The photographer spoke in the background. “Perfect. Jesus, PJ, you’re so pretty like this. Fantastic. You can get up. Asa, swing your legs out, I want her on your lap and your hand on her thigh. Get that last watch on him.”

Asa barely noticed them change out the jewelry because then they had her straddle his lap, artfully arranging the hem of her dress to give a glimpse of a stocking and the strap of her garter belt.

Her pussy was right over his cock, and he had to exercise iron control not to rock himself against her.

“Sorry about this. I’ll try not to smoosh you.”

She was teasing, but he heard the thready tones in some of her words. Took in the jump of her pulse just below her ear. But goddamn, the heat of her was scalding.

The photographer took Asa’s hand and placed it where he wanted at PJ’s hip. But then he said, “Stella, get her hair around his fist.”

But before Stella could move, Asa had done it. Like he was meant to.

He locked gazes with her as Frank took pictures. Asa hadn’t wanted to kiss someone this badly since he’d gotten out of high school.

“Perfect. That’s it. Thanks to both of you.”

It took another few seconds to make his hand loosen and let go of her hair. And before anyone else could step in, Asa helped PJ off his lap and stood as well. There was no hiding how hot he was for her, so he just kept it casual as he kissed her cheek.

“You were a pro through all that,” PJ told him.

“That so?”

“Definitely. I have something for you,” she said. “Will you give me ten minutes? I need to change. It’s not going to require anything from you, so get that look off your face.”

“I’ll be here. My office is that door up there.” Asa pointed and she nodded and left.

Duke snorted. “You doing okay? Need some pain reliever?”

“Hey, fuck off. You try not getting hard when that is on your lap. Or when her hair is wrapped around your fist.”

He’d be remembering that for a while to come. Probably with his eyes closed and that same fist around his cock.

Chapter Four

When she tapped on his door a few minutes later, she’d changed into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, the lines of her face exposed by her high ponytail.

This PJ was dressed far more appropriately for a shop floor, and even without the party clothes she was beautiful.

“Hi there.” She waved, smiling.

Asa returned her smile as he stood and indicated a chair. “Come in and sit.”

Some people came into the shop and held themselves still, trying not to get anything on their clothes or set anything on fire. PJ was comfortable, easily dropping into the chair, a folder on her lap.

“I apologize for taking so long to return your calls. It’s been crazy here and we’ve had some major deadlines to meet, so everything else fell by the wayside.” He held up a soda. “Thirsty?” When she nodded, he popped the cap and handed it her way.

“Thanks. And I understand that it gets busy sometimes.” PJ placed the soda on the table to her left and then slid the folder his way. “That’s my work.”

He looked from that face down to the photos, sifting through them. He held one up. “Tell me about this.”

Her smile raised his respect for her. She was proud of doing good work. An excellent sign in someone you’re considering doing business with.

“That’s the new Colman Enterprises logo for our racing team. I hand-paint them on all the cars.”

Clever work. She had a good eye. A real understanding of the overall placement of all the elements. She’d gone with a clean design, drawing the eye on what would likely be a car covered in a whole lot of busy graphics.

Which was how Asa had noticed the logo when he and Duke had been out at the track. “I was just telling Duke we needed something like this for our team. He and I saw one of the Colman cars at a drag race in California. Really nice work.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t downplay it like some people would. She was proud of her skill.

“But we send out our custom work already. We have people who handle our accounts.”

“I know you do. But I’m better. Okay, not better than Richie Carlyle. But no one is. Give me twenty years.”

“You have a gig with Colman, don’t you? The next generation, right? Why this?”

If she’d quit or had been fired, he’d toss her some work to help her until she got something else.

“I do have a job with Colman.” She paused, clearly trying to decide something. “My family’s business is great. But it needs to move into other sectors of our industry. Yes, we sell tires. And we’re good at it. But the world is changing, and we have to change with it. I think Colman can do more than sell tires and sponsor racing teams. Innovation is how we started. I like to think it’s how we’ll continue to be relevant into the next generation.”

“And custom paint does that? Not shock absorbers? Or air filters?”

“We tried shocks for a while. It didn’t work for us.” One of her brows rose. See, I know more than you assumed I did. “We have so much to offer a significant portion of our market we’ve previously taken for granted. Neglect loses you customers.”

She had the kind of confidence people have when they’re on solid ground. She knew what she was talking about. He liked that.

“What market portion do you mean?”

“All the hot rods, custom and restoration build operations. You buy our tires already. And that’s great, thanks for your business. But we can offer you more. So I’m starting with some smaller jobs and building contacts.”