Overdrive by Chloe Cole

floor as she willed herself forward. If she didn’t stop being such a chicken, this was never going to work. And man, did she want it to work. A half dozen hesitant steps and finally she stood before him. She craned her neck to meet his gaze. “I’m here.”
    “Do you want to know why I’m really here? It’s because I couldn’t wait another second to see you. I can’t get you out of my head. I dreamt about you…us. And every time I tried to get something done in my office this morning, I’d lose my train of thought. All I could think about was you, last night, calling my name as you came. I’m not here about dinner. I’m here because I want you so bad I can hardly see straight.”
    He didn’t touch her, but the words sent a spear of white-hot lust through her. She wanted to respond, to tell him she felt the same way, but her tongue was frozen to the roof of her mouth.
    “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, this time. I meant everything I said, and seeing you now is exactly what I needed to get me through the rest of the day. That said, I’m happy to feed you as well,” he finished with a wink. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he walked backward toward the door. “Seven’s still good. Come hungry, I bought two gigantic porterhouse steaks.”
    By the time he left, she was trembling. With a moan, she plopped down on a stool in the corner. Surely this level of anticipation wasn’t good for a person. She was setting herself—and worse, Mac—up for a big letdown. What if it was awful? Or she did something stupid and embarrassing like she had with Nick? She cringed at the thought.
    But Mac wasn’t Nick, and she wasn’t seventeen anymore. She was a healthy, red-blooded woman. It was time to start acting like it.
     
     
    “Is it cooked enough for you? I can put it back on the grill for another few minutes if you’d rather,” Mac said.
    Frankie sent an apologetic smile his way. The steak was medium rare, exactly how she liked it, but she couldn’t seem to choke more than a few bites down. Her leg bounced under the table as she pushed the mushrooms around on her plate. “It’s delicious, but…I think I’m too nervous to eat.” In fact, she hadn’t eaten much at all today. Once Mac left the garage, the day had gone by in a blur, most of which she spent imagining what their night would be like. Now that it was finally here, part of her wished she was back at the garage daydreaming about it. The reality was almost too much to bear.
    Mac set his fork down and took her hand. “Let’s go sit and talk for a while. See if we can’t make you feel a little more at ease.”
    He urged her to leave the plates on the table and led her to the living room. Like the rest of the house, it was elegant but not opulent and gave off a sense of warmth. A huge, L-shaped leather couch sat in the center of the room, facing a gorgeous marble fireplace with a giant flat-screen TV mounted above it.
    “Did you do the decorating?” she asked, taking in the strategic pops of bamboo-greens and burnt-oranges that kept the rich, chocolate-brown of the room from feeling too masculine.
    “Actually, I did. It’s not so different from architecture in the sense that you want a building or room to evoke a certain feeling when you’re in it. Color, texture and shape all come together to create that illusion.”
    She shook her head in amazement. “I don’t want to pump up your ego too much, but you seriously have such a good eye for this kind of thing.”
    “Thanks. And don’t worry, my mother tells me daily what a waste of time my job is. No chance of me getting a swollen head over it when she’s right there to let the air out.” His tone was a lot less bitter than it could have been.
    “Doesn’t that make you feel like crap?”
    “It used to,” he said with a shrug. “But I realized a long time ago that she’s not going to change. If I let it get to me, it’s only going to make me unhappy. I can only please