Run to Love (Triple R Book 1) (5 page)

“Ed! He’s not a gigolo! He’s my personal trainer.”

“Well, he can personally train me any day.” His words dripped with sensuality. Edwyn was always so straightlaced, he never acted like this. Frankly, I liked it.

“Jeez, Ed!” I returned with fake disgust and a genuine smile.

We both giggled behind our sketching pads.

“Okay, I can do this.” I psyched myself up. “If he can be a professional model, I can act like a professional artist.”
Or at the very least I’ll try.

I leaned slightly to take in the amazing male at the front of the room, hoping my placement at the back hid me from his sightlines. I put lead to paper, and in moments, I was sketching like a crazy woman, the graphite pencils flying like they were possessed. The vision of Jude’s sinewy and flawless body scorched into my brain. Any fantasy I could’ve concocted about his physique was woefully misguided. He was a hundred times better in real life.
One thousand times better
.

Every muscle deserved flawless representation on the paper, and his man parts—although not explicitly porn-sized—complemented him in proportion. They were a specimen of male I’d never seen before, not that I’d seen a wide variety. Three. That was the breadth of my knowledge. Jude was all man down there, trimmed man, covered in a fine mesh of curly, sable brown hair, and his testicles dropped like two weighted golf balls. His penis curved perfectly, the pink tissue caressing against his sack like it was in the most comfortable place ever.

Before the hour of class ended, I’d downed three bottles of water because the tense and anxiety-riddled situation had me sweating like a high school slut at confessional.

Edwyn leaned over. “You okay, gorgeous?”

“Just overwhelmed.”

“I can relate.” Edwyn examined my sketch. “Holy crap, Presley, that’s amazing!”

I scrutinized the drawing and swallowed hard while a bead of sweat trickled down my temple. It was my best work. What I’d created was almost a line for line, shape for shape, curve for curve exact replica of the original human work of art.

“Thanks.”

I flipped the sketchpad to cover my efforts and packed my supplies, hoping to hightail out of the room through the back door and straight to the bathroom and avoid talking to the man whose mental image I’d masturbated to last night. The thought mortified me to the molecular level. In my efforts to pack up, I became oblivious to everything else happening around me, until a deep voice weakened my knees.

“Hi, Presley.”

Squatting at my art bag, I mumbled a choice curse word and stood. “Hello, Jude.”

“Um, so you’re an artist?” He adjusted his black robe and retied the long sash.

“Yeah, as a hobby. Nothing da Vinci or Matisse would be proud of, that’s for sure.” I cringed as my bladder spasmed.

His brow furrowed. “Well, just wanted to say hello. I’ll see you on Friday at five a.m., bright and early.”

“I’ll be there. Have a good night, Jude.”

“Thanks. Bye, Presley.”

The last smile he flashed qualified as heavenly and a memory that would probably keep me up tonight. My legs failed to move past the doorway, so I waited for him to brush ahead of me before I turned to run to the women’s bathroom.

****

I didn’t mind the posing, but I didn’t realize Presley would be in the class. Watching her penetrating green eyes flash from behind that white sketchpad, teasing me every time I glanced her way, was enough to get the heavy-hanging weight lifter to start pumping up from his inert position. By sheer will alone, I kept him lifeless. I brought every penis-deflating baseball-like meditation to the forefront of my thoughts, instead of the wicked dreams I’d had for the last two nights about both normal and depraved sexual positions I wanted to see Presley contorted in, watching her coming undone under me and with me. The visions are killing me … slowly.

I collected my bag and walked out of the bathroom, not remembering which way the front door was. Before I had time to react to the wrong choice of direction, my body slammed into someone. I recognized a female gasp and the clatter of a bag, purse, and paper hitting the tile floor of the hallway.

“Shit!” I grabbed for the person, hoping to at least save her from following her belongings to the floor.

As I regained composure, I realized I was body to body with the apparition of my dreams. One hand grasped Presley’s toned upper arm and the other slid around her waist, keeping our bodies pressed firmly to one another. Her slightly upturned nose rested against the bare opening in my black V-neck t-shirt.

I swear she just drew in a long breath … of me.

“Sorry.” I glanced down to the top of her head. Moving my hand from her arm, I brushed a piece of hair that chaotically sprawled across her forehead. She shivered at my touch. I rested the hand behind her neck and moved the other hand up her toned back.

Presley’s face came up. Our gazes met, and her green orbs softened as her mouth opened in a soft
O
shape. I held her snugly against me for a few more seconds until I grasped the disturbing fact that the weight lifter had started pumping iron. Dropping my hands, I stepped back to keep her from being accosted by the part of me that found an incredibly awkward time to exercise his repressed will through my shorts.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry, Presley.”

I squatted to pick up the items that were scattered at our feet, stopping when I came to the flipped-open sketchpad. I couldn’t help but stare at the drawing. It was a photograph-perfect illustration of me.

“This is incredible, Presley.” Looking up from my crouching position, I added, “I’d love to have a copy.”

She dropped down to my level with a soft cotton-candy pink blush tinting her cheeks.  She closed the sketchpad. “Thanks, Jude. I’ll … I’ll have to think about it. I normally don’t share my artwork with anyone. Sorry.”

I handed over her purse and our hands collided, her delicate fingers resting against my larger ones. Our eyes connected again, and I couldn’t help myself. Balancing ape-like on the knuckles of one hand, I leaned forward to her. Presley’s eyes widened as my lips set on a mission to be on hers. Her hot steamy breath intimately interlaced with mine. We were only a hair’s distance from touching when she heaved her personal items to her body, stood, and dashed around me.

I stood and watched her scurry across the entry to the front doors. I walked toward her. She turned and used her cute ass to push the door open and backed out of the building. “Have a good night, Jude. See you Friday morning. Bye.” Her eyes flashed from my eyes to my crotch and back again.

Our eyes united intimately one last time.

“Bye, Presley.” I brushed past her. “Was really nice running into you.”

Chapter Five

The fact that I got no sleep last night shouldn’t surprise me. The fact that I didn’t masturbate to relieve the tension and encourage relaxation should. Running into Jude, or colliding like a wrecking ball into his firm but incredibly warm body, kept my brain dashing a mile a minute, every moment replayed over and over. When we were picking up my dropped items, I’d swear he was leaning in to kiss me, until I’d looked in the mirror at home and saw graphite smudged all over my nose. He was probably going to wipe the smudges away in disgust.

It was the last day of the month at the auto mall. I was determined to get as close to Drexel’s sold tally as I could. I wore my best pantsuit, straightened my already straight hair, applied a little makeup, and chose sensible heels, ones that would allow me to move swiftly to any walk-ins that entered the dealership. Onsite, I reviewed my calendar and rechecked that I had the three test-drive appointments set up and all possible car prep was finished. All three requested vehicles were waiting around the corner to be driven to a spot in front. Only varsity parking for my clients. I was pulling out all the stops today.

My first appointment arrived. After I introduced myself, the middle-aged man went into a partially sexist diatribe about how a female car salesperson was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard of. Well, next to women in the military, of course.

Of course…

Considering we’d handled all of his information and appointment details by e-mail and my name was kind of gender neutral. Not really though.
I almost didn’t blame him for not knowing, but another part of me needed to prove to him that he was simply wrong.

On my worst day, I do this job better than any man.

I walked him back to my office, made small talk, and then focused on business, asking the right questions, keeping eye contact, following up quickly, offering suggestions. By the time we were both out of inquiry, I’d made a valid argument that I was the woman for the job.

The buzz-cut grey-haired man leaned back in his chair. “So are we gonna continue to shoot the shit like we’re old Army pals, or are you going to let me drive that hunk of metal outside?”

I escorted him outside to the Ford F-150 he requested by e-mail. He rounded the vehicle, entered and drove at what could only be called a Sunday/Grandpa pace, but I enjoyed his safe and fuel-efficient approach to automobile ownership. By the end of the drive we’d talked about his six grandkids and their numerous activities, from soccer and baseball to dance and music. They were why he needed more room than his single-cab Ford Ranger offered. He helped his two daughters to transport the grandkids around. One of the girls’ husbands passed away last year from cancer, and he helped out where he could. Tears filled my eyes and I gave him my condolences. He sighed, relaying how hard it was to see his beautiful girl’s heart still broken in two. It was times like this that regardless of whether they bought or not, I had a part in something I could be proud of.

Upon returning to the dealership, he spotted Charlie and beelined to him.

And here it goes. Somehow I messed this one up. Great.

“Charlie Johnson, you SOB! Why didn’t you tell me you had a secret weapon at the dealership? I would have prepared myself for her assault. It was on level with the captain’s bitch and berate that time after we almost flipped the Humvee at A.T.” They hugged as two old friends.

“Gus Sheffield! Jesus, it’s been forever. Presley’s on track to be our best salesperson.”

“Well, I can see why. I’m gonna need to call my daughter. Her eighteen-year-old son, you remember Ryker, right?”

Charlie nodded.

Gus wrapped an arm around Charlie, and they both stared at me. “Well, he’s been looking for a dependable car and I’m sure he’d love to take a test-drive with that sweetheart in the seat next to him.”

“Now, Gus, don’t be lettin’ your grandson make any moves on my favorite salesperson.”

And oh … my … God!

Best feeling ever. The two of them continued fussing it up Grandpa-style over me. Gus ended up buying the truck, and Charlie took care of the details so they could catch up.

One down, four to go to beat Drexel Mason. If, and that was a huge if, he hadn’t sold any today. Thinking of Dixless … where is he?

“Hey Jillian, where’s Mason?”

“Called in sick. I guess he figured he had the month sewn up. Prez, you have to do this. Kick his ass, sister! We all need that asshole to be brought down a notch and seeing your picture on the ‘Shrine to Dixless’ would be so awesome.”

“Jillian, keep it on the down-low with the nickname, please.”

She cringed. “Sorry. I just got all excited. Plus, Presley, I guarantee not another woman here isn’t thinking the same thing.”

“Okay, here’s what I need you to do. I have to stay hydrated, so keep bottled water on my desk, please. Let me know if Dixless shows up, and if for some reason he calls in to talk to Charlie or Trent, please take a message or stall him the best you can. I imagine he’ll try to sabotage me somehow. Okay, my next test-drive should be coming in.”

“Will do all. Good luck!” She raised jazz-hands. “We’re rooting for you!”

Drexel is out sick? This is the best thing to happen. Well, not for him but for me. I’m down only four to surpass him. I can do this. I think.

The next client, Alice Evans, test-drove and I could tell she hated, and I mean absolutely
hated
to the point of tears, the bare-bones new car she picked out online. The wiry tall woman needed something to fit her leggy and thin frame, not an undersized car.

I guided her to my office and explained the benefits of having an SUV, especially a four-wheel drive SUV, in the winter. Alice lowered her voice to let me know that her ex-husband messed up her credit, and she would have to pay cash. I asked how much she had, and she whispered $10,000 like it was a small amount of money. I could totally work with that. We found her the perfect SUV in the used lot. She fell in love with the handling, the upgraded interior, the heated seats, and the remote start for chilly winters. Now I just had to get the dealership’s sales manager, Trent, to come down from $12,500 to her $10,000 budget. A challenge but not impossible.

After getting Alice a cup of coffee, I headed to Trent’s office.

“Hey, Trent, have a minute?”

“Yeah. Whatcha got?” He moved paperwork to the side.

“Have a client who wants to buy that silver Nissan Pathfinder that’s been sitting on the lot for almost a year…”

“Yeah?” He leaned back in his chair.

“Willing to offer ten grand cash for it.” I waited.

Sometimes it wasn’t what you said but how you said it. And other times it was knowing when to stop saying anything
at all.

He tipped his eyes up to the ceiling, bouncing in his seat, clucking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. When he returned to a speaking human and not a chicken, he threw up a general wave of his hand. “All right, it’s end of the month and I was going to send it to auction next month anyway. We’d get half that much there. Make the deal.”

I practically ran back to Alice, and together we jumped up and down at the news.

Slightly unprofessional? Sure. But she was so thrilled I couldn’t help it. I handed her a box of tissues when the moment overtook her.

“I really needed this, Presley. I got a new job yesterday and I knew my old POS car wasn’t going to make it much longer. You saved me.”

“Crap! Hand me one of those tissues, Alice.” I half laughed and half cried. “I’m so glad I could help you.”

I escorted her to the business office to finish paperwork and take ownership of her new used vehicle. I made sure the detail center shined the interior and exterior to almost brand-new, taking an extra hour to complete the transformation. When Alice finished with the red tape, I walked her to the detailed vehicle with a box of tissues ready to go with her on the road. Through tears she told me she would be back later with her teenaged son to pick up what would be his POS car from now. He’d be thrilled, too.

My last scheduled appointment of the day arrived after lunch. I met him at the front desk and we walked outside to the Porsche 911 Carrera S that he requested. It was an absolutely amazing car. And absolutely expensive, too. He rounded the car. Once, twice, three times. Never opened a door, never stepped foot inside, never asked a single question. I prepared myself to start exalting its better features when he interrupted my internal salesperson.

“Okay, I’ll take it. My boss will be happy to have what he wanted for the weekend. Where’s the sales or business office? I’ll take care of the paperwork myself.”

“I’m glad you like the car, Mr. Sullivan. I’d be glad to present your offer to the sales manager, Mr. Woods.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Bradenhurst, I should’ve been clear. My offer is the sticker price, and I want to be gone as soon possible. I have three other important errands to finish for Mr. Buffett before the shareholders’ meeting.”

Holy crap! I didn’t know if he meant
the
Warren Buffett, but even if he didn’t mean the Oracle of Omaha, it was probably some relative. And even if it wasn’t … it was a sale! I decided to let Trent handle this one. Especially since Mr. Sullivan was offering sticker and probably cash on a $100,000+ vehicle, without driving it.

“No problem. Let me check that Mr. Woods is available.”

I offered him a seat in the waiting area and a bottle of water and walked to Trent’s office.

I stuck my head around the corner. “Trent?”

“No, Presley, we can’t go lower on the Pathfinder for your new BFF.” His gaze stayed down and concentrated on his pile of papers.

“No, Trent, there is a representative here for a Mr. Buffett who wants to buy the Porsche 911 Carrera S. His name is Skyler Sullivan. He’d like to get the paperwork done ASAP so he can finish his list of to-dos for Mr. Buffett.”

Trent sat up straight. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope, that’s what he says. Are you ready to work with him? I did my job. He wants to buy it sticker price right now.”

Trent took over, introduced himself, and made like a kiss-ass. Mr. Sullivan thanked me and we shook hands. I left the room for fear of being sucked into the giant vortex of swirling crap gushing from Trent’s piehole.

Yes! That was three down.

While I had a minute, I walked to the copy room and made some copies. By three p.m., I’d called every possible lead I’d ever spoken with and there were no loose ends to speak of. They’d either bought elsewhere, put buying on hold, or basically told me to F-off. I watched the clock on my computer click down. Slowly. The digits hit four p.m., and when my phone rang I jumped like my grandma at a fireworks show.

“Good afternoon, Presley Bradenhurst.”

“Prez, it’s Jillian,” she whispered. “You need to go outside now, there’s a guy milling around the lot. I’ve never seen him before. He might be new. But he might not.”

I didn’t even say thank you or good-bye. I threw the phone down, grabbed my jacket, and ran for the door. Outside, I watched Sam rounding the corner of the building, eyeing up the visitor.

“Hello, again!” I yelled and waved at the guy looking in the SUV’s driver’s side window.

The thin man stepped back from the vehicle. “Presley?”

My heels ground to a halt on the concrete.
How does he know my name?

I took the last twenty steps and … my prayers had been answered. Mr. Miller. The neighbor I grew up next to and my high school math teacher. He stood next to a new, gray SUV.

“Hello, Mr. Miller. It’s so nice to see you!”

The man tugged me in for a hug. Sam backed away with a scowl, acquiescing to the fact that a personal relationship already existed.

I cut to the chase. “Mr. Miller, have you been in contact with any other salesperson here at Jessen?”

“No, just stopped by to check out the new Explorers. Beth has been on me to trade up for a year.”

“Well, you’ve picked a winner right here.”

Mr. Miller took a step back and glanced me up and down. “Presley Bradenhurst, now, it hasn’t gotten past me that you look different. I hope you’re feeling well.”

“Yes, Mr. Miller, I’ve been exercising and eating right.”

“Well, you were always adorable, but dear, you’re a beautiful young woman now.”

A warm gushy feeling rode through my body at his sincere words. “Thank you. Hope all is well with Mrs. Miller?”

“She’s got her bowling and mahjong. As long as she makes it to see her friends, we’re very good and I’m not in the doghouse.”

I chuckled. “So are you interested in a test-drive?”

“No, no. I really just wanted to sticker surf while Beth gets her hair done. You know, see the mix of metal, leather, and plastic up close.”

“Well, just to let you know, the incentives on these models are great, but … they end today.”

“Like how great?”

Hook, line, and sinker.

My fourth sale of the day. I ended up tied with Dixless for the month. That was a whole lot better than first loser, but not what I’d really fought for. I was exhausted by the time I grabbed my purse and proceeded to the front door after five o’clock.