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An Excerpt From: THE SEASONS OF SEDUCTION II
ANTHOLOGY
Wendy's Summer job
 Copyright CHARLOTTE BOYETT-COMPO, 2007.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing
The man behind the counter looked up from the cash register, looked down at the drawer and then did a double take as she closed the door behind her. A slow grin stretched across his handsome face. “Can I help you?” he asked.
Wendy stared at him. He was absolutely mouthwatering—dark brown hair with a wayward curl dipping over his brow, green eyes, white teeth, dimples and a nicely muscled chest stretching his shirt.
“Ma’am?” he asked, one dark brow elevated.
She had to swallow before she could squeak out the one word, “Work.”
His long-lashed eyes swept down her from head to waist—since the rest of her was blocked by the counter—and he shut the cash register drawer. “Looking for or wanting?” he inquired.
Without realizing she was doing it, Wendy put out her tongue and licked her lips. “Wanting,” she said, her voice husky and inviting. “Boy, am I wanting.”
Folding his arms over his brawny chest, he gave her a look that set her loins to throbbing. “What I meant was, do you want to work for us or do you want us to work for you?”
Thinking of all the things he could do for her, Wendy had to bite her lower lip, tucking it between her teeth, watching his eyes flare with interest. “Me working for you,” she answered, and could feel her heart pounding, her blood rushing through her veins.
“Well, let’s go into the office and talk about it,” he said.
Wendy watched him skirt the counter. In his dark blue mechanic’s pants, his ass was as luscious as the man she’d seen leaving earlier and looked hard enough to bounce a quarter off.
Wendy blinked. “Mechanic?” she heard herself say.
“To the stars,” he quipped as he headed for the front door. When he twisted the lock, she felt a stab of pure lust drive right through her belly. He turned to face her. “The receptionist job pays five hundred a week plus benefits,” he said, sweeping a hand toward a door off to her right.
At the moment, that was a princely sum to Wendy. Having to move back in with her stepmother would be sheer hell but it would be doable until she could save up enough money to get her own place.
The office into which he showed her wasn’t what she expected a mechanic’s office to look like. It was large, clean, neat and smelled pleasantly of perked coffee even if the desk was a jumble of papers, invoices and ledgers. A long couch with two chairs to either side of it sat at the far end of the room along with a coffee table and two end tables. An entertainment center complete with a small bar graced the opposite wall. In between were three four-drawer file cabinets.
“Can you type?” he asked, motioning her to the chair in front of the desk.
“Yes,” she said. “I can…”
“Count to ten while chewing gum?” he queried as he pushed aside a pile of papers on the edge of the desk and perched on it, his arms folded.
Wendy smiled, giving him her best toothy grin. “If push comes to shove,” she answered.
He put out a hand. “Drake Quinlan,” he said. “Co-owner and chief diagnostician.”
She slipped her hand into his and was impressed with the strength and the calluses. His nails didn’t have the grimy, packed-grease look of a mechanic. “Wendy Cole, out of work damsel in distress.”
“Chief diagnostician,” he stressed when he saw her looking at his short-clipped nails. “I can swing a wrench with the best of them but why should I when I have guys in the back who can do it for me?”
Wendy was all too aware he hadn’t let go of her hand. He was caressing her fingers.
“Did you pass my brother Kyle on the way in?” he asked. He had put his free hand atop hers and was running the pads of his fingers along the back of her hand.
“Tall guy in black leather?” she asked, losing herself in the verdant depths of his mesmerizing eyes.
“That would have been him.”
“I saw him.”
“Most women do,” he said with a sigh.
She swallowed. “I’m surprised you two don’t have women lining up for the job.” She risked a glance at his left hand. “Or that your wives aren’t here keeping an eye on you.”
He shrugged carelessly. “No wives to worry about and—at the moment—no girlfriends either.” He was swirling a pattern on her hand. “And we’re particular who we hire to work for us.”
Her smile slipped a notch. “Oh, I don’t suppose you…”
He bent toward her. “We were big into Dungeons & Dragons when we were kids and we still like to role-play.” His grin was cocky. “And we like our employees to play along too.”
Wendy felt a jolt of pure yearning drive through her lower body. He was incredibly handsome and the look he was giving her could have melted stone. “What kind of role-playing?” she asked.
His slow, sensual grin sent shivers down her spine. “Oh, the usual kind. Poor, down-on-her-luck damsel in distress looking for a job. Dastardly brothers offering her one for the exclusive use of her…” He slid his hot gaze down her. “Bod,” he finished with a quirk of his brow.
She drew in a breath. “I beg your pardon?”
“You can do that as well,” he said. “Never hurts to add a little begging to the mix to get a man hard and primed.”
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth and drawing on her experience as an actor in several high school and college plays, Wendy lowered her eyes and eased her hand from his, threading her fingers together in her lap. “I…” she said, letting her voice become meek and hesitant. “I really need a job.”
Drake rested the underside of his forearm on his crooked knee and gave her a steady look. “And what would you be willing to do to get that job, Miss Cole?”
Her voice trembling, she lifted her eyes to his. “Anything, Mr. Quinlan,” she said, her lips quivering.
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