“RYde, wait!”
The urgent call touched my ears just as I’d let my foot off the pedal and begun rolling forward. I pressed back down on the brake and adjusted my rearview mirror, watching as a man raced toward me, coming to a complete and screeching halt right at my passenger side window.
Too caught off guard to be startled, I lowered my window a crack and peeked up at him over the rim of my reflective orange-tinged sunglasses. Holy mother of yoga goats! My eyes amplified at the sheer awesomeness of what they were seeing. The man was beautiful. So attractive, in fact, that if I’d seen him walking down the street while leading one of my city tours, I’d have pointed him out to my giddy tourists and made up some story about him being a rising Hollywood star… and I’d probably have been right.
Everything about him was spot on, like his DNA had been meticulously pieced together by a master artist. He was young, yes, but still within that sweet spot where PTA moms could eye-hump him without feeling icky. This was the kind of guy who landed acting gigs even if he couldn’t act, the kind of guy who got upgraded to first class even if he’d purchased the basic fare, the kind of guy who could post something totally lame on Instagram and still get a thousand likes.
I soaked in his classically angled face, side-swept hair, and long, muscled physique like a flower might benefit from the first drops of morning dew. It was true, I preferred a man to have lived a few more years, but there was a generous amount of wiggle room when the subject in question had a guitar case slung lazily over his shoulder.
Did he have talent? Did I care?No. As far as I was concerned, any guy who had the ability to carry even the corner end of a tune was instantly five shades hotter.Slow it down, Jess,I lectured myself. No way could I entangle myself with this musical Thor. Not only was he too young to be anything more than a one-night stand, but musicians in general were a notoriously prickly bunch, and letting my guard down around them could only lead to an early morning walk of shame. If I were smart, I’d roll up my rent-a-ride windows and get the hell out of here.
If I were smart.
My finger hit the button and I slid the passenger side window down to get a better look. Wow, the outfit. What was this guy wearing? He looked like one of those shiny Christmas balls you hang on a tree. Yet, strangely, the odd getup did nothing to cancel out his hotness.
“I need a ride,” he said, with more command than a dude wearing disco pants should be allowed to possess. He said it like he just assumed I’d open my legs… I mean…doorfor him.
Retracting my wagging tongue, I replied with as much composure as possible, “Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. You can’t hail a RYde – gotta order on your app.”
“I know that.” His frustration sharpened each word. “I just need…”
The man’s stunning greenish-gray eyes darted back and forth between me and something of interest down the street. “Look, just let me in. I don’t have a lot of time.”
Um… hello, dictator. This guy obviously didn’t hear the word ‘no’ very often. Granted, I hadn’t yet decided if he’d hear it from me, but one thing was certain, I needed to establish some ground rules before my lust allowed him to walk all over me.
“Nor do I, bud. Not a chance I’m driving you around for free.”
“And I’m not expecting you to. I’ll pay you cash.”
Cash? Now why hadn’t he said that in the first place? Twenty-something guys rarely carried that dinosaur accessory around anymore unless they were on vacation—riding my tours with their wives or girlfriends. My eyes narrowed in on his ring finger… and found nothing. All right, another plus. Sexy, possibly single, and definitely safe because anyone dressed like Elton John was no threat to me.
Now all we needed to do was come to a mutually beneficial financial agreement.
Or not.
I watched in stunned disbelief as he jiggled the handle on my passenger side door without so much as a negotiation. Seriously? Did he think I was an amateur? I hadn’t survived all this time in Los Angeles with an unlocked door.
“Ah, ah, ah.” I shook my finger. “Cash first. Then getaway.”
He dipped his head into the open window, a slight smile erasing the stress lines in his forehead. I gulped, taking in that marquee-worthy face of his and understanding that, going forward, this hot, young stud was going to star in a good deal of my nighttime fantasies.
“That’s not how getaways work,” he explained, adopting a more patient stance. “I say go. You drive.”
Please. He acted like I hadn’t inhaled all forty-five installments of theFast and Furiousfranchise. I think I knew what a getaway entailed.
“Well, you see,” I countered, summoning every bit of my reserve sass, “without cash up front, that sounds more like a car-jacking to me.”
His eyes widened, clearly surprised by my spunk, and that barely-there smile of his tipped up even higher. Good god, he had full-on leading man dazzle. Who let this guy out of his gilded cage?
“You don’t mess around, do you?” he asked, the amusement in his tone almost enough for me to hand over my keys. Almost.
“Oh, I’ve messed around plenty in my life, which is why I’m now dusted in a fine layer of shame.”
Okay, Jess. Too much information. We talked about this.
As you might imagine, that little tidbit about my past exploits perked the man right up. There was nothing like the promise of a woman with questionable virtue to get the juices flowing in a red-blooded male. His eyes slowly roved over me, letting it be known he was forming all kinds of preconceived notions. This was probably a good time to mention to him that the sprinkling of rebellion I’d once enjoyed had long since died. But the idea that I might actually star in one ofhisnighttime fantasies kept me from correcting his wandering mind.
“Quinn, wait!”
