Understanding his motives and intent was more than a little challenging. So her curiosity had gotten the best of her yet again, and she had agreed to come over in person to question him on the ins and outs of racing. No doubt she could have asked him anything over the phone, but he wanted to see her, and she wanted to see his reaction to her in person. She also wanted to ask for her dating manual back and see if she could ferret out why he had actually taken it in the first place.

As she pulled into his driveway, checking the house number against the one he had given her and she’d scribbled onto a piece of scrap paper, she tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed.

She was really the worst student the graduate program had ever seen. Instead of focusing on her thesis, she was playing some kind of inexplicable game with Ty McCordle. She should be setting up interviews with drivers and their wives to determine how they had met and fallen in love. She should be following the Six Steps on a sampling of drivers to record their effectiveness.

Yet somehow she was justifying being at Ty’s house under the flimsy guise of having him instruct her on the intricacies of stock car racing. Which she could just as readily learn from books, the Internet, and her friends Tamara and Suzanne.

The truth was, and she strove to be entirely honest with herself and everyone around her at all times, that she wanted to see Ty just because she wanted to see him. Because he made her laugh and caused her heart to race. He also made her feel sexy, and it was safe to say that, while she always felt reasonably attractive, fairly intelligent, in control, and self-aware, she had never really felt sexy. Not in the “men want to rip my clothes off” kind of way.

Ty made her feel that way, and she was drawn to it. Wanted to explore it.

The garage door went up, and Ty strode into the driveway. He was clearly visible under the coach lights, and as usual, just the sight of him made Imogen swallow a mouthful of spit. God, he was just gorgeous. It really wasn’t right that any man should be entitled to claim that much masculinity, yet still retain such an easy prettiness. He had fine features and a narrow face, soft hair, and an even softer chin stubble, yet he was so confident, so toned and defined, so inclined to swagger, that he was all man and then some. It was a combination she was struggling to resist, with little success.

Especially when he grinned that naughty little smile, which he was doing at the moment.

Yeah, that would be her jeans going up in flames.