"Nat, I'm sorry. I checked the oil and the tire pressure. I meant to make sure the insurance hadn't lapsed, but I forgot. Fuck."
She closed her eyes, the knuckles that gripped the phone turning white. "What do I do?" she asked with a quaver of uncertainty.
"The best you can, Natalie. Who'd you hit? What kind of car?"
"I don't know. It looks brand new, really pretty." Her eyes cut to the black car and then to the man standing between it and her. "His name is Marco D-Donati."
"Donati? Like the bank, Donati?" her cousin asked.
"I have no idea."
"Look, I gotta go. I hate like hell to abandon you like this. Tell him it's my car and I'll make it good. Tell him you'll make it good, as well. Don't make matters worse by arguing or trying to deny it's your fault--as long as you know for a fact that it's your fault?"
"I hit him from behind," she said in a resigned tone of voice.
"Right. Have it towed to my driveway. Don't drive it anymore 'til I can get it fixed and get insurance on it."
"Okay, thanks. Be safe."
"Yeah, you too."
Natalie ended the call and slowly moved toward Marco Donati, handing the phone back to him but not meeting his eyes, while an intense feeling of loneliness hit her. She knew Justin had to leave, he had to make a living. But now it left only Natalie and Justin's girlfriend, who hated Natalie because she was jealous of her--even though Natalie and Justin were cousins. The situation at Justin's house was going to go from bad to worse now that he was flying out.
She missed her mom and didn't like Houston much so far at all.
Marco Donati took the phone and slid it into his pocket. "No insurance?" he asked in a coldly flat voice.
She shook her head and tried to hold his eyes, fighting the guilt and mortification that slid down her spine. "I'm sorry. I'll pay you somehow."
Crossing his arms over his chest, his lips curled into a sneer and his eyes turned cold and flat. "No you won't. Let's at least be honest with each other about that."
"I will. I really will."
"You have any idea how much that car cost and how much damage you did to it?"
Her eyes slid away from his and with a feeling of a rock being lodged under her breastbone, Natalie took a better look at his vehicle. She had no idea about a car like that, but suddenly, her bad situation was getting much, much worse. She glanced back at him and licked her lips. "Um, more than a Corvette?" she whispered.
"Um--yeah," he snapped back sarcastically, irritation coloring his voice.
Natalie closed her eyes briefly and then opened them again. She was beginning to get a stress headache. Slipping her sunglasses to the top of her head, she took a couple of seconds to massage her temples. Knowing she couldn't put it off any longer, she raised her eyes to his. "Can we work something out?"
Chapter Two
Marco watched as if in slow motion the trembling fingers that raised her sunglasses to the top of her head. He froze and waited for her to lift her face to his, sudden impatience grabbing him and holding him in its grip. When he finally saw her eyes, his guts clenched in automatic response.
A wave of lust hit him hard, and if he'd believed in a place called Hell, then there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that that's where he'd end up. His gut response to her innocent question, combined with the annihilating beauty of her eyes, was that bad. As he looked her over, standing still and incredibly tiny in front of him in frayed jeans and tennis shoes, the beauty of her face surging into sudden prominence, two things hit him simultaneously. He couldn't remember ever having wanted a woman so wildly inappropriate, this hard and this fast, and it suddenly occurred to him that her driver's license hadn't told the truth. "You're not five-three."
She blinked up at him. "Yes, I am."
"Bullshit." She was smaller than that, and his body began screaming at him even more loudly, begging his brain to let him at her. It was as if there were two parts of his person, diametrically opposed and in a face-off. His guts and his cock wanted her--wanted her badly--but his brain was fighting back. And it was a toss-up as to which part was in control.
Bristling indignation filled her as she arched her back and lifted her shoulders in determination. "My driver's license says I'm five-three--so I'm five-three."
Marco puffed out a laugh at her temerity, while steeling his insides against the almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch the small swell of her breasts. "So you lied to the Department of Public Safety. And now I'm supposed to believe you when you say you're going to make this good?" he questioned somewhat threateningly.
"I'll make it good, I swear!"
Heat slammed his guts as she repeated his words and unknowingly turned them into an accidental innuendo. He couldn't stop himself; he had to test her. "You even know how to make it good?"
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "Pay--pay you back," she stuttered.
Marco fought his arousal as he studied her. She had understood his innuendo, and chose to ignore it. It said a few things about her. It said she wasn't looking to work off the debt on her back, so to speak, and it meant that if she reacted as she had at twenty-four-years old, she probably wasn't overly experienced.
He didn't know whether he was pleased or disappointed. There was a woman he slept with occasionally, and Tanya liked to think of herself as his girlfriend, although he didn't see her as such--not even close. She'd been wearing on his nerves lately, becoming more and more demanding, and he knew that before too much longer she was going to slide past her expiration date. In fact, she was already there. He didn't think getting rid of her would be easy; she'd probably go kicking and screaming. But she didn't live with him, no woman ever had, and when he was ready, it wouldn't take long to expel her completely from his life.
He didn't imagine for even a minute that this girl would have what it would take to hold his attention for long--no woman ever had and he didn't think she'd be an exception. She sure as shit wouldn't fit into his world, his--casual and depraved world--and he suddenly knew that he wasn't ruthless enough to expose her to it--in fact, he was feeling a roiling anger in his gut at the thought of her obvious innocence being spoiled. But there was something very compelling about her, something that was electrifying his insides, something that wouldn't allow him to let her drive off and leave. He could afford to, certainly. He didn't need her money or her insurance; getting his car repaired would be a nuisance at most. But he didn't want to let her off the hook. Call him misguided or even a bit evil, but there was something about her and the raging erection she had induced that was making him act out of the ordinary and even though he recognized it, he didn't try to fight against it.