Page 68 of The Millionaire's Mechanic

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” her friend said, the sound of chewing telling her Judy was still on her lunch break. “Once Rainer spreads the chum among his rich friends, most of your early clients will be word of mouth. They’ll come in knowing only specific vehicles are up for grabs. Granted, that whole half of the warehouse is serious eye-candy, so we will likely have some looky-loos who just want a peek, but that’s to be expected.”

Georgia groaned aloud. “I didn’t even think of that. That soundsterrible.”

She couldn’t think of anything worse than having a stream of strangers come in for no other reason than to browse. She could talk cars to them, of course, but what if they decided they wanted to buy a car that wasn’t for sale? Georgia pictured the average Elite client—aggressive businessmen who enjoyed haggling with their salespeople like it was a sport.

This was why she desperately needed Judy.

“Don’t worry, not-curious George,” her friend said. “I know you’d rather get a root canal than make small talk with strangers. By the time you’re open for business, I’ll be there to run point with the money men. Maybe I’ll even snag one for myself this time.”

Snorting, Georgia rolled her eyes. “As long as I don’t have to talk to them, you can do what you want. Well, within reason. We’ll have our own reputation to cultivate and protect, just like Elite does theirs.”

Judy blew a raspberry over the line. “Woman, I will be professional with a capital P. Unless flirting seals the deal—but nothing hinky. Not that I think the spirit is going to move me in that direction. Rich guys who look like yours aren’t exactly thick on the ground.”

“True,” Georgia admitted. “Rainer is one of a kind.”

This time, Judy made a gagging noise. “All right, so tell me, did Mr. Moneybags win the argument about the pit?”

“Not yet.” It was a small point of contention; however, Rainer had been tenacious about it. “But given the layout of the space, I think I’m better off with a car lift. If we dig a pit for undercarriage work and oil changes, it will always be in that one spot.”

“Plus, you’d have to get permission from the warehouse owner,” Judy added, plastic crinkling indicating her meal was ending.

“Well, turns out Rainer owns it,” Georgia added in a small voice.

Judy laughed. “All right, that’s it. Your first-world problems have taken up my entire lunch hour. But before I go, I want to say one thing—if the reason you feel safer with a car lift is because you can sell it if this whole thing falls apart, then go for the pit.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Judy admonished. “You need to be all in. If you’re worried about the commitment a pit represents, then you’re holding back because you’re not convinced that you’re going to succeed. And you need to believe that, for both our sakes.”

“You sound like Rainer now,” Georgia grumbled.

“Great minds,” Judy said lightly. “Okay, I do have to run now. Kiss, kiss.”

Georgia hung up, pulling a face that would have made Diamond scold her.

It’s not going to stick that way, she told herself. But the reminder of her tough and cheerful foster mother did the trick. Judy was right. Georgia had to go into this believing she was going to succeed. There was no room for doubt.

And shewasgoing to get a lift, but not because it was the safer choice. At this point, she didn’t know how many cars she was going to be handling at a time, nor did she know their makes and models. She was working on a few leads, of course, but nothing was set in stone.

Georgia used to be the type of person who would second guess herself until she talked herself out of things. But she was trying to listen to her instincts now, and they were telling her she had to stay flexible. New businesses had to be nimble, and the fact was she didn’t know how to use this space efficiently yet. If she needed a pit at some point, then she’d have one dug out then.

Feeling good about her decision, she jotted a few notes down. Georgia spent another hour making lists and placing calls to suppliers before texting Rainer that she was coming home. But she didn’t leave for another fifteen minutes because she couldn’t resist crossing the warehouse to admire the double row of cars owned by her man.

It was an embarrassment of riches. In addition to the requisite Porches, Ferraris, and Bentleys, there was a McLaren Elva so sleek she got wet just looking at it. Fanning herself, she decided not to look under the hood of the Batmobile-like vehicle. She still had to drive herself home, and that would not help her stay cool and calm behind the wheel.

However, if Rainer were here, she’d pull him into one of these cars and go to town on him. Which one, though, would require careful consideration. Most of these sweet rides did not have a backseat. She’d have to check each model out, see if the front seats reclined back far enough.

Fanning her hot cheeks, she crossed back to her side of the garage, waving to the security camera over the door. Mr. Powell had several installed to safeguard Rainer’s collection.

Georgia also knew he had some trained on her side of the warehouse. For the time being, that was fine. She was going to add walls for an office somewhere down the line, next to the existing restroom. No cameras would be allowed inside the office, so she and Judy would have a space where they could drink coffee and work on their computers without feeling the eye of big brother upon them.

Realizing she had forgotten her phone, she practically skipped across the warehouse, tossing the handset in her bag before opening the door to the back lot with her hip.

Her Crown Vic was only a few steps from the door. She’d parked it there, aware the light was fading earlier and earlier each evening. There was also a nip in the air, but Georgia had always loved autumn, or what passed for it in San Diego.

She was halfway to her car when she realized it was darker than it should have been. Her parking spot should have been illuminated by the light attached to the warehouse wall. For some reason, the bulb was out. Making a mental note to have it replaced, she unlocked her car and slid into the driver’s seat.

The minute she touched the steering wheel, she realized she’d made a mistake. Freezing, she clutched the leather tightly as the sound of breathing behind her made the little hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end.

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