The shop phone rings and I snap back to reality. I shove her away, turning and striding into the office as fast as I can without looking like I’m running.

“Hey!” she shouts at my retreating back. Those three letters manage to carry an unnerving amount of anger and frustration. She follows me and slams the office door behind her even though we’re the only ones here.

“East Side Auto?” I say into the receiver. A guy’s voice rambles into my ear, but I can’t comprehend his words.

“Hey,” she shouts again from across the small space. I hold up a finger and point to the phone. “Oh hell no. I don’t care if that is the Pope! Hang up the damn phone and get back over here.”

I lean on the edge of the desk. “Uh huh,” I say to the guy, who’s mimicking the high-pitched squealing sound of what I’m guessing is a loose fan belt.

Jessie rips the phone out of my hand. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed.” She slams the phone down and grabs my shirt. My knuckles go white when I grip the edge of the desk to keep myself from touching her. I could take her right here, in this office. A quick swipe to send invoices and shit tumbling to the floor and I could prop that sexy ass on the desk and…fuck.

“You scared off my help,” she accuses, her voice hoarse and her chest heaving.

“He scares easy.”

“Listen to me, Devin Bennett. I already have three overly protective brothers. I. Do. Not. Need. A. Fourth.” She steps between my spread thighs, pressing her chest against mine. “Now, if you want to talk about becoming my jealous boyfriend—”

“Not happening.”

She releases my shirt and pats my chest. She spins around, whipping me in the face with that damn ponytail. My dick stirs. Now hairplay is my fetish?

She’s halfway to the door. “Then you’ll just have to get used to anyone looking at me however and whenever they want.”

“Don’t wear skirts on ladders,” I command.

She pauses in front of the door with her back to me, bends forward a few inches, lifts up her skirt and flashes me her bright red panties. Turning, she rests her chin on her shoulder with a sinister grin.

“I’m wearing boy shorts,” she says as if that makes a difference. She drops her skirt, but it’s too late. The vision of her perfect ass in those red panties is burned into my memory forever.

I cross the room and slam the door shut when she tries to open it. I press my body against hers and cage her in.

Her voice cracks. “It’s killing you, isn’t it? Losing control.”

“My shop. My rules.”

“My body. My rules.” She shifts her hips against me. I wrap an arm around her waist and hold her there. “You’ve made it quite clear that my business is none of your business.”

“What will it take to make you behave?”