Page 8 of Vicious Temptation

“That sounds like very convenient bullshit.”

He raises his hands another inch.

“I know. I can see how this looks. But I couldn’t just drive past you. Besides, I’m cold as fuck, and I wouldn’t mind getting out of the rain.”

“No shit. You look like a drowned bodybuilder.”

For a second, I consider taking his truck, but that still leaves me with the problem of what to do with him. I glance toward the empty stretch of highway, then look at him again.

“Turn around,” I tell him, motioning with my pistol. “All the way.”

He hesitates before complying, turning in a slow circle and giving me a clear enough view to confirm he isn’t carrying.

Remi, you better not regret this.

I lower my weapon but keep it in my hand.

“A GT-R,” he says, sounding a little more relaxed. “Nice. Want me to take a look?”

“No. I’ve got it.”

He nods once. “Okay. I respect that.”

I almost roll my eyes. Most men hear I’ve got it and treat it like a personal challenge.

“I don’t have my lamp, so I need you to hold this flashlight for me. Think you can manage that without getting shot, Mr. Maybe Serial Killer?”

He laughs, and my attention drops to his mouth before I catch myself. I’m not fucking blind. The man is ridiculously attractive, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to trust a pretty face.

I holster my Glock and bend over the engine again, handing him the flashlight as he moves beside me.

“Hold it steady.”

He adjusts the beam exactly where I need it without trying to take over, which earns him at least one point in his favor.

I lean closer, using the better angle to inspect the areas I couldn’t see clearly before.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I reach deeper and run my fingers along the fuel line, checking the connections by touch.

“It’s starving.”

“What?”

“Fuel. It’s not feeding right.”

I follow the line toward the rail, searching for anything the impact might have knocked loose, but I come up empty this time too.

“It held through the run,” I say, thinking out loud. “Then it started cutting after the hit. The throttle was hesitating, too.”

“Sounds expensive.”

I look at him. “Everything about this car is expensive.”

His mouth twitches, but I’m already over the engine again.

“Could be the fuel pump, or the line isn’t holding pressure.”

I check the housing one last time before accepting what I already know. I can’t fix this on the shoulder of the road with no way to properly test the fuel system.