Kiss The Cook

She squeezed her eyes shut and mentally cursed the Dodge in six languages. Pulling herself together, she looked up at Mr. Mercedes. She couldn't see much through the crack in the window, but what she could see didn't scream serial killer. At least he didn't have CRAZED MURDERER tattooed on his forehead.

He was just a tired businessman trying to get home from work. Of course, he seemed a tad irritated, but who could blame him? She was a bit out-of-sorts herself. Deciding her choices were to face Mr. Mercedes or rot in the Dodge, she opened the door. He backed up to give her room to get out.

'Look,' Melanie said, standing under his umbrella, trying to keep her impatience under control, 'I'm really sorry about this, but now it seems that my car won't…'

Her voice trailed off as she got her first look at Mr. Mercedes. Good grief. Melanie stared at him and her breath deserted her body in a whoosh. Must be a trick of the light, and the sheen of the rain. No man could be that gorgeous.

He stood at least six two, and his face looked like something out of a Ralph Lauren ad. All sculpted planes, bedroomy blue eyes, and a firm, square jaw, complete with sexy five o'clock shadow.

A stark white dress shirt contrasted with his ebony hair and accentuated his broad shoulders. He'd loosened his conservative paisley tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled back, exposing tanned, muscular forearms. Dark gray dress pants hugged his lean hips. Her eyes traveled back up his long length. No doubt about it: The good-looks god had clearly favored this guy. He had to be married. She looked at his left hand. No ring. Probably gay.

'Your car won't what?' he asked, bringing her thoughts back to her present problem.

Melanie snapped her gaze back up to his face. He was staring at her, frowning, his annoyance evident. 'Start,' she replied. 'My car won't start.'

'Are you sure?'

'Positive. I don't know much about cars, but I know when one won't start. It growled at me twice, then died.'

His gaze shifted over her shoulder to look at the Dodge. 'No offense, but it looks like it was time for it to go.'

Melanie took immediate umbrage. Nobody insulted her car. She drew herself up to her full five feet eight inches. 'Hey, this car is a classic. It's in perfect condition. Almost. It might not be as fancy as your wheels, but it gets me where I've got to go… or at least it did until a few minutes ago.'

'Mind if I give it a try?' he asked. When she hesitated, he looked skyward. 'Listen, lady, I'm not about to steal your car, okay? I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm soaked from the knees down, and I'd like to get out of here sometime before midnight. Until that piece of… er… your car gets moved, I'm stuck.'

Sheesh. What a grouch. And at least he was only wet from the knees down. She was soaked through to her skin. 'Be my guest,' Melanie said, sweeping her hand in a grand gesture toward the driver's seat.

'Thanks. Here,' he said, passing her the umbrella. 'Hold this.'

He slid into the driver's seat and yelped in pain, pushing up his hips as high as the steering wheel would allow.

'Watch out,' Melanie warned. 'There're a couple of broken springs in the seat.'

He sent her a withering look. 'Thanks.'

'No problem.'

He turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. 'You said it growled at you?' he asked, looking up at her.

'Twice. Then it died.'

'Well, I'd guess that your battery is dead. Do you have jumper cables?'

Melanie shook her head. '’Fraid not.'

He muttered something under his breath that Melanie didn't catch, but based on the look on his face, she decided that was probably for the best.

'Maybe the person who's parked in front of you or behind you will show up,' she suggested, hoping it was true.

'Based on the day I've had, they've probably gone on vacation and won't be back 'til Christmas.' He took a deep breath. 'I might as well jump you-'

'Whoa, buddy. Hold it right there.' Melanie backed up several steps. 'If you touch me, I'll scream. I've got chicken legs and I'm not afraid to use them.'

He stared at her as though she was an escapee from the home for the criminally insane. 'What the hell are you talking about?'

'If you think I'll stand here and let you jump me-'

'Your car. I'll use my jumper cables to jump-start your car.'

Melanie felt her face flush with embarrassment. 'Oh. Right. I knew that.'

He muttered again and shook his head. 'I'll just pop the hood.' He slid across the seat, got one leg out of the car and stopped. Melanie stared down at him and waited. He jerked forward a few times but didn't move.

'What's wrong?' she asked.

He looked up at her with an unreadable expression. 'You said something about broken springs in the seat?'

Melanie nodded. 'Yeah. Why?'

'It seems my pants are… snagged.'

'Snagged?'

'I'm stuck.'

'What do you mean?'

He sent her a potent glare. 'Which word are you having trouble with-I'm or stuck?'

'Sheesh. There's no need to be sarcastic.'

He wiggled his butt a bit. Melanie could almost hear his teeth grinding together. 'Stuck. Caught. Trapped. I can't move.'

Melanie shook her head in sympathy. 'Bummer. But I know just how you feel. I've ruined a dozen pair of hose on those darn springs.'

He stuck his hand under himself and yelped. 'Jesus! Look at this! I'm bleeding!' He withdrew his hand and held up fingers smeared dark red. 'I'll probably get tetanus from this rattletrap.'

Melanie bent over, grabbed his hand, and peered at it in the dim interior light. Then she sniffed. 'Barbecue sauce.'

'Excuse me?'

'That isn't blood. It's barbecue sauce. A stray packet from a previous delivery order, no doubt. Here.' She reached under the seat and handed him a wad of paper napkins.

He wiped his fingers and scowled at her. 'So, my pants are ripped and stained.'

'Seems so. Hope you know a good dry cleaner.'

'Great. That's just great.'

Melanie considered pointing out to him that the barbecue sauce wasn't doing her upholstery any good, but it didn't seem like something he would appreciate hearing.

'I think I could use a little help here,' he said testily.

'Oh. Sure.' Melanie rested the umbrella between the open door and the car roof and leaned in across him, trying to see where his pants were caught. 'Sorry,' she mumbled, pushing her way in. 'Gotta crawl over you. Passenger door doesn't open.'

Chris stared down with disbelief at the woman sprawled across his lap. Her short skirt was hiked up and barely covered the essentials. Since her backside was practically in his face, he couldn't help but notice the curve of her hips. She had a great butt. At the moment, however, her long, lean legs, encased in ripped hose, stuck out the open door, dangling in the rain. He prayed none of his coworkers happened by. This definitely did not look good.

Something pinched his rear and he sucked in a breath. What the hell was she doing to his ass?

'Hey, lady,' he said, annoyed to be placed in this awkward spot, 'if you're so anxious to cop a feel, I'd rather find a more private place.'

She pushed herself up and glared at him. Her head was only inches from his and with the aid of the interior light, Chris got his first good look at her face. Her hair was half plastered to her head, half sticking up at crazy