Читать книгу The Last Single Garrett - Brenda Harlen, Brenda Harlen - Страница 8

Chapter One

Tristyn Garrett didn’t get paid to keep tabs on Josh Slater.

Though her responsibilities at Garrett/Slater Racing seemed ever growing and changing, that wasn’t one of them. So when Dave Barkov came into the building for his nine-thirty meeting with her too-sexy-for-his-own-good boss, she buzzed Josh’s office. As a co-owner of the race team, Josh didn’t always keep regular hours, but he was always there when he needed to be.

So why wasn’t he there now?

“Excuse me for a minute,” she said to Mr. Barkov, and made her way down the hall to Josh’s office. The door was open, but the lights were off and the chair behind his desk was empty. His computer, which was always on, was flashing a reminder of the meeting with Dave Barkov, which Josh wasn’t there to see.

Across the hall, her cousin’s office was also empty, but she knew that Daniel was at the wind tunnel with Ren D’Alesio and his crew chief. She had received no communication from Josh to explain his absence.

Ordinarily she wouldn’t worry about where he was, what he was doing or even who he was with, but Mr. Barkov was a potential new sponsor and this tour of the facilities in Charisma, North Carolina, had been set up weeks ago. She knew because she’d set it up, after ensuring that the date and time worked for Josh. Right now, she was silently cursing the fact that she worked for him.

Their relationship was a mostly, if not strictly, professional one. Josh had been friends with her cousin Daniel for as long as she could remember, and over the past several years, he’d become a regular fixture at family events. He was, in many ways, like another cousin to her, except that she got along really well with all her cousins and her relationship with Josh wasn’t always so amicable.

At the shop, they worked well together because each was focused on the performance of their respective duties. But away from GSR, there was often an uncomfortable...friction...between them.

She blamed Josh for that friction. He seemed to enjoy saying and doing things for the sole purpose of riling her, and even aware of that fact, she couldn’t always control her reactions. Her sisters liked to tease that it was sexual tension and suggested that Tristyn could alleviate the problem by getting naked with Josh, but that wasn’t going to happen—no way, no how, not ever.

But his failure to show up for a scheduled meeting with a new sponsor was completely out of character. Because as much as she occasionally accused him of being immature and unreliable, when it came to the business aspects of GSR, he was the poster boy for responsibility. Of course, he’d sunk a large portion of his own money—courtesy of his interest in Slater Industries, the company owned and operated by his parents—into the business and had convinced her cousin to do the same.

While Mr. Barkov waited, Tristyn called Josh’s cell phone. She also sent a text message and an email, but he didn’t respond to any of her attempts at communication. So she put a smile on her face and apologized to the sponsor, explaining that both the team’s owners were tied up in a meeting elsewhere and offering to either reschedule or give him the promised tour of the facilities herself.

Mr. Barkov opted for the tour.

Two hours later, when he had finally gone and Daniel had returned from his meeting, she gave a perfunctory knock on her cousin’s open door before she stepped through it and into his office. “Where the hell is he?”

Daniel looked up from his computer screen, his dark brows drawing together. “Who?”

She rolled her eyes. “The Slater half of Garrett/Slater Racing.”

“I haven’t seen him yet this morning,” Daniel admitted.

“Because he’s AWOL,” Tristyn said, not even trying to hide her irritation.

“A few hours late is hardly AWOL,” he chided.

“It’s not a few hours,” she argued. “Nobody has heard a single word from him since he left the track Saturday afternoon.”

“He said something about having to deal with a family crisis,” her cousin told her.

Concern immediately edged aside her irritation. “What kind of family crisis?”

Daniel shrugged. “I didn’t ask. I figured that came under the heading of ‘personal’ business, which means it’s none of mine—and none of yours, either.”

Tristyn considered that for a minute before nodding in acknowledgment of the point. “Okay—it’s none of my business,” she agreed. “But I think you should call him.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve tried calling, texting and emailing, with no response, so I’m wondering if there’s a reason that he’s ignoring me.”

Her cousin’s brows winged up. “Is there?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” she said. “But he’s never ignored my communications or been out of touch for so long before.”

Daniel hit the speakerphone button, then punched in his friend’s number. The call went immediately to voice mail—as each of hers had done.

You’ve reached Josh Slater. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.

The beep sounded, then Daniel began to speak. “Hey, Josh. Give me a call when you get this message. I’ve got Tris in my office with a worried look on her face because she can’t get in touch with you.”

“I’m only worried that I’ll have to cover for him when Dave Barkov shows up to meet the crew and tour the facilities,” she interjected. “Oh, wait—I already did.”

Daniel disconnected the call and slid her a look. “And you wonder why he might be ignoring you,” he noted drily.

“He blew off a meeting with a potential sponsor,” she said again.

“He’ll check in soon,” her cousin assured her, but she suspected he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

“Let me know when he does,” she suggested.

Tristyn went back to her desk. As the administrative assistant and head of PR for the team, she had more than enough work to keep herself busy for the rest of the day. By three o’clock, when Josh hadn’t checked in with her or returned Daniel’s call, she picked up her purse and stopped by her cousin’s office again.

“I’m going to detour past his place on my way home,” she said.

Daniel glanced at his watch, frowned. “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”

Maybe she was a little concerned, because it wasn’t like Josh to be out of touch. The man practically lived with his phone in his hand, answering calls when they came in and responding to emails and text messages right away. But she wasn’t going to admit her concern to her cousin.

“I’m annoyed,” she said, because that was true, too. “I had to work through my lunch today to make up for the time I spent with your sponsor because Josh was a no-show.”

“I’m sure Dave Barkov was more grateful than annoyed,” her cousin said. “After all, you’re a lot prettier than Josh is.”

She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As she drove toward Josh’s condo, she thought about her cousin’s parting remark. While it was true that no one would ever apply the “pretty” label to Josh Slater, there were several others that came to mind. At six feet two inches, with dark blond hair, smoky gray eyes and a mouth that promised all kinds of wicked pleasure, he was tempting. Tantalizing. Hot.

Oh, yes, he was very definitely hot.

And she’d already been burned.

* * *

Josh Slater stared at the disaster zone that used to be his kitchen and tried to decide if he should wade into the mess or call a hazmat team. In addition to the pile of dishes from breakfast and lunch, there was a long drip of dried pancake batter on the oven door, toast crumbs on the counter, Cheerios on the floor and a pot with the congealed remnants of mac and cheese stuck to the bottom. He waded into the mess and had just filled the sink with soapy water when a knock sounded at the door.

He wasn’t expecting any more visitors—he’d already had more than he’d anticipated this weekend and wasn’t eager to add to the number. He decided to ignore the summons and pretend he wasn’t home.

The knock sounded again, louder and more insistent this time. He frowned, thinking that if a knock could exhibit personality traits, this one was brisk and impatient, very much like...Tristyn Garrett.

Because she was on his mind, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear her voice come through the door. “If you’re in there, Josh, you better open this door before I call 911 and have the fire department break it down.”

Since she didn’t usually issue idle threats, he wiped his hands on a towel and opened the door. “What are you doing here, Tristyn?”

“Nice greeting.” Her deep green eyes narrowed as they skimmed over him, silently assessing. “You look like hell.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, felt the rasp of stubble on his jaw. Apparently he’d forgotten to shave this morning. But at least he’d showered. He was pretty sure he’d showered.

Tristyn, by contrast, looked stunning. With her slender build, deep green eyes and perfectly shaped mouth, she could easily have made a fortune in front of a camera. Of course, as a Garrett, she was already heir to a fortune. Still, she worked as hard as anyone else at GSR, often exceeding even his expectations—as she’d done again by showing up at his door.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he finally responded to her comment.

He saw the cool derision in her eyes fade. “Are you sick?” She took a step forward and lifted her hand as if to check his temperature.

He stepped back, forcing her to drop her hand. Since she’d been enticed by her cousin Daniel to work for Garrett/Slater Racing two years earlier, he’d been forced to acknowledge that his best friend’s little cousin was all grown up. But she was still his best friend’s cousin, which meant that even if she looked like every man’s fantasy, she was off-limits to him.

That knowledge hadn’t stopped him from dreaming of her hands on him—frequent and explicit dreams. But he didn’t want her touching him because she felt sorry for him. It was much better if they both respected the walls she’d built between them.

“No, I’m not sick,” he told her. “I’m just exhausted from trying to keep up with three very demanding females.”

As he’d expected, the casual—and yes, deliberately provocative—words erased any hint of sympathy from her pretty green eyes. Now they glittered like emeralds—hard and sharp. “Seriously? You blew off a scheduled meeting with a sponsor because you’re recovering from a weekend orgy?”

Before he could respond, a tiny voice piped up to ask, “Whatsa orgy?”

Ah, hell.

Josh cringed at the sound of the adult word coming out of the little girl’s mouth as he turned to face his five-year-old niece. “I thought you were watching a movie in the bedroom,” he said.

Emily shook her head. “I don’t like the movie—it’s scary.”

“It’s a princess movie,” he pointed out. “How scary can it be?” Although he’d never seen it himself, he’d found it in one of the half dozen suitcases his sister had dumped in his foyer along with her three daughters, so he’d assumed it was suitable for the kids.

“It’s scary,” she insisted.

“This is my niece Emily,” Josh said. “Emily, this is Tristyn.”

“Hi,” the little girl said shyly.

Tristyn crouched down so that she was at eye level with the little girl—inadvertently providing him with a perfect view down the open vee of her blouse. And the view was perfect: sweetly rounded curves peeking over the edge of delicate white lace. He didn’t look away until the lower part of his anatomy began to stir with appreciation.

“What movie are you watching?” Tristyn asked.

“The Princess and the Frog.”

“Are you at the part where the prince goes to see the witch doctor?” she asked.

Emily nodded solemnly, her big blue eyes wide and worried.

“That is a scary part,” Tristyn admitted. “But I watched the movie just a couple of weeks ago with my niece, so I can tell you that the scary part will be over soon, then there are some funny parts and the movie has a happy ending.”

Emily chewed on her lower lip. “For real?”

“For real,” Tristyn promised.

“You wanna watch the movie?” the little girl asked.

“I would love to watch the movie,” she said. “But I need to talk to your uncle for a little bit first, okay?”

“Okay,” Emily agreed, and reluctantly headed back to the bedroom where the “scary” movie was playing.

Tristyn stood up again, tugging down the hem of the short skirt that had ridden up her thighs. She had spectacular legs to go with her tempting feminine curves—an almost irresistible package.

“Is she one of the females who kept you up all night?” she asked him now.

“Yeah,” he admitted, with obvious reluctance. “Emily is my sister’s middle daughter. She has two sisters, Charlotte, who is a couple years older, and Hanna, who is younger.”

Tristyn curled her hand into a fist and punched him in the arm. She put some force behind the motion, but her effort glanced off his biceps.

He lifted a brow. “What was that for?”

“Because you’re an idiot.” She opened her hand, flexed her fingers. “Jeez—your arm is as hard as your head.”

“You’ve often accused me of being an idiot,” he pointed out, ignoring her latter comment. “But it’s never driven you to violence before.”

She just shook her head. “What is wrong with you that you would rather let me believe you spent the weekend participating in an orgy than admit you were taking care of your sister’s kids?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to disillusion you.”

“Into thinking that you had a heart in addition to your hormones?”

He shrugged. “We both know that our relationship is...safer—” he decided “—when you don’t have any illusions about me being a nice guy.”

“Don’t worry—discovering that you spent a weekend with your nieces isn’t going to change my opinion of you.”

“Good to know,” he said.

“Although I am curious about why they’re here—and where your sister is.”

“Long story.”

“And why haven’t you been answering your phone?” she asked.

“Because I can’t find it,” he admitted.

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head. “I remember answering a text message when I was scooping up ice cream for the girls last night, but I haven’t seen it since then.”

“I assume you’ve looked in the kitchen?”

He hesitated, just a fraction of a second. “Yeah.”

“That didn’t sound very convincing.”

“The kitchen is a bit of a mess right now,” he admitted. “But I’m hoping the phone will turn up as I clear things away.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” she offered, already moving toward the kitchen.

Josh followed, enjoying the sexy sway of her hips—and nearly ran right into the back of her when she halted abruptly in the doorway.

She slowly turned to face him. “This is a bit of a mess?”

“I didn’t have a chance to clear away breakfast dishes before it was time for lunch,” he admitted.

“But you have a dishwasher,” she pointed out.

“Still filled with clean dishes from yesterday.”

She shook her head despairingly. “I’ll put those away while you get the rest of this chaos organized.”

He should have refused her offer of help, but the truth was, he was grateful. He was also appreciative of the fact that every time she bent forward, he could see down her top. Because Tristyn Garrett might be a pain in his ass a lot of the time, but she had a body that seemed to have been designed to fuel male fantasies.

She removed the cutlery basket and set it on the counter, then paused. He gestured to the drawer on the other side of the dishwasher, assuming that she didn’t know where to put the clean forks and knives. But she made no move to open it.

“Um...Josh.”

He immediately shifted his gaze from the nicely rounded curve of her butt to her face, hoping like hell she hadn’t seen him looking where he had no business looking. “What?”

She lifted something out of the basket and held it up. “I found your phone.”