Introduction To Romance (10 Books). Кэрол Мортимер

her checking out Brody’s butt.

      And Brody? He looked right through her as if she were made of cellophane. It wasn’t as though she expected everyone in the world to adore her. But the guy could drool a little when he saw her in shorts, couldn’t he? Or at least stare when he showed up to give Joe a ride and found Genna in a bikini, strategically washing her car.

      But did he?

      Noooo.

      The guy acted as though she wasn’t even there.

      Genna wasn’t the contrary sort. She’d never had to be. But no matter who told her or how many times, she couldn’t get Brody Lane out of her head.

      So tonight, thanks to Dina’s dare, she was going to do something about it.

      “Genna,” Macy pleaded, as if she were peeking into her best friend’s thoughts. “Don’t do this.”

      “And be known as the girl who doesn’t meet her dares?” She’d rather be known as an ax-murdering floozy who wore designer knockoffs and ugly shoes.

      “Maybe Macy’s right,” Sylvie said quietly, always ready to jump in as the voice of reason. “This isn’t like daring you to stand up in Mrs. Bellevue’s class and sing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ while shaking your tail feathers. If your dad finds out, he’ll kill you.”

      “He’ll kill us,” Macy intoned wisely, knowing full well that Sheriff Reilly was just as likely to punish any possible accomplices as he was the actual perpetrator.

      “My dad’s not going to find out,” Genna said dismissively, the negligent wave of her hand stirring a tiny breeze in the sultry night air. Her father was too busy keeping the peace and freaking out over Joe’s latest escapade to pay any attention to what his little angel did.

      “I hear he’s wild. He likes kinky stuff.”

      She assumed Dina was talking about Brody now and not her dad.

      “What kind of kinky stuff?” Twisting her carefully streaked blond hair around one finger, Sylvie sounded somewhere between fascinated and terrified.

      Genna wasn’t between anything. She was smack-dab solid in determination. And feeling hot, of course.

      “I dunno. But I’ll bet Genna can tell us tomorrow.” When Dina’s loud giggle earned her three glares, she slapped both hands over her mouth. But she didn’t stop laughing.

      It was just nerves over being on the rougher side of town combined with a little too much hard lemonade. Or maybe she really thought it was funny that Genna was going to put all her virginal skills to use and seduce one of the baddest of the town’s bad boys.

      “I don’t kiss and tell,” Genna decided. That sounded mysterious, didn’t it? And kinda sexy. Besides, she figured any kissing she did deserved to be savored. Which meant kept to herself, where the gossips and tattletales couldn’t whisper it around.

      “You mean you don’t kiss or do anything else,” Dina corrected, rolling her big blue eyes.

      “Dina,” Macy moaned, wringing her hands in a way that proved Genna’s assertion that her friend took far too many drama classes. “Don’t encourage her. She’ll do something crazy.”

      “Oh, c’mon. It’s not like she’s really going to jump the guy,” Dina retorted. As usual, she’d picked the scariest dare she could think of when they were playing. She’d had no idea it was also her friend’s secret dream. “This is Genna. She’s gonna go in there, because it’s a dare and she can’t resist those. She’ll try to flirt, Luscious Lane will do his brick wall impersonation and it’ll all be over.”

      “The dare was to kiss Brody Lane,” Sylvie pointed out quietly, casting a nervous glance toward the golden glow emanating from the garage light twenty feet away. “Genna’s not going in there unless she’s gonna follow through. You know that.”

      Genna stood a little straighter, her chin a smidge higher at that character evaluation. She liked being known as a girl who followed through.

      She looked toward the garage, the silhouette of a man working on a motorcycle. Since Brody’s dad, Brian, was working behind the counter and probably three-quarters to drunk at the bar next door, that meant it could only be his son in there.

      Time to put up or shut up.

      “If I’m not back in ten minutes, head home,” she instructed, fluffing her hair and slicking a coat of Racy Red on her lips, then tucking the tube into the back pocket of her jeans. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

      Before they could launch into warnings, cautions or any more stupid arguments, Genna hurried off. Her sandals made slapping sounds all the way to the garage like some kind of early-warning seduction device. She shot a quick glance back at her nervously huddled friends, then figuring that warning Brody wouldn’t serve her plans, she slipped off her shoes.

      Barefoot, she tiptoed up the last few feet of sidewalk and carefully peeked around the open doorway.

      And there he was. Brody Lane, in all his bare-chested glory. Black hair, as stick-straight as her own, fell across his eyes as he bent over the Harley. Facing away from her, she had the perfect view of his denim-clad butt. And oh, what a butt it was. She wanted to touch it. She wanted to run her hands down the hard planes of his back, glowing gold in the poor garage lighting. Then she wanted to curl her fingers over those biceps. Rock-hard arms were so sexy in a guy, she decided then and there.

      Genna fanned herself. Because, oh, baby, he was sizzling.

      She took a deep breath, hoping it did intriguing things to her form. When a girl wasn’t blessed with a whole lot on top, she learned these little tricks.

      Then she stepped through the doorway.

      She knew it was impossible given the distance, but she swore she heard a chorus of gasps from her friends. Not looking back, she stepped over the threshold, leaning her shoulder against the door frame; she rested one hand on her hip in a seductive pose she’d seen in a magazine.

      And waited.

      Nothing.

      Genna rolled her eyes. Even when he didn’t know she was there, he ignored her. This definitely had to change.

      “Hey, Brody,” she called out, relieved when her voice only shook a little. “How’re you doing?”

      His body went still; his head turned. His eyes, golden-brown like a cat’s, narrowed.

      Slowly, like a dream, he straightened away from the bike, the light glinting off that sleek golden skin. So, so much skin. Her gaze traveled from the broad stretch of his shoulders down his tapered waist to his jeans, slung low and loose on his hips.

      Her mouth went dry. Oh, wow.

      “Genna?” He cast a glance behind her, then back with an arched brow. “Joe isn’t here.”

      She knew that. After the third screaming match with their father that week, her brother had torn off on his motorcycle before dinner, heading for the highway. To see one of his girls, Genna figured. Leaving the way clear for her to pay a visit to his best friend.

      “I’m not here to see Joe.”

      Not the answer he’d been expecting, if his frown was anything to go by.

      “Then what’s up?” he asked, grabbing a rag and sliding the wrench through it before placing the tool in its spot in the big red toolbox. The area around him was as an oasis of tidy organization compared with the chaos of the rest of the garage. His space versus his dad’s, Genna figured.

      At her continued silence, he took a step closer, then stopped. She almost pouted. It was as if he’d heard a signal warning that she was there for something naughty.

      “You have a problem with your BMW?” Frowning now, he gave her a quick once-over. Not in a sexy way, more as though he was worried she was hurt.

      Genna’s