Tags:
Romance,
Family,
Paranormal,
Contemporary Romance,
sexy romance,
San Francisco,
Love Story,
Friendship,
alpha male,
Heroes,
sweet romance,
psychic,
bad boy,
falling in love,
beach read,
second chance,
sexy mechanic,
award-winning romance,
widower,
sexy sculptor,
best selling romance
though he knew he should run in the opposite direction.
She leaned in. "This is where you tell me your name," she whispered.
"Remy Savage," he said reluctantly.
"No way!" She laughed, the sound pure joy. "What an awesome name. You could be a hero in a romance novel, or a bartender."
"A bartender?" That settled it: she was loony.
"Because of your arms. You look like you can shake a mean lemon drop." She reached out and squeezed his biceps. Then she gazed up at him, all the laughter gone from her eyes. "You'll need strength to deal with her. She's been garaged too long. She needs someone who'll take her on the road, who's strong enough to keep her from careening off the edge. Someone man enough to make her purr."
He glanced at the garage. "Are you talking about Georgina?"
"Who else would I be talking about? Don't worry, I've got my money on you." Esme smiled and patted his chest. "Carry an extra helmet from now on."
"Is this like the roses?" he asked, skeptical. "Because those were a fail."
"You need to play the long game, Remy." She smiled happily. "Don't forget the helmet. You'll miss opportunities if you don't have an extra one."
"What opportunities?"
"Seriously?" She rolled her eyes and, shaking her head, walked down the street like she was headed to see the wizard.
Remy watched her until he couldn't see her any longer, mostly because he wasn't sure if she was the sort of person who'd suddenly show up and stick a knife between his shoulder blades.
He turned to face the garage again, a little stunned to see Georgina standing in the threshold. She wore pale blue coveralls and a white wifebeater underneath. A baseball hat covered her head, but strands of red hair escaped from the back and sides. Her hair glinted like fire in the sunlight, and he wondered if he'd get burned if he touched it.
She looked him up and down, and then she scowled. "What are you doing here?" she yelled across the street.
He strode to her. He had to. Truthfully, he couldn't help himself. "I've come to get to know you."
She scowled again, crossing her arms. "Why the hell would you want to do that?"
Because he wanted her as his tango partner. "Because I need more details about this mural you want."
Her scowl turned into an endearing pout, although he knew if he told her that, she'd punch him.
She stuck her hands in her pockets. "You said you don't paint."
"Maybe I know the right person for the job." He felt a ping of guilt, because he had no intention of painting anything.
She looked at him with distrust. Then she huffed and motioned him inside. "Fine."
He followed her inside the garage. Instead of traditional tango music, Gotan Project was playing today. Some tango dancers eschewed modern music, only wanting the classics like Biagi and Canaro. Remy loved to dance. He tangoed to anything, even Justin Timberlake, given the chance.
He turned and took in the space. It could have been an auto repair place anywhere in the country: old car posters, grungy and torn; sparse, uncomfortable seating, and a dirty coffee pot sitting in a corner. It didn't really seem like Georgina, not that he knew her beyond what Siobhan had told him.
On the other side of the shop, a man in jeans and a T-shirt was bent over the hood of a car. The guy stood up, giving him a look that said Remy was treading in enemy waters.
Protective of Georgina. Was that her boyfriend? Remy met his look measure for measure so the guy, whoever he was, understood this was serious. Then he turned away from the guy's disapproving glare and faced Georgina. "How long have you owned this place?"
"Over a year, since my grandfather passed away." She folded her arms. "Why are you wasting your time with me when there are plenty of women who'd tango with you?"
He had no idea. "Siobhan thinks you're the best partner for me."
She snorted. "Siobhan smokes crack."
Finally understanding, he nodded. "You don't get along with her."
"I love her. I especially love her when she's three
Learning to Kill: Stories