Page 5 of Driven By Desire
“You!” Scotch on the rocks wouldn’t have gone down smoother than that voice. Feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up, he watched, more than a little stunned, as she got to her feet in one fluid movement.
Hair bundled into a messy bun that had about fifty pins stuck into it, topping off at barely 5 ft 2 inches, in her greasy overalls she was the most appealing mechanic he’d ever seen.
He bet all the men in the vicinity took a crowbar to their cars on a regular basis so they could walk in with an excuse to spend time with her.
Disgustingly dirty, shapeless overalls notwithstanding.
Getting a grip, he tuned in to what Mr. Sheridan was saying in time to hear him say, “And this is my daughter Maxine. She is our star vintage car restorer, garage manager and the light of my life.” He ended with quite a flourish as he said, “If the two of you can come to terms, she’s all yours, Mr. Mehra. ”
“Hi.” Wincing a little at her father’s unfortunate turn of phrase, Max flashed an uncertain smile. They’d parted as friends, hadn’t they? The thundercloud expression facing her suggested otherwise. Smile fading, she waited for him to speak.
“How old are you?” The incredulous words had Max stiffening.
Apparently the boor was back. The few moments of shared camaraderie from that strange, memorable night disappeared as she watched his gaze skim over her less than fashionably turned out self with barely concealed disdain.
Picking up a cloth lying on the table next to her, she wiped her hands using the moment to regain her composure.
“How does it matter?” she asked finally.
“It matters. If I’m going to pay you an obscene amount of money to fiddle around with something extremely valuable, I have a right to know if you have any freaking clue what you’re doing.”
“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be paying me an obscene amount of money, would you? May I remind you, Mr. Mehra, that you came looking for me?”
“I came looking for Sheridan’s. The brand that is known for their vintage car restorations.” Even knowing he was making things worse, Krish couldn’t seem to get his tongue to stop moving.
“I am Sheridan’s.” Flaring up, Max put her hands on her hips and squared off against him. “The branch of it that is known for its vintage car restorations is me!”
The skepticism in his gaze had her blood moving from a slow simmer to full boil.
Steam practically pouring out of her ears, she hissed, “I’m an automobile engineer from RMIT.
I’ve worked in some of the best garages in Australia on both new and vintage cars.
Not to mention the fact that I grew up tinkering with my father’s own collection of vintage cars.
I’ve done several private restoration projects and none of my clients have been displeased. ”
“Right. Well thanks but no thanks. If these skills are on par with your tree climbing ones, I’ll pass.”
“You arrogant, narrow minded, chauvinistic Neanderthal. I probably know more about your car or any other than you could hope to in your entire lifetime.” Max exploded, “Where do you get off judging me? You know nothing about me or my work to come to a decision like that.”
“My money, my decisions.”
Eyeing the lug wrench at her feet, Max wondered if clobbering him was worth the inevitable stay in prison.
“You’ll regret it.” He sounded a lot more confident than he felt as he watched her contemplate the metal contraption on the floor.
“What I regret is feeling even one moment of compassion for a creep like you.” She snapped. “I should have left you to rot in that hospital with your phobias.”
“You were the reason I was even in that damn hospital.” Incensed, Krish let go of Pooja’s hand to stab a finger at her. “I never asked you to play Florence Nightingale. By the way, compassionate people don’t jab others in their wounds.”
“I was making a point!” Hissing now, Max took a step closer putting them practically toe to toe.
“The same one you were considering earlier with the tool at your feet? Have you ever tried conversation? That’s what most people use to make a point.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat had Krish suddenly recalling his surroundings.
It took him a second to realize the entire garage had gone silent and was watching the confrontation with bated breath.
The collective gaze held a healthy mixture of censure and surprise.
He was pretty sure the censure was meant only for him.
“I suppose that means the two of you already know each other?” Her father’s quiet question had Max jolting and taking a step back.
“Barely.” Unaware that the shaky hand she drew across her face left a streak of grease across her cheekbone, she turned away from them and walked back to her tool box. All around them, murmurs picked up again and tools clanged as the other employees got back to work.
Packing her tools away carefully, she kept her head bent over her task to hide her furious, unshed tears.
“I’m sorry.” The quiet apology caused the first tear to slip through the frame of her eyelashes. Brushing it away angrily, she clicked her tool box shut and stood to face the men.
“I don’t care.”
“Okay. That’s enough.” Her father’s voice sliced through the tension that swirled around them as their gazes caught and held.
“We’re going to go home, sit down and talk about this calmly.
Whatever this is.” With that, he held his hand out for Pooja and said, “Come with me, sweetheart. I have caramel custard for dessert.”