“That’s my cue.” She grabbed her drink and headed out of the kitchen, leaving Delilah and Mac to deal with the canine-feline catastrophe that was underway.
Exiting the long hall leading from the kitchen into the custom motorcycle shop, Emily noticed that one of the big, rolling garage doors was open. Delilahhad piqued her curiosity, so she headed toward it, past the bike lifts, the tool chests, and the line of gleaming custom choppers. The air inside the shop smelled of grease, hot metal, and strong coffee, but the warm spring breeze beckoned her outside.
High in the afternoon sky, the sun cast short shadows across the front expanse of the property. Black Knights Inc. was set on half a city block,surrounded by a ten-foot brick wall and populated with the old foreman’s cottage out front, the large factory building in the center, and a bunch of recently added outbuildings around the back.
It was quite something, actually. The place. The people. All living and working undercover in the heart of the Windy City. Emily felt a sense of home, a sense ofbelonging, and couldn’t help but thankChristian for making sure nothing that’d happened between them had jeopardized that for her.
He was a man of his word. A man of honor, courage, loyalty, and strength. She couldn’t deny the presence of all those bright, sparkly feelings whenever she thought of him. Whenever she—
Oh, for the love of Frank Thomas!
She was going to kill Delilah.
A show? Seriously?
Emily wasn’tseeing a show. She was seeing an ovary-exploding, panty-slicking display the likes of which should be outlawed. She was sorely tempted to call the local police to put an end to it. You know, for the safety of women’s reproductive organs and underwear the world over.
Christian was washing his Porsche. A bucket of soap sat on the ground. A big sponge dripped suds in his hand. The lazy yellowsun glinted off his dark hair and bare shoulders.
That’s right.Bareshoulders.
Christian Watson wasn’t just washing his car. Christian Watson was washing his car…shirtless.
The muscles in his tattooed arms flexed and bunched as he scrubbed at the hood of the Porsche. Tiny droplets of water—or sweat—clung to his pecs. And his six-pack abs accordioned as he stretched across the vehicleto scrub at a recalcitrant spot.
Emily realized two things simultaneously. One, she wasn’t alone in enjoying “the show.” Two, her mouth was hanging open. Both things became apparent when Becky, BKI’s head mechanic and motorcycle designer, and the woman who kept all their covers intact, said, “I think you dropped something, Em. It looks a lot like your jaw.”
Emily snapped her teeth shutand turned to see Becky and Penni leaning up against the side of the shop, eyeing Christian with undisguised appreciation. Becky was in her usual coveralls, a grease smudge on her cheek, the ends of her long, blond ponytail dark because she’d inadvertently dragged it through a patch of oil. And Penni, a former Secret Service agent and current wife to BKI badass Dan “The Man” Currington, was bouncingher baby girl on her hip and not attempting to hide her smirk.
Emily mumbled something unkind about both women even as she joined them. Christian didn’t bother pretending she wasn’t there. When she settled back against the shop’s brick exterior, fortifying herself with another swig of old-fashioned, he lifted his head and gave her a wink. The smile that accompanied that wink was slightly mischievous—andcompletely lecherous. It did naughty things to her, making her tingle in places that had no business tingling now that she’d been forced to put the kibosh on their—
“Is it just me,” Penni said conversationally, “or should that man immediately be inducted into the Hall of Fine?”
“It isn’t just you,” Becky was quick to concur. “Who knew all that”—she motioned toward Christian with one grease-stainedhand—“was hiding under those designer clothes?” Turning to Emily, she took a grape-flavored Dum Dum lollipop from her pocket and pointed the treat at Emily’s nose. “So what do you reckon? Are we looking at a case of the body snatchers or is he a replicant?”
“Huh?” Emily frowned, trying—and failing—to rip her eyes away from Christian.
“The guy wouldn’t wear short sleeves a month ago, andnow he’s going shirtless. So what gives?”
A campaign of emotional persuasion and physical seduction, Emily thought, calling Christian every dirty name in the book because, truth was, his plan wasworking.
“Being in love with her has changed him,” Penni mused. “He’s less repressed. More willing to let his hair down.”
“And take his shirtoff,” Becky added with a chuckle.
“PraiseJesus.” Penni nodded.
“Amen.”
Emily attempted to burn their eyebrows off with her scowl. “Don’t you two have husbands you should be ogling instead of Christian?”
Becky grinned. “Why, Emily, that sounded a little jealous.”
“Definitely jealous,” Penni agreed.
“Ugh!” Emily tossed a hand in the air. “Why does everyone keepsayingthat? Did you all have a meeting or something? Didyou get together to come up with ways to drive me bugfucking crazy?”
“Language, please.” Penni covered little Cora May’s ears.
