Page 6 of The Millionaire's Mechanic

She was small, but she looked lithe and strong, the bit of forearm visible beneath the sleeves of her overalls noticeably muscled. That kind of definition only came with hard work.

Georgia’s expression eased, softening. He suspected most people didn’t give her work the recognition it deserved.

“Yes, it’s all me, a project I’m doing on my own time. My dad inherited the car from his father, but it never ran, so I’m restoring it for him—it was supposed to be a retirement gift.”

“Supposed to be?”

Her expression fell before her shoulders straightened determinedly. “Dad’s postponing retirement. But that just means I have to get my butt in gear to have it ready for Christmas.”

At the word ‘butt,’ the Pavlovian lizard part of Rainer’s brain took over and he glanced at the fine derriere he’d clocked when she’d risen from her chair. Snapping his eyes back up at her face, he hoped she hadn’t noticed. But something about this woman was pushing all his buttons, turning him into the chauvinist he used to call out his friends for being.

Trying to save himself, he decided to indulge his curiosity. “Why is he postponing retirement?”

His question seemed to catch her off guard. Her lips parted and she hesitated, but then shrugged. “He just is.”

Money problems, his brain supplied. Rainer gave the snapshot back with a winsome smile. “In that case, are you sure your dad can’t be talked into selling? I can make it worth your while.”

For a moment, his instinct said he had her. There was a flicker, the tiniest bit of hesitation, before she shook her head. “It’s a gift for my dad,” she repeated, a trace of resigned sadness in her tone.

Rainer assumed she meant the sad older man in the photo. There was zero resemblance to the luminous girl in front of him. But he didn’t ask if she’d been adopted. That would have been rude.

The mechanic began to edge around him, but she stopped. “Ididhear those men plotting to kidnap you—I’m not making it up.”

“I appreciate the heads-up, I do,” he said, his head tilting to the left. “Despite the sizable charitable donations that get me written up in magazines like the one you’re holding, I remain an extraordinarily rich man. It makes me a target for a lot of crackpots and would-be criminals. But very few people act on their harebrained schemes. For the foolish who do, I have Powell.”

On cue, the sleek shorter man appeared on his right. Georgia’s eyes widened, telling Rainer that she hadn’t heard Powell approach. His head of security moved like an assassin.

“All right, then,” she said, her head snapping to Powell and back again. Her cheeks deepened in a lovely blush. “Um, uh, good luck.”

She slipped around him, then was out the door as if her shoes were on fire.

Rainer watched her go. Yes, he’d been right about the ass.A ripe peach.

Sighing, he turned to Powell. “Any chance that the threat is real?”

“Slim to none, but we’ll look into it.”

Nodding, Rainer left, deciding to order lunch in. As pleasant a diversion as Georgia had been, he still had quite a bit of work to do.

* * *

Seventeen minutes after the official end of her lunch break, Georgia ran into the garage bay.

“Damn it,” she muttered, checking the time on the dash.

She opened her mouth, ready with the excuse she’d formulated on the fast drive back. But Mitchell didn’t give her a chance to use it.

Without glancing up from the Bentley engine, he pointed at her. “Docked an hour.”

“But—”

Straightening, he twisted to give her a flat look, that supercilious single eyebrow raised. “Would you rather get a write-up for your file?” he asked, wiping his hands on a rag.

Flushing, Georgia took a deep breath so she wouldn’t swear at him. Promoted to the supervisor position when Mack died, Mitch enjoyed flexing his power over her. He wasn’t above giving her a write-up either. As far as he was concerned, Georgia had gotten away with murder when Mack was in charge just because he’d made sure everyone had split their duties, good and bad, evenly.

Mitch gave Judy a lot of shit, too, but the receptionist didn’t work under him. Neither did Samantha, but Mitch wasn’t stupid enough to mess with one of Elite’s biggest moneymakers. Georgia was the only female who had the unfortunate privilege of answering to him.

“I had to run an errand for my dad,” she said, eyes on the ground.

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