It was that passion that she wanted more of for Colman Enterprises. Her family was great at selling tires. But it wasn’t the same as it had been when her grandfather had founded the company. He’d raced, too. He’d understood the heart of his customer in a way no spreadsheet ever could.

For PJ, it was a belief system. It was a love of cars, of speed and chrome and the rumble of engines that was the heart of Colman. That would never change, even if the products and services they offered did.

PJ shook that off as she approached, hearing his voice before she got close enough to say hello.

Mmmmm. Deep and gravelly.

Dark brown eyes – and she bet that when he had his hair down it slanted over them so he’d look hot and mysterious all at once – took her in.

His gaze locked with hers and a smile marked a mouth so carnal she probably would have to light a candle in penance for her very naughty thoughts.

She smiled back and the moment between them heated and slowed. He was holy shit hot damn and wow sexy. One of his brows rose. Confident and not a small bit cocky.

He was older. Probably late thirties, early forties. Which was absolutely okay with her. Didn’t matter though, because all it took was a close-up view of this male to know he was totally out of her league. He’d rock her world. Maybe set it on fire.

Just having his full attention left her a little shaky. What would sex with him be like? Wrong. Wrong thing to start to wonder right then. Her cheeks heated and she hoped it was dark enough that he missed her blush.

And yet there she continued to stand, finally breaking that moment and turning to Duke. Also ridiculously hot.

“PJ Colman, how are you?” Duke showed perfect white teeth. The dimple to the left of his mouth made PJ bet it tasted sweet.

“I’m doing all right. You?”

“As well as you can be at one of these things.”

“Asa Barrons,” Manly Man said as he held out a hand.

A big hand that engulfed hers as he shook it.

Duke grinned, making him look like a charming wayward boy. No one could stay mad at that face, she bet. “Sorry about that. I figured you already knew PJ. Asa, this is PJ Colman. PJ, this is Asa; he co-owns Twisted Steel with me.”

“Colman, as in Colman Enterprises?” Asa let go of her hand slowly and she was proud she didn’t gulp audibly.

“Yes.” She looked back over her shoulder toward the Camaro and then back to Asa and Duke. “That’s one seriously delicious machine.”

Asa used that moment to take her in, from the pointed toes of her black heels, up shapely legs, over mouthwatering curves at her hips, to one of the finest racks he’d ever beheld.

The neckline of the dark blue dress she wore – a dress that lovingly caressed her body and yet stayed pretty and feminine – showed off her collarbone and the uppermost curves of her breasts.

And she had good taste. That Camaro was a project they’d finished just a few weeks before. The owner was taking it home to Oregon the following day, so Asa and Duke figured it’d be a good idea to show it off while they could.

PJ stepped to the side to allow a server to pass with a tray of something, and without thinking Asa reached out to take her elbow to steady her. Her skin was warm and soft, and with her so close it wasn’t a struggle to breathe her in. Spice and heady flowers.

“Thanks,” he said, referring to her compliment about the car. “I’ll be a little sad to see it go.”

“We argued about the racing stripe.” Duke grinned.

“What do you think about the racing stripe?” Asa asked her.

He’d liked her smile, but the smirk she gave in response to his question made his cock hard. Christ.

She walked to the car and he followed, barely conscious of anything but the metronome switch of her hips and the long braided rope of her hair hanging to her waist. Purple hair. Light at the top and then darker at the ends.

“I think it’s always more about the car.” Her voice dropped so that only he could hear. “In general I like racing stripes well enough. My car has them. Though my car is purple, so it’s not all stock.”

“That so?” He wanted to brush an errant tendril of her hair away from her face, but he resisted.

This was a work event. She was the granddaughter of one of the most influential men in racing, and she couldn’t have been any more than twenty-five years old. All of that should have been an ice-cold slap of reality.

But his cock didn’t give a shit. His cock agreed with his brain that her freckles were fucking hot and wanted to see if she had them all over. And she liked cars. He could tell by the way she looked at his Camaro. Her gaze seemed to caress the curves and lines.

A woman who liked cars on the same level he did was hot. Even if she was totally off the menu.

“Purple?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Oh yes, yes she could.

“Go on ahead.” He tried to keep the grin off his face.

“I’m kind of a rebel.”

He laughed. “That so? I figured, given your hair, that you just liked purple a lot.”

“Maybe that too. As for this particular car? The racing stripes are exactly what it needed.”

“Duke likes racing stripes on American muscle. The client is a friend of his.”

“The paint is fantastic. Perfect work.” She walked around, peering closely here and there. “No skimping or cut corners.”

“Were you going to judge me harshly if there had been?”