Hard and Fast (Fast Track #2)(21)
Author: Erin McCarthy

A few guys waved and greeted Ty from their industrious labors over Elec’s car. One even asked, “Who’s your girl there, McCordle?”

“This is Emma Jean,” Ty told them. “She’s a research student at the university.”

Despite the fact that he refused to use her real name, Imogen was pleased by his description. He could have easily dubbed her the lunatic who wanted to have sex with him, but only after she conducted research on a thesis that was rapidly turning into the educational equivalent of quicksand.

“Whatcha researchin’?” a young guy in his early twenties asked curiously.

“I’m getting my doctorate in sociology.” Unlike a doctorate of dick tease, as someone had rudely phrased it. “I’m studying the dating and mating techniques of stock car drivers.”

The young gawky guy’s eyebrows shot up and he looked overwhelmed by the very thought. Another man, older and rounder, glanced up from the tire he was fussing over and snorted. “That makes it sounds like one of them animal shows on Discovery Channel. I’m guessing that’s about the right of it, though. Most men are animals.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ty said.

There was another snort followed by a grin. “Hell, I think I am speaking more for you than for me. I’m a happily married man. No dating and mating for me these days. But you’re doing enough for you and me both.”

“Hardly,” Ty said loudly, clearly annoyed with the conversation. “I’m showing her around so you all need to behave while she’s here.”

Ty took her hand, which startled her, and led her away from the crew. “It was nice to meet you,” she said over her shoulder.

They all grinned and waved.

“Sorry,” Ty said.

“Why? They didn’t say anything rude to me.” And now she was way too distracted by the fact that he was still holding her hand to think about anything else. He had a strong grip, yet he was tender with her, his hand in hers just warm and stable and . . . right.

Oy. That was a scary thought.

Could two people actually be any different than she and Ty?

There was no way she should let her thoughts go there. Ever.

But his hand did feel good.

“Alright,” Ty said, clearly unaware of the ridiculous direction her thoughts were going in. “Stock Car 101. We’re putting you in the car and I’m going to tell you what everything is.”

Imogen eyed the very vibrant green car in front of her dubiously. It didn’t look dangerous. It wasn’t on. So regardless of what she saw the vehicle doing on Sundays, it wasn’t going to spontaneously start itself parked in the garage. She didn’t think.

“Okay,” she said nervously and reached for the door when he let go of her hand. “Where’s the door handle?”

“There’s no door handle. The door doesn’t open. You have to climb in the window.”

Was he serious? Imogen looked at him and frowned. Ty was giving her a very calm and reassuring look.

“No big deal,” he told her. “Just one leg over, then the other, and you slide on into the seat. Go on, it will give you a real feel of what it’s like to be in the driver’s seat.”

That did intrigue her, she had to admit.

“So this is like a Dukes of Hazzard thing? I just climb in?”

“Exactly. Go for it, Emma Jean.”

Although an Emma Jean undoubtedly could just hop right into a race car, an Imogen was destined to have issues.

Imogen lifted one leg up, ruing the fact that she had thrown on tight skinny jeans with flats at the last minute in an effort to look somewhat cute when meeting Ty. It was kind of hard to haul her leg past her knee when the denim was restricting her movement. She actually lost her balance and wobbled, grabbing on to the car frame above the open window.

“Do you need a lift?” he asked.

“No, no.” Yes. Imogen tried again, swinging her leg as high as she could and managing to hook it over the opening. But she couldn’t seem to shift her weight to the left leg and was standing there, one leg up, one down, hands clinging to the car.

“I can help you.”

“No, I’m fine.” There had to be a more logical way to do this. She wasn’t strong enough to haul herself up, and in the meantime she was potentially doing internal damage to her reproductive organs perched on the doorframe the way she was.

Retreating back out of the car and down onto the concrete floor, Imogen peeled off her black pin-striped blazer and set it on the hood of the car. Pushing up the sleeves of her white button-up shirt, Imogen grabbed on to the window and jumped, her belly landing on the frame. Her head was in, but nothing else, so she wiggled and tried to pull herself up and forward.

Suddenly Ty’s hands were on her waist and she stopped moving.

His voice rippled over her. “And you say I’m stubborn? You go in like this, you’re going to land on your head and splatter those brilliant brains all over my seat.”

“I have it under control,” she said, breathless both from the activity and from his touch.

“Oh, really?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “But just so you understand, this position you’re in is not helping me stick to your no-flirting rule.”

Imogen felt her cheeks grow hot. She could only imagine what her bum looked like from his perspective. Not as good as Nikki’s, she could guarantee that, given she didn’t have a taste for plain lettuce and couldn’t handle more than fifteen minutes on the treadmill. Even if her butt could be toned to the point of Nikki’s, Imogen wouldn’t know what to do with it because she had been born without the sex kitten gene.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know you weren’t. That’s part of what makes it so damn hot. You’re not being calculating, just naturally sexy.”

Imogen wished she could see his face instead of staring at the black interior of the car. He couldn’t possibly be serious. “There is nothing sexy about me, Ty. It’s not in my DNA to intentionally entice men.”

“Intentional or not, it’s there, honey. You are smoking-hot sexy.”

Flopped over the doorframe like a human teeter-totter, Imogen wondered if Ty had forgotten to wear his helmet a time or two. She was not sexy. If she could have rested her hand under her chin in that position, she would have. Instead she just hung there and felt suspended both literally and figuratively.

She squawked when Ty lifted her up and back out of the car, her shirt riding up and exposing her belly. He turned her around and she stared up at him, yanking her shirt back into place.