Page 20 of The Millionaire's Mechanic

He moved his hands to stroke gently, liking how dainty she felt under his palms. “This area may not be extremely popular in the off-season, but when the snowy season officially starts, it will be full of rich people getting their rocks off by hurtling down the mountain on sticks. This means all the proper amenities are in place—including a full-time rescue chopper. If you have a bad reaction to the medication or your symptoms get worse, I can call that helicopter to come get us if we can’t make the drive down.”

“Wow,” Georgia breathed. “A helicopter. That’s intense.”

She smirked suddenly. “You really hate the snow, don’t you?”

“I hate the cold, period.” He held out his hand. “C’mon, let me show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

Her small hand fit itself into his as she followed him to the guest room next to the master suite. If she needed anything in the middle of the night, all she had to do was call out to him.

CHAPTERTEN

The local medical clinic was at one end of a low-key strip mall off the main road of the small town located down the mountain. Rainer told the staff they were a married couple, last name Smith. He even had a fake ID to present to the receptionist.

The doctor took her vitals, asked her a few questions. Her answers apparently satisfied him, because he soon clapped his hands and sent them on their way with a complimentary bottle of painkillers. The entire appointment took thirty minutes.

After agreeing to go for coffee, they took a short walk down the tiny strip that boasted itself as the downtown area before climbing into the Jeep to make the return trip. She took the fake ID from Rainer, comparing it to her state-issued driver’s license.

The counterfeit in her hands was flawless. Except for the fake name, the two were identical. “Where did you get this made?” she asked, tracing the holographic symbols with her finger.

Rainer chuckled. “Honestly, I have no idea. I have a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy with Powell. But it’s part of the whole traveling incognito thing.”

Something in his tone made her wonder. “Is this the first one he’s made for you?”

His hands turned the wheel with deft, expert movements. “No. He’s had a few others made for me, pre-kidnapping threat.”

Georgia frowned. “Why?”

“To check into hotels under assumed names mainly.”

Her stomach did a sharp nosedive to the floor of the Jeep. “Why would you need to do that?”

For women, her mind whispered. Either to avoid them—and he did have fans. Had one stalked him? Or maybe it was for another reason…like hiding an affair with a married woman.

But Rainer’s reason was far more prosaic. “We mainly use them when we go overseas for business to places where kidnapping is a threat.” He sighed. “I never thought I’d need them here at home.”

“Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He glanced over, his eyes dark.

He reached over, then patted her hand. The small gesture spread heat radiating out from her hand to the rest of her body. Suppressing a groan, she wished she could lower the heat without being obvious.

“You can keep the ID,” he said. “You know, after.”

“I don’t know what I would need one for, but thanks.” She examined the forged ID again, turning it over in her hands. “If I’d had a fake this good in high school, I could have done some serious damage,” she murmured.

“Why Georgia, I had no idea you were a bad girl.”

She wanted to imagine there was a touch of sexual suggestion in the comment, but Georgia knew that playful huskiness she heard was just in her head.

Rainer wasn’t flirting. He was simply a kind man, concerned for her well-being. It made her sad little crush on him all the more pathetic.

It didn’t help that he was also protective. Rainer hovered attentively, helping her in and out of vehicles. That close proximity kept pushing her off balance. Not that she needed to be near him to react. Her body flushed whenever Rainer entered the room. Georgia lived in a constant state of blush. She sometimes wondered how he could stand next to her and not feel the heat she generated.

But at this moment, his eyes were on the road. She could drink him in to her heart’s content. “Sadly, no. I was a giant nerd, of the gear-head variety,” she confessed. “But a fake ID could have come in handy getting beer to trade for parts.”

“Parts?” He frowned.

“Car parts.”

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