"Grant, not sir." The man reached his hand out to her once again, but this time in a gesture to shake hers. She accepted, first wiping off the accumulated grit from the wheel well onto the blue coveralls that she had placed over her BDUs. His hand was smooth compared to her rough, calloused one, and warm. She felt her face heat at the brief contact and ended the handshake almost as soon as it had begun, pulling her hand from his firm grip. No weak handshake here. He shakes like a real man ought to shake. She tried to push the thoughts out of her mind and focus on the job at hand.

"So, Grant," she began, clearing her throat once more. "This your jet?"

There had been a flicker in his eyes as she had pulled her hand away—of disappointment? Of indignity? She wasn't certain, but it disappeared now, to be replaced with a glint of pride. The man even stood a little straighter than he already was as he turned to the jet in question, encompassing it with his gaze. "Yeah." His deep voice held a note of affection. "This is my bird."

"I checked it out, and I'm pretty sure I found the leak." Crystal reached for the gray box containing a permaswedge pump. "Thankfully, it's a small one and won't require me to fabricate an entirely new fitting or special order one. I can simply resqueeze it, and you and your bird will be on your way." She bent to open the case. Grant was only a few feet away and to her chagrin, she discovered that by bending over, she was on eye level with his crotch. Rather than avert her gaze, she found herself looking closely at it. For what? Inwardly, she scolded herself. But damn, the man filled out his uniform just fine...

"Thank you." Grant's voice wrapped itself around her. It was deep and sexy. Crystal fought off visions of starlit nights, sultry kisses, and champagne glasses clinking together. She was definitely going off the deep end.

I sauntered outside, tossing my black mane, relishing in the feel of the setting sun brandishing my skin, wishing I could replace it with hot hands. I grabbed the hose from where it was connected in front of the house and, watching from the corner of my eye, I began running water over my car. Not even five minutes passed and I felt his eyes on me. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to turn and meet his stare.

It only took ten minutes for him to come outside under the pretense of playing catch with his little boy. By this point, I was soaked and knew my nipples were visible through my top. The smack of a ball repeatedly hitting a glove was the only background noise I heard as I grabbed a sponge from the soap bucket and scrubbed the roof of my car. I allowed my shorts to climb higher up my buttocks as my hips swayed with my scrubbing movement. I had a very dirty roof. It required me to reach further and further and my breasts squashed against the car windows. I felt my nipples harden under the cold water, but the rest of me, the lower part of me was burning up.

Still, I refused to turn, refused to allow Juan to see my front.

Thump went the ball into a glove.

I maneuvered around my vehicle at a crawling pace, keeping my back to the street. I bent over my trunk, reaching for a spot I had missed in the first scrubbing, the sponge clutched so tightly in my hand that it ached, much like the rest of my body.

Thump went the ball into a glove.

I finished with that spot and finally turned around, allowing my wet hair to swish and slap my cheek as I braced myself against the trunk, pretending to need my balance on the wet driveway. My eyes were closed, and I tilted my head back to catch the last of the sun's rays on my face, the front end of me dripping wet. The inside of my shorts were even wetter.

Crash went the ball into a car window.

I smiled as I realized I had obtained my goal. Juan was mine...