There’s nothing Andi Manning doesn’t know about cars. Working at Kasen’s Kustom Automotive is a dream job, and it’s even more fun now that they’ve turned the garage into Revved Up, a reality television show for overhauling classic cars. Watching drop-dead gorgeous Dean Kasen work his magic on those sweet rides is no hardship, either. She’s wanted him for years, but never had the courage to act on her desires.
The network offers Dean the chance for the local show to go national as long as a sexy bombshell helps host it. Andi is perfect for the role—if she’s willing to discard her coveralls and bend over engines in tight shorts, a tank top, and heels. Now that she’s gone from cute coworker to sexpot, Dean can’t keep his hands off of her. But Dean feels guilty for sleeping with an employee and Andi has to wonder...the only time they spend together is in bed, so is it her he wants, or just the revved up goddess of the show?
Note: This book was previously published and has been revised from its original release.
“No way in hell.”
Andi stared in horror at the full length-mirror before her. It had seemed like a good idea when Jesse had mentioned being the new hostess for the national syndication of Revved Up. He said the network and the show's new producer wanted to bring a woman onto the show, and he wanted someone who knew their way around cars. Andi fit the bill for both, and she would love to have a hand in planning the custom jobs. This was her chance to step up her game.
READ MOREThat was before she'd seen the wardrobe for her new role in the garage. She'd worked at Kasen Kustom for five years, and she loved what she did. Really loved it. It was fun and challenging to turn classic cars back into the cherry rides they'd once been. With a few extra modernizations. She'd loved it even more when they'd turned the garage into a reality show. But she was a background player in all of it, and she wanted to show them what she could really do. Apparently, that meant she had to learn how to walk in high heels. Jesse had handed her off to the new producer, Lola Adams, who'd stuffed her into too-tight clothes, tugged her hair out of its usual ponytail, pulled out the biggest make up kit Andi had ever seen. Now she just stared in the mirror at the streetwalker who used to be Andi Manning.
“No way in hell.” She stumbled back, holding out her hands as if to ward off her own reflection.
Lola tilted her head, her pale hair spilling over her shoulder. “I think it works. You look sexy and that's what we're going for. I think it'll bring in even more viewers now that we're taking the show to the next level.”
Mouth gaping open, Andi couldn't even find the words to respond to that. The coveralls she was wearing were cut into tight shorts that were opened to the waist. The tank top underneath stretched across her breasts and was just short enough to expose an inch of her midriff. Her brown hair fell in smooth ripples to the middle of her back. All the makeup Lola had piled on Andi's face somehow made her hazel eyes stand out appear more gold than their usual brownish-green.
The woman in the mirror was no one she knew.
Spinning on her heel meant she damn near toppled over in the pointy stilettos, but she marched out of the bathroom and into the garage. A few of the guys let out low whistles and she gave them a glare that sent them scurrying to find work to do.
Jesse poked his blond head out of the office, his green eyes going wide for a moment before he caught her gaze. Whatever he said faltered as he sensed the waves of fury coming off her. He stumbled away from the door while she shoved her way in and slammed it behind her.
“What the hell is this, Jesse? Is this some kind of a joke to you? Because I sure don't appreciate you jerking me around.” Yeah, he was her boss. At the moment, she didn't care. He'd had her tarted up like a hooker gone Hollywood. Considering they were in Nevada, where prostitution was legal, she'd rather no one was confused about whether she made her living on her back.
There was dead silence while mouth men in the room stared at her, their jaws sagging. She jammed her hands down on her hips. “What?”
Jesse recovered first, coughing into his fist. “Nothing. You just look different.”
“I look like I work at the Mustang Ranch,” she shot back, naming a famous local whorehouse.
Dean snorted, a little smile curling his mouth. His gaze slid down her body and back up again. Slowly. An involuntary shiver went through her at the heat in his eyes. How many times had she wondered what it would be like for Dean Kasen to look at her just like that?
COLLAPSE