That was it. There was nothing more I could do.
"Please," I said, coming around the desk and getting close to the man, so close I could smell the paint on his skin. "I'll treat you really nice. You won't regret it for a second."
I glanced down and could see a small erection tenting the fabric of his jumpsuit.
"S-sorry," he said, clearly doing his best to resist temptation. "But the boss would send my ass out onto the street if I traded paint for pussy."
I was this close to reaching down and taking hold of his prick, hoping that his head would block out any sense he had left.
But before I could say or do anything else, the bell to the door chimed again. My head whipped over to see who'd just come in, and my jaw nearly dropped at the sight of who stood at the door.
The man who'd entered was tall, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He was dressed in a sharp dark suit, a dark red pocket square on his chest. His hair was as dark as oil and slicked back over a face of fair skin. His eyes were a gorgeous blue, his nose was slim and strong, and his mouth was sensual and red. A wide, strong jaw and a cleft chin completed the look.
"What the hell is going on here?" he asked. "And why the hell are you behind the counter of my fucking store?"
Chapter Two
Vin
Despite how fucking pissed I was, my eyes were locked onto the girl behind the counter. She had curly, fire-red hair and deep green eyes, her face a perfect heart-shape.
"You!" I said, pointing to the girl. "Out from behind the counter! Pronto!"
Her eyes wide, the girl did as I asked. And my dick only got harder when I was able to take a look at her body. She was slim but curvy, dressed in dark jeans that showed off the curves of her legs. Up top, she wore a white blouse that strained against her tits, a black bra visible through the fabric.
I had to take a second just to get my bearings.
"What the fuck are you doing, Stan?" I asked, turning my gaze to the manager of my auto body shop.
"Sorry, Mr. Romero," he said. "She and I were just going over an estimate and she, um, came around the corner to take a look at the screen."
I could tell the answer was bullshit, and I was going to get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on.
"That pink thing out front yours?" I asked, sticking my thumb out behind my shoulder.
"Y-yes," she said. "And, um, we were just going over prices."
I shook my head, realizing that I was going to have to be dealing with two fucking liars today.
"Stan, get back on the floor," I said, shaking my head. "We'll talk later."
"Sure, boss," he said.
Stan was a good guy-talented as hell at his job and reliable. If he was lying so obviously, there was some shit going down that had him good and spooked.
Once Stan was out of the lobby, it was just me and the girl. She stared at me with that same shocked expression, her eyes wide like some kid who'd just gotten caught trying to sneak out past curfew.
"Okay," I said. "You here to get a paint job?"
She nodded quickly, her red curls bouncing up and down.
"I am," I said. "And I was just going over, um, payment plans with the owner."
I stuck my thumb into my chest.
"I'm the owner," I said. "Stan's the floor manager. You want to work out some kind of payment plan, you talk with me. But I'm getting the impression there's something more to the story than that."
She still looked guilty as hell, but she didn't say word.
I sighed.
"Come on," I said, pointing to the hallway leading to my back office. "Let's talk about this somewhere else."
I strode past her, the smell of her hair a nice contrast to the usual aromas in the air around here. She stepped quickly behind me, and once we reached the door to my office I opened it up and gestured for her to come in.
"Sit down," I said.
The office was small but stylish, just how I liked it. The desk was hand-carved oak, the chairs in front were dark brown leather, and black and white pictures of classic cars adorned the walls.
The girl slid into the seat, her ass sticking out in a very eye-catching way as she slid into the leather. I stepped around her and took a seat at the desk.
"Okay," I said, propping my feet up on the desk, my Italian leather shoes gleaming under the lights. "You want a paint job?"
"I do," she said. "But I ... I wasn't expecting it to be so much money."
"What'd Stan quote you?"
"Five thousand."
I nodded. "Sounds about right, especially since I'm getting the impression you want it done in a hurry."
She nodded and looked down.
"And what the hell was going on out there?" I asked. "You have a gun jammed in his ribs that I didn't see?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out I held up a finger.
"Tell me what you were doing. And no bullshit."
She took a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling. Damn, it was hard to stay focused on the matter at hand.
"I don't have 5k for the job. So ... I asked your manager if there was something else I could do for the work. Something ... more quid pro quo."
I raised my eyebrows. So that was it-this girl was trying to give up some ass to get a free job. A job for a job.
"And what did Stan have to say about this?"
"He said that it was too much work to trade for sex," she said, my cock twitching as she said the word "sex."
"Good boy," I said.
Old, honest Stan. I'd have to give him a little bonus for staying strong in the face of an offer like that.
"Now," I went on. "The next question on my mind is why the hell you're so desperate to get that car painted. That pink's ugly as hell, but you can't wait a day or two and not prostitute yourself for a discount?"
"It's not just a matter of not liking the color," she said. "I mean, I do hate it though."
"Then tell me," I said. "I'm the owner of this place, and if you want to work something out I'm the guy you want to be talking to."
"It's ... my boyfriend," she said, flicking her eyes back up to mine. "I'm trying to get away from him. And that car out there was a gift-in my name and everything. But the color is so noticeable that it's only a matter of time before he finds me."
I raised my eyebrows-not what I had been expecting. I'd figured she might just be a girl with loose morals, the type who'd suck a cock to save a couple thousand. Things were actually more desperate than that for her.
I was a little curious about just what was going on with this chick's boyfriend, but that didn't concern me.
She took a deep breath.
"And ... if you want to work something out with the cost," she said. "The offer still stands-the one that I made to your manager."
Now I was interested.
"Tell me exactly what you have in mind."
"I'll do whatever you want," she said. "If you can think of what ... I can do for you that'll be worth five thousand for the paint job, then I'll do it. I don't care-I just need to leave."
Five thousand was a lot of money. But the truth of the matter was that I wasn't relying on this shop for my income. It had ... other purposes. And the money I made from other ventures brought in far, far more than a few thousand on a daily basis. This chick was offering up something worth way more than a few thousand bucks.
And hey, I'd even be doing her a favor.
"How about this," I said. "I'm over in Garden City-why don't you and I head over to my place and we can discuss all this a little further?"
I was pretty damn close to taking her up on her offer. Hell, how could I say no to such a hot piece throwing herself at me for chump change?
"And what about the car?"
I looked away for a moment.
"You're serious about what you're offering?" I asked.
"As serious as it gets," she said.
"Then let's go."
