The Boy Toy. Eugenia Riley

      There he was again, talking about lubrication, sexual innuendo ripe in his tone. Allison didn’t rattle easily, but this cowboy mechanic was unnerving the hell out of her. Enticed much more than she cared to admit, she muttered, “Fine. Scope and snake oil away.” She stood, tugging her jacket and skirt into place. “How long will this take?”

      He was also on his feet. “With luck, we’ll get it done by closing time.”

      “Uh, the man I spoke to on the phone said I might get a loaner.”

      “Sorry, ma’am, but we’re all out this late in the day. However, our courtesy van will take you back to work.”

      “Great, I’m without wheels. And I have some important appointments this afternoon.”

      “So you’ve told me.”

      She shot him a look of thinly veiled hostility. “Don’t I get a claim ticket or something?”

      He shook his head. “Don’t use ’em anymore. Basically, these days, if you’re not in our computer, you don’t exist.”

      “That’s tremendous reassurance.”

      He handed her a business card. “If you have any questions, just call this number. And if it’s any consolation, I’ll personally do your repairs.”

      Allison glanced at the card, at the name Dave Blodgett followed by Service Advisor, Westview Motors. Hmm… Why did she suddenly feel like a kid who’d been handed a new toy?

      Deliberately sounding blasé, she replied, “Don’t bother. I’m sure they have you writing up service orders because you flunked Mechanics 101.”

      Totally unflappable, he took her arm and escorted her out of the cubicle. “How did you guess? But you know, ma’am, sometimes even we morons can come up with a few surprises.”

      Heat streaked through her at his barbed words, his sexy touch. She found herself treacherously longing to continue their verbal jousting. Stepping off the curb with him, she almost lost her balance.

      But by now, that particular reaction didn’t surprise her at all….

      3

      “ERIN, YOU’LL NEVER GUESS what strutted up to me at the car dealership this afternoon,” Allison confided on the phone.

      “You’re kidding me!” came her friend’s excited voice.

      “Nope!”

      “So soon?”

      “Yep!”

      “You mean you found a stray stud puppy?”

      “Sure did.”

      “Did you get him on the leash, girl?”

      She laughed. “I’m not so sure about that yet.”

      “Allie! Come on, spill the beans.”

      Allison launched into the account of her encounter with the mechanic. It was now 4:00 p.m., and she welcomed this moment to put her feet up at her office. Much of her afternoon had been spent placating the clients she’d stood up due to her automotive difficulties. Not that it mattered that much. The mostly male doctors and hospital administrators to whom she peddled pharmaceuticals tended to worship the ground she walked on. Even this afternoon, when she’d tried to placate one client with an offer of free dinner theater tickets for him and his wife, he’d boldly suggested she be his date, instead. Allie had politely declined—she didn’t mind an occasional bit of harmless flirting to push her products, but beyond that she drew the line.

      “You’re saying a young Paul Newman?” Erin was gasping in ecstasy.

      “Yeah, straight out of Hud, that old movie my aunt used to watch. Only this babe has blond hair and light blue eyes.”

      “Sounds heavenly. Did he try to pick you up?”

      “Do bulls have balls? And talk about a trite come-on. Do you know what his first words to me were?”

      “What lines are boy toys using these days?”

      “‘Howdy, sweetheart,’” Allison drawled in a mock male voice. “‘You know, I love how they grow ’em in Texas.’”

      Erin shrieked with laughter. “Well, it’s the truth, ain’t it, partner? Even if you are from Big D, which claims to be a universe unto itself.”

      Allie was silent, mind humming.

      “Hey, Allie, you’re not going to turn into a snob here, are you?”

      Allison gave a sigh. “Erin, you know I’m turned off by the drugstore cowboy routine. It’s so phony.”

      “Yeah, but there are still a few genuine characters left out there.”

      “Well, maybe. But this guy is a stranger. He could even have a criminal background for all I know.”

      “At Westview Motors?” Erin asked, laughing. “They’re way too high end not to do thorough background checks on their employees—especially a service writer who might take customers out on test drives.”

      “You’re probably right,” Allison conceded. Hmm… How she’d love to take him for a test drive!

      “I’m just afraid you’re going to decide you’re out of this guy’s league, and miss out on what he’s offering.”

      “Which is?”

      “Come on, girl, were you asleep at lunch? Great, uninhibited, uncomplicated sex, that’s what.”

      Allie smiled. “Lord knows I could use something easy right now.”

      “Yeah. And this pup sounds plenty easy to me.”

      Smirking, Allison consulted her watch. “Well, I am going to have to call the little stud muffin soon anyway, see if he’s finished up with my bomb. He promised to do the work personally.”

      “Now I know you’ve smitten him. Look, things are dead here at the shop and I think the boss will let me leave early. Want me to run you by the dealership before I head out for rehearsal?”

      Erin was very active in an avant-garde theater group based in her home camp of Montrose. “Geez, Erin, I’ve never known you to risk being a millisecond late for rehearsal. Just dying to take a peek at him, aren’t you?”

      “Yes, ma’am, guilty as charged.”

      “Well, you needn’t put yourself to any trouble. I’m sure they’ll send the courtesy van by for me. Some nice old gent drove me back to the office. Even gave me a fatherly lecture on the perils of wearing short skirts in this wanton society. Think he’s a retired clergyman or something.”

      “What a hoot.”

      “Yeah, I’ll take him in an instant over Mr. Octopus Eyes.”

      “Octopus Eyes?” laughed Erin. “You mean the stray doggie?”

      “Yeah. He may not dare to touch me—”

      “Yet.”

      “Right, yet.” Allison breathed a sigh of mingled frustration and longing. “But I swear those eyes of his shoot out tentacles of fire.”

      Erin groaned. “Oooh! Get out of there, woman, before I come murder you and steal your claim ticket.”

      “Well, you’re out of luck there,” Allison quipped back. “Haven’t you heard? Claim checks are now as uncool as Milli Vanilli and the grunge look. If you’re not in the computer, you’re history.”

      “Whatever you say,” Erin laughed. “Go grab your stud, woman.”

      Allison was still smiling as she hung up the phone. The truth was, she’d been fantasizing about her mechanic all afternoon—going hot repeatedly at the memory of those pale