’s rules and systems in place. It wasn’t broken, so why change it?
“That’s some shop.”
“Yeah, she’s a beauty all right.” I tilted my head toward the bay in question.
His bourbon eyes gazed down at me. Who knew eye color would want you to take a sip of…
“After you.” Max opened the door and waited for me to walk through.
I broke the contact and felt my cheeks pinken again. Good Lord, Rocky, get a hold of yourself.
I hightailed it to the DeVille, nodding at the guys as I passed them. I fell in love with the Caddy when she first came in–rust and all. Her lines, edges, and curves–gorgeous.
“She’s looking better already,” Max commented as he walked around her.
I ran a hand along the hood. “Yeah. Once we stripped her of everything, we gave her an overdue bath to see what we were working with. She wasn’t as bad as we initially thought. The rust was pretty stubborn and refused to leave. It took a little work, but once we got it all off, we got all the dents and scratches out pretty quickly. From there, sanding her was easy.” It’s like she was working with us to get back in shape as fast as possible.
“Why didn’t Rocky start the priming then?” he asked.
“We don’t start that process until the remainder of the work is almost complete. There is too much activity inside and out of the DeVille before that type of preparation can occur.” I bent down to the partially disassembled engine–since most of it was missing–picked up the shiny carburetor and stood back up. I held it toward Max and said, “For example, this baby here was filthy. Grease and dirt caked on it with a family of spiders nestled inside. The latter made me drop it atop the still-assembled engine.” I shivered at the memory of the little guys running around the inside of the hood. “So, we err on the side of caution.”
I had his full attention. The intensity in his eyes smoldered me as I watched him work out what I had just said. I knew from experience he was trying to figure out if I genuinely worked on cars or not.
Max eyed me across the hood. “How did Rocky do all this work by himself in such a short time?”
“Well, this gal helped. She didn’t fight me–too much.” I wiped some dust off the hood with the rag from the tool bench.
“You?” The incredulousness in his one word grated on my nerves.
“Yes, me.” I gave him the respect he didn’t give me, bent down, and placed the part back, which hopefully gave him the time to regroup from his disbelief. I eyed the box of chocolate on the rack and debated whether or not I should grab a piece as another option to delay some time.
Or as a way to keep my mouth shut instead of giving Max an earful on his sexist ways.
“I was told that Rocky would be working on my car.” He didn’t give up.
“And I am. However, I won’t be the only one handling your baby. We work as a team and float between all our builds.” Even though I was used to this type of response, having it come from Max bothered me more than usual. Something I’d have to ponder later. “If you come around to this side, I can go over what I’ve found regarding the engine spread out here, and then we can come up with some scheduled times for you and your family to stop by and check on her.”
Max walked around the DeVille and stopped by the tarp across from me. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were Rocky. I was…” He looked down at the engine parts before he looked back up and said, “I can’t spin or excuse what I thought.”
“Thanks.” I was at a loss for words. His apology was a first for me. Every other man made excuses. None of them ever outright admitted they were being a misogynistic ass for thinking it and coming from Max–my whole body somersaulted in joy.
We spent a good thirty minutes reviewing the work I had completed and scheduled regular check-ins. The entire time, I struggled to focus on Max’s questions and my answers. I’d catch myself watching his mouth move, thinking I’d love to taste his lips, or staring at his eyes, wondering if they darkened when he was sexually excited. And his fingers? Every time he pointed at something, I’d imagine what their thickness would feel like inside me.
Max truly tested my business etiquette, and I questioned whether I’d be able to handle all the checkups with him in attendance.
So, when he finally left, I shoved a chunk of chocolate in my mouth and thought maybe I would include a vibrator in my chocolate fest tonight.