The Sex Test. Patty Salier
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Название: The Sex Test

Автор: Patty Salier

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Современные любовные романы

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СКАЧАТЬ you saying you’re withdrawing your name from this research project?” Her voice was so high-pitched she could barely recognize it. “Because if you are, go right ahead!”

      “Fine, Professor Lady!” He abruptly turned to lead her downstairs straight to the double copper doors.

      Her hands were sweating against her leather briefcase handle as she hurried after him. What was she saying? She couldn’t afford to lose her first case study. The university’s administration would surely contact him to ask why he’d dropped out of their research project. He’d inevitably tell them that she’d completely ravaged the interview. She couldn’t let him ruin her very first research project!

      She bit back her pride for one torturous moment.

      “Can’t we discuss this matter more calmly, Mr. Farrell?” she asked, searching for the right words to get him back on track with the study.

      “Zane,” he corrected as he stopped walking and faced her.

      “Mr. Farrell,” she deliberately stressed.

      His sparkling blue eyes grew wide with sudden amusement. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

      “What’s so funny?” She impatiently tapped her foot on the floor. Any second, she was out of there, any second.

      “Come on, admit it. You still want me to participate in your research. Yet you refuse to acknowledge that we’ve just gotten past phase one.”

      “Phase one?” she repeated, glaring at him from the corner of her eyes in defiant confusion.

      “The formalities. The awkwardness. The prim-andproper front you’ve put on since you walked through the door.”

      “That’s it!” she howled. “I’m gone!”

      She almost dropped her briefcase in her scurrying to grab the door handle. Forget impressing the university administration. She would not be insulted by this gargantuan man!

      She rushed out of his house, almost tripped on one of the porch steps, but finally made it to her Valiant. She had to get away from him—far, far away. But her driver’s door was stuck, and she couldn’t get it open.

      “I hate this old car!” she bellowed as she unsuccessfully tugged and tugged to release the door.

      Suddenly, Zane was beside her wanting to help. The heat of his body only inches away radiated against hers.

      “Don’t try so hard, Rachel,” he whispered as if he was talking more about the interview than the car door.

      With a click and a turn, he unlocked the driver’s door with great ease, which further infuriated her. He was about to politely hold it open for her, but she pushed past him into the car.

      “Thank you,” she seethed as she slammed the door closed. Her face felt so hot with anger she felt ready to burst like a balloon.

      She started up her Valiant. It belched out a cloud of charcoal smoke that practically surrounded her entire car.

      “Professor, your car is screaming for an oil lube,” Zane called out. “I can recommend an excellent mechanic—”

      “No way!” she cut in, needing badly to get back to State University, her apartment, the Los Angeles Zoo, anywhere but near Zane Farrell!

       Two

      The moment Rachel’s car zoomed away, he rushed back up the stairs to the master suite. He threw off his clean duds and grabbed his oil-stained coveralls and work shirt.

      Johnny Wells never meant to fool Rachel Smith. But he had no other choice.

      He rushed out of the mansion to Mr. Farrell’s four-car garage. His faded maroon pickup truck looked incongruous parked next to Mr. Farrell’s emerald Jaguar, sparkling black Mercedes and red Porsche sports car.

      The heavy metal door to Johnny’s old pickup squeaked as he slammed it closed. He glanced at his callused hands on the steering wheel. Dammit! Black grease was still embedded underneath his fingernails. Had Rachel noticed?

      The real Zane Farrell had immaculately clean hands. He’d never had to pick up a wrench or hammer. Why should he? Mr. Farrell could afford to pay workers to do the manual labor for him. Workers like Johnny Wells.

      Johnny pressed his boot down harder on the gas pedal as he drove along the curvy narrow roads of Bel Air. His hands perspired on the hot steering wheel. Had Rachel guessed that he wasn’t Zane Farrell? He’d really messed up with the Yale thing. He knew zip about master’s or miss’s degrees.

      The last thing Johnny wanted was to screw it up for Mr. Farrell. He highly respected the man. And when he’d agreed to house-sit for Mr. Farrell, Johnny had also made a special promise to him…a promise he didn’t dare go back on.

      As he zipped his truck out of the exclusive community of Bel Air, he took a deep satisfying breath of normal workingman air. No way did he feel comfortable in posh surroundings. Sure, it was a blast playing the role of a multibillionaire. He didn’t mind playacting as Mr. Farrell with the real estate broker who’d come to the mansion door, or the homeowners’ insurance guy who’d come by for an appointment Mr. Farrell had forgotten. He’d proudly pulled off both encounters without a glitch.

      But for some mysterious reason, his gut burned like a blazing fire, knowing he’d lied to Professor Rachel Smith.

      To Johnny, telling the truth was synonymous with being a solid honorable human being. And with Rachel, pretending to be Zane Farrell somehow felt low and dirty.

      Johnny jammed on his brakes for a red light on Sunset Boulevard. He was right next to the university campus where Rachel worked.

      Johnny felt a slow grin lighten his face. Rachel Smith was definitely not the professor he’d imagined she would be.

      On the phone with her, he’d envisioned a high-nosed academic with an uppity attitude, stiff demeanor and brisk manner. But the second he’d yanked open Mr. Farrell’s front door to greet her, he’d smelled intoxicating gardenia perfume in the air.

      Rachel’s soft velvet-brown eyes made him want to stargaze forever. Her silken chestnut hair was pulled tight in a bun, and he’d ached to release her tresses and run his fingers through the smooth strands.

      He’d immediately sensed a soft vulnerability about her and felt the instant urge to hold her protectively in his arms.

      When she’d spoken about the sexuality study, his gaze was trained to lips which were like flaming red rosebuds ready to be parted with his kiss.

      A blaring car horn awakened Johnny to the now-green light on Sunset Boulevard.

      He bitterly laughed to himself. Why fool himself? He was definitely no match for Professor Rachel Smith. Once she knew who he really was, she’d immediately take a rocket flight to Venus to get clear of him.

      Rachel was from a universe of higher education, renowned СКАЧАТЬ