His Sugar Baby(43)

The mechanic nodded. “Good.” He hesitated as he finally took in her stiff expression. An innate honesty compelled him to speak. “Ma’am, if you really want my advice, you’d be better off finding another car. Even if I do everything on that estimate, you’re going to keep having problems with this one. The engine is flat worn out. It really needs to be rebuilt, and that would cost you a pretty penny.”

It just keeps getting better and better.

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind,” Cathy said dully.

“No problem.” His duty discharged, the mechanic nodded. “Glad to be of help.” Whistling tunelessly, he ambled back to the garage bays.

Cathy blinked back tears, defeat tearing at her insides. She had done the prudent thing, trading in her previous vehicle and ridding herself of its monthly payment, and bought an older model. But ultimately, it had proven an exercise in futility. The older car had betrayed her.

She was now faced with having no vehicle at all, no money to replace it, and with credit too bad to get a decent loan. She would have no reliable way to get back and forth to work or to the hospital. Of course, she had friends and coworkers who would offer to chauffeur her, but it would not be fair or practical to expect them to provide transportation for her indefinitely. They would grow to resent the necessity, and there would be inevitable schedule conflicts.

It was an impossible situation, and she couldn’t visualize a solution. With her despairing thoughts, her emotions tanked. It was so damn hard to be positive when she kept getting slapped down. Her ex-husband had just walked away and gotten on with his life. A flicker of deep-seated rage took hold of her. She burned with the unfairness of it all. What had she, or Chloe, done to deserve the hell that had invaded their lives?

A little over an hour later, Michael drove up in a silver Lexus. Cathy straightened, taking note that the dealer’s tags were still on it. A new Lexus! She felt an unreasonable surge of resentment ignite toward him. There was just too much in her life that wasn’t fair, she thought bitterly.

Cathy walked out of the air-conditioned waiting room to meet him. The late fall heat struck her, and the humidity made her green knit T-shirt stick to her body. The physical discomfort was just one more mark against a really bad day.

Michael’s dark aviators covered his eyes, hiding the expression in his eyes. But she could see that the line of his jaw was tense. Oh, great! Just great! He’s still sporting an attitude!

He didn’t even greet her before saying shortly, “Are you done here?”

“Yes. I’ve gotten the estimate,” she said, just as shortly. “The car’s dead.”





Through the silvered lens of his aviators, Michael studied the storminess of Winter’s expression. She was obviously ticked off. He was uncomfortably aware that he had not been particularly sympathetic when he had talked with her over the phone. The breakdown of her car had been out of her control. She couldn’t be blamed for it. She had deserved better than the rough edges of his impatience, he thought, but he wasn’t about to admit his fault. Maybe her mood would change when he offered a solution to her present predicament.

“Then we’re out of here.” He handed the Lexus keys to her. She looked at him blankly, then with a gathering frown of suspicion. “Sometimes I’ll want you to drive.” Michael took her elbow and steered her to the driver’s side. He opened the door and gestured for her to get in. Winter hesitated before ducking and sliding onto the leather seat. He watched her long, slim legs, wrapped in tight denim, disappear inside, and then he shut the door.

As Michael rounded the front of the shiny vehicle, he heard someone call out from the garage. “Have a good day, Ms. Somerset!” Michael acknowledged the mechanic with a wave. He opened the passenger door and got into the vehicle, glancing across at Winter as he shut the door. She was occupied with adjusting the seat and the mirrors. All of the windows were up because the air was running. It was obvious that she had not heard the mechanic.

A faint smile curled his lips. His own irritation lightened. A few weeks before, he had become aware of a surprising, deepening interest to know more about the woman who shared his bed. He had naturally refrained from questioning her, and not just because it would have run counter to his own rules. He was all too aware that she would not have welcomed his curiosity. Winter had made plain that she was fine with his original stipulation that they not exchange information about their personal lives. However, that was not good enough for him anymore.

Now he knew a little more than he did yesterday. He knew her full name. Winter Somerset. His smile flickered again with his satisfaction. He pulled the seat belt across his chest and snapped it home.

Done with making adjustments to the car, Winter slid on her sunglasses. “Where do you want to go?”


Michael quirked his brow. His voice very dry, he said, “The house.”





Chapter Fourteen



Without a word, Cathy put the vehicle in gear and eased it onto the street. The drive to his home would be short. She had been more than halfway to Michael’s place when her car died.

As they left the business district behind, the traffic was lighter. She could not help noticing how well the Lexus handled and responded to her lightest touch. Damn it. It drives like a dream! She compared the Lexus to her own debilitated vehicle, and despondency trickled through her again. The pleasant scent of new leather filled her nostrils. The seat fit her body, cradling her frame in comfort. There was hardly any sound to disturb the smooth ride. Not even the air conditioning marred the near-silence.