One
Rubi Russo whipped her brand-new Aston Martin onto the set of the new Bond film and into a parking spot reserved for the film crew. Even though Los Angeles traffic kept her from pushing the legendary sports coupe anywhere near its top speed of two-fifty-one, she’d enjoyed her first ride off the showroom floor.
She shut off the engine and grabbed her purse from the passenger’s seat. Through the window, her gaze halted on the charcoal four-wheel-drive Ford F150 parked nearby, and her mind veered toward its owner. He’d become a permanent fixture in her mind—those wide shoulders, that lazy stance, his cocky grin.
A giddy, tingling lust tightened her insides. Eye candy always enhanced a girl’s mood, and there was no better place to grab a little sugar than among the studs of Renegades. But she’d come to prefer the company of one stud in particular.
She smiled down at the collection of notes she kept in the ashtray—ones he’d started leaving on the windshield of her car at different times of the day, almost every day, for the last two months. Because they always made her smile, she’d transferred them from the Ferrari when she’d traded it in. Sometimes the note of the day was a cartoon or a joke. Often it was some funny reference to physics, something they talked about regularly since she’d started designing a series of stunt apps for the Renegades.
Today’s had read:
I’M AMPING THE PUCKER FACTOR TODAY.
YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS THIS THRILL RIDE.
Which had been the first she’d heard of a stunt running today. Confirmation of a stunt had come from the owner of the Renegades in a phone call later that morning.
She grabbed her phone and notebook and stood from the car, turning her face up to the midday Southern California sun. Warmth bathed her skin, draining some of the morning’s tension from her shoulders. It felt good to be out of the house, away from all that computer code, like a real person with real friends. Which was one of the major benefits of creating these apps for Jax—she got to hang with this dynamic group of adrenaline junkies.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that she and Jax had agreed that in exchange for building the applications for use on devices such as iPads and iPhones, she would be free to sell them, as she did her other apps and programs. The power she planned to incorporate into these apps with detailed physics calculations and mathematical equations for every aspect of every type of stunt, no other apps out there could even compare. She’d make a decent chunk of change once she put them out on the open market.
The rumble of a motorcycle engine drew her attention down the long strip of concrete known as the Sixth Street Viaduct. The man-made cement canal guided the Los Angeles River through the heart of the city, but was now cluttered with all sorts of machinery, cameras and props.
She started toward the action, smoothing her hands over the filmy skirt that rode too high on her freakishly long legs. Tried to tug at her halter’s bottom edge exposing a bare inch of skin, but ultimately couldn’t hide the diamond stud at her belly button without exaggerating her cleavage. Oh well.
Finger-combing her hair off her forehead, she sauntered toward a group of tall, well-built men loitering near one of the cameras. She spotted Jax Chamberlin, the owner of Renegades and her best friend’s new love, gesturing as he spoke to Daniel Craig’s costar on the film, Jason Bolton, and the director. A couple of younger men Rubi knew as production assistants hung at the edge.
She passed one of the site’s security guards, who grinned and saluted. Rubi returned the gesture.
She approached the set and focused on Wes Lawson, Renegades’ top stunt driver, where he straddled a cherry-red Ducati—one of the world’s fastest motorcycles. There was no outward sign the man covered in black from helmet to boot tips was him. It could have been any of the other Renegades’ stunt men who rode motorcycles, which was, of course, all of them. But what gave Wes away completely—beyond the studly build she’d memorized—was his impatience. He navigated a slow, tight pattern around the group, like a circling shark. Occasionally, he revved the engine, smothering their conversation with the bike’s growl.
He maneuvered dangerously close to Jax on each pass, the action surely designed to either annoy Jax or hurry him up. Maybe both. Rubi grinned at his antsy behavior—ever the kid who couldn’t wait to reach the playground. Every last one of the Renegades she’d met was a kid at heart. A smart-ass, feisty, too-sharp-for-his-own-good kid inside a hot man’s body. But Wes was the most mischievous, most daring and, by far, the sexiest of them all.
The click of Rubi’s heels drew the director’s attention. The rest of the men followed his glance—all with the same stupefied expressions. All except Jax.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” His voice tilted toward resigned frustration, one Jax often used with Wes. “You can’t come out here dressed like…like…” One hand lifted, gesturing the length of her body. “Like…that. Guys are working here, Rubi. I can’t have them off in porn fantasy land while they’re running stunts.”
He swung one hand toward a pile of crumpled cars down the length of the viaduct, burned out and still smoking, huddled in a haphazard heap as if they’d recently crashed.
She stopped several yards away, crossed her arms, and smiled indulgently. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Jaxy-boy.” The irritated press of his lips made her grin. He hated the nickname she’d given him. “I’m taking your girl to lunch today, remember? And you didn’t tell me you were running a stunt or that I’d need to be here to watch? So I made other plans this morning—and dressed accordingly.”
She’d been negotiating a sale price for the Aston when he’d called, and estimated the outfit had saved her at least five grand.
The Ducati revved, and Wes shot the bike between the group and Rubi. She pulled up short with a gasp. Heat from the bike whooshed over her body.
The helmet hid his mouth, but those deep gray-blue eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile.
“Don’t listen to him.” His deep voice was muffled behind the gear. “You look perfect. And you’re just in time. We’re going to run the real thing.”
That giddy electricity in her belly intensified. She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head and worked up her easy, sexy grin. “Wes, if you run over Jax’s toes, he’s going to take away that pretty toy between your legs.”
He laughed, his head falling back. The sound was so rich, so damn happy it trilled through Rubi, leaving her body a sizzling mess of carbonation. Then he released the Ducati’s handles, letting the bike idle while he pulled off his helmet.
His hair fell all over the place as it came free. Light gold on top, wheat-colored underneath, it gleamed in the sunshine. Static electricity from the helmet’s padding grabbed a few strands and pulled them into the air.
Rubi reached up to finger them back into place. Only when the soft, warm, sweat-dampened strands slipped between her fingers did she realize the misstep. A wicked craving kicked deep in her body. Delicious, languid desire tightened her throat.
And, shit, she’d floated over that damn no-touching line again—a line he had a way of making her forget all about.
She told herself to pull her hand back, but it had been such a long time since she’d done something as simple as touch a man’s hair. Okay, maybe not that long. Maybe it had been a long time since she’d touched a man’s hair with a purpose other than fisting it during sex.
An image of her hands fisted in Wes’s hair, his hands and mouth pleasuring her body, flashed in her mind. Heat exploded at her core and spread. Quick. So damn quick, she almost didn’t catch herself from a headlong fall straight into him. Her gaze lowered to his mouth, those lush, masculine lips she wanted to taste. To know.
He propped the helmet between his legs and leaned forward. The teasing heat in those smoky eyes had deepened. “Trying to distract me? ’Cause it’s working.”
“Not really. But as long as I’m here…”
He let his gaze skim down her body again with an I-gotta-have-every-inch-of-that-now-or-I’m-gonna-chew-my-arm-off groan. “As long as you’re here…”
“Wes,” Jax called as he walked toward another camera, “we’re going again in five.”
“I’m so ready,” Wes said without taking his eyes off Rubi. He definitely wasn’t talking about the stunt, and his voice sounded as decadent, sinful as dark chocolate.
She lowered her gaze to ease the unsettling current growing between them. His body armor, tucked into pockets of the neoprene, covered his most vulnerable areas—shoulders, elbows, chest, hips, package… A very nice package she’d noticed on more than one occasion.
The thought forced her gaze back to his square jaw dusted with golden stubble, then higher. Avoiding those stormy gray eyes, she inspected his new haircut, shorter on the sides, longer on top.
“I like the cut,” she said, holding back from another suggestive comment.
Wes didn’t show such restraint. “Feel free to sink your hands in anytime.”
She pretended the words didn’t vibrate in her belly. “Did you go to Sterling Shears?”
“And saw Julie, just like you suggested.”
“I knew she’d do you right.”
His grin heated, eyes sparked. “I’d rather you did me right.”
The low vibration of his voice made her tingle everywhere. And he just kept smiling into her eyes, as if he really saw her. Saw beneath her looks, her attitude, all her smoke and mirrors. Her throat tightened.
She’d been operating under the one-night-stand-only guideline for years, and that safety net worked for her. But she didn’t throw friends into the pool of possible sex partners. She only had to remember the hearts she’d damaged to remind herself she either did friendship or sex—not both. Never both.
Narrowing her eyes, she met his gaze again. “You’re extra playful today.”
He leaned forward, still braced on the helmet, bringing him closer. So close the outer gray-blue ring of his irises contrasted with the lighter center and his spiky golden lashes. “Have dinner with me tonight. Just us. No Jax. No Lexi.” He paused, and Rubi felt the grip of his intent stare at the center of her chest. “You and me, Rubi.”
His mouth was saying dinner. But his eyes were saying the best, eye-crossing, beg-for-mercy sex of your life.
And her body screamed yes with a flare of dizzying heat. But equally dizzying apprehension raised a wall that cooled her down. “Where’s this coming from?” She crossed her arms. “You know I’m not into the dating scene.”
Vulnerability hinted in his eyes and tugged at Rubi’s heart. “Then don’t call it a date. I’d just like to get you alone.”
Alone.
Oh dear God.
The battle of the Titans warred inside her, and she had to look away to find the strength to do the right thing. She sucked at letting guys down easy. She wasn’t one of his typical nice girls, but she wasn’t the type to use friends either.
“No, Wes, that’s not my game. And I like what we have.” Rubi forced her mouth into a smile, slipping into the flighty, careless cover she’d perfected. “Get to work, Lawson. I’ve got information to gather, and a lunch date with Lexi.”