[When SEALs Come Home 04] - Heated by Anne Marsh Page B

the grease off them. “Bob as in bobcat?”
    “Bob as in battery-operated boyfriend.”
    He blinked. “Wow.”
    “And Bob as in better than.” She might as well be totally honest.
    “The ultimate Bob, huh?” He gently bumped her out of the way and dropped into the driver’s seat. Holding out his hand, he waggled his fingers. “Key?”
    “I can do it.” The rest of tonight’s repair job was out of her league, despite his attempts to explain, but the turning-the-key-in-the-ignition part? She had that much covered.
    “And I can help,” he said easily. In no hurry to get going, he held out his fingers in front of the carrier so Bob could sniff him. “I’ve got a loaner cat.”
    “Now it’s my turn to say wow. I never imagined you were a cat person.”
    “I like cats,” he said easily. “In fact, I like all sorts of—”
    “Don’t say it.” She reached in and slapped a hand over his mouth. She could feel his smile growing beneath her fingers, and then he nipped her.
    “You need to pull your mind out of the gutter, Deputy. What kind of pet do you see me with?”
    A jaguar. A big mountain cat. Something exotic that might take your head off and your throat out. He simply didn’t seem like the kind of guy who cozied up with nine pounds of house cat love.
    “How can a cat be loaner?” Deflect.
    “He belongs to my sister, but she’s off honeymooning with Mr. Medina and attempting to make a two-legged replacement for the cat.”
    “You can have a cat and a baby.”
    He sighed. “I’m better with cats than babies.”
    She couldn’t afford to think about babies and Joey in the same sentence, because that led to thoughts about making babies.
    “Where did you learn to fix cars?” she asked instead.
    “I have a garage where I restore and fix bikes in the off-season from jumping.” He turned the key in the ignition, and her motor purred to life. “Problem solved. Now you owe me.”
    That’s what she was afraid of.
    “Out.” She tapped him on the shoulder.
    “Ungrateful,” he countered, his eyes laughing at her. Before she could react, he tugged her down onto his lap. She drove a Honda Civic, which meant she’d sat on benches with more room. Joey’s caveman tactic had her jammed between the steering wheel and a hard male chest. She stared down at the arm wrapped around her middle and wondered if he could tell through her clothes that she liked cookies too much and sit-ups too little. Just in case he thought she was okay with being manhandled (and honestly, right now? She didn’t mind), she wriggled in token protest and discovered a whole lot of happy to see you beneath her butt. Oh .
    “This is not what I had in mind.” She made a grab for the key. Not that she had any idea how that would help, but she needed to do something.
    “Shhh.” He leaned forward and covered her fingers with his. Grease and pine trees and a scent that was wholly, indescribably Joey surrounded her. She could have happily sat there smelling him—pathetic—but he was doing more with his mouth than just trying to shut her up. He brushed his mouth over her ear, and she shivered, getting goose bumps in all the right places. “You think too much.”
    Thinking too little caused problems. Right now, for example, she wanted to blurt out take me, big boy , and that had to be one of the stupidest ideas of the century.
    “Get out of my car.”
    “In a minute. I’m perfectly comfortable.”
    “This is completely inappropriate.”
    “Maybe.” He didn’t sound like he minded.
    “There’s no maybe about it, Joey Carter.”
    ***
    H e was crazy. He’d never slapped that label on himself, but maybe he’d suffered a head injury on that last tour of duty. God knew, he’d run headlong into one dangerous situation after another. Playing with Mercedes Hernandez, Mercy , was crazy. Absolutely, unequivocally crazy. She squirmed on his lap, and instead of letting her go, he tightened his arm. She felt so damned good. Curvy and