In the Groove Read Online Free PDF Page B

through the shop," Lance soothed in his Carolina voice.
    "I'll have to find out where to get them from, but that shouldn't be a problem," the mechanic said.
    "We can pay for your car to be repaired and take it out of your salary," Mr. Lowenstein added. "Not all at once, but a little bit at a time. That way you'll have a car to drive when you're not busy driving for Lance."
    And she would have to drive for Lance, she realized. She'd driven across the country in a burst of misplaced optimism, had hoped to find one of the jobs that she'd been told were so prevalent in booming Charlotte, North Carolina. It'd taken her two weeks to realize that North Carolina school board politics prevented those on the outside from getting in, no matter what the woman on the phone had told her. When she'd seen the help wanted ad for a bus driver, she'd thought it might be for a private school, thought maybe she'd get to know a few people, maybe move up the waiting list for a teaching job. She'd been shocked to realize the "bus" she'd be driving had actually been converted into a coach and that she'd be driving it from race to race for a famous driver. Even still, for some reason, she'd pictured a local-type driver, not... not...
    A drop-dead gorgeous hunk of a man.
    "Oh, jeez," she said, dropping her head into her hands.
    "It'll be okay," Lance said, sitting down next to her. "You'll have your car back in no time."
    "Well, I don't know..." his mechanic started to say.
    "In no time," Lance repeated. "I promise."
    He completely contradicted everything she'd heard about professional athletes, Sarah admitted. He wasn't a jerk. He didn't appear to have an ego. And he'd treated her with nothing but respect ever since they'd first met—well, aside from the pool-boy incident. Of course, she wasn't his type and so it wasn't like he'd try and make a pass at her. Ever. And he'd run her down in his car and so he had to be nice to her.
    Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "You don't have to worry I'm going to sue you."
    He drew back, then smirked at his business manager. "Looks like she has you pegged, Sal."
    "I'm not worried about a lawsuit," Sal denied.
    But years of handling tiny little males stood Sarah in good stead. "Yes, you are," she corrected. "And I understand why, but you don't need to be."
    "And you don't need to worry, either. We'll fix your car," Lance interjected. "Heck. That's the business we're in, so before you start protesting, just remember we fix cars every day. And if you like, we'll get you a rental so you can get around town. We get great deals through some of the rental car agencies. And if you don't feel up to driving my coach out to Daytona tomorrow, you can start next week."
    "No, really—"
    "No arguments," he interrupted. "This is how it's going to be done. Now. Let's go get your stuff out of your car. You're spending the night with me."

    He almost laughed at the look on her face.
    "I don't mean in my bed," he added.
    Which, of course, made her blush, and made her instantly say, "No, no. Of course not."
    He almost contradicted her.
    Of course not?
    Could she really think he didn't find her attractive? Was she that beaten down?
    What's more, there was no flirtatious comment back, no look of pure, sexual interest pouring from her eyes. He almost smiled just because it was so nice, so damn nice, to be looked at like a human instead of a walking dollar sign. No wonder Sal had hired her on the spot.
    "I really think you should stay here. Doc Brown said it's all superficial, but I'd feel better if you had someone nearby. Or are you living with somebody?"
    Again, no flirtatious glances, no look of invitation, no nothing. "No. Just a few dozen cockroaches."
    "Well then, good. You can sleep in one of my guest rooms," he added, not giving her time to answer, just standing up and saying, "And when you feel up to it, I can show you the motor coach."
    "A guest room isn't necessary. I'll be fine on my own. And I can look over the bus on my own. You