Fast, Furious and Forbidden. Alison Kent

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      His heart had pounded, a match to hers. His breathing had grown ragged and rushed. She had barely been able to think, or to swallow, or do more than chew at her bottom lip. He’d stopped her with his thumb, and the contact had sent her belly falling to her feet.

      She’d moved one hand to hold his wrist, but her fingers didn’t fit around it. She felt his skin, his bones, the crisp hairs there, wondering at how human he felt to her touch. And so she’d touched more. The back of his hand, his nails, the pads of his fingertips, the dip between his forefinger and thumb.

      She’d touched his face, found the bump where he’d broken his nose during football, learned the arch of his brows, his right that was especially wicked, the thickness of his lashes, the way his dimples deepened when he smiled. She’d threaded her fingers into his hair, and he’d turned his face to kiss her palm, holding her gaze while his tongue circled around and around on her skin, while his teeth took hold and marked her.

      Nothing had been the same for her since.

      Ridding herself of the disturbing musings with a very deep breath, on shaky legs Cardin delivered the drinks she’d taken too long to serve, apologizing to the family of four who were long past ready to eat. Once she had their order, she made a beeline for the kitchen and entered the menu items into the system that would queue them up for Eddie and his staff.

      That done, she slipped away to the ladies’ room to check her face and hair. She needed to know if she looked the harried mess she felt before heading over to finish her business with Trey. He was here. She was here. Why wait?

      Surprisingly, the reflection staring back at her wasn’t a harried mess at all. Yes, flyaway wisps of hair had escaped her ponytail to frame her face, and her cheeks were understandably flushed, but it was a sexy rather than flustered look, if she did say so herself.

      The loosely rolled neckline of her Headlights T-shirt revealed her collarbone from shoulder to shoulder. The big, round lights of the truck-grill logo were strategically screen-printed to outline her breasts. It was cheesy, sure, but since this was Trey and her quest so important, Cardin was not above using her arsenal of female ammunition.

      And with her long bare legs beneath her short denim skirt, her big baby blues and her 34Bs looking like Cs with help from Victoria’s Secret, she figured all angles—and curves—were covered.

      Another steadying breath, and she headed back to the kitchen, bypassing the service window where orders sat waiting. Grabbing a clean platter, she ducked around the two high school kids who worked as dishwashers, and dodged Albert, the second shift cook, who was carting a tub of freshly ground beef from the walk-in refrigerator to his station.

      With Albert’s hands full, Cardin didn’t have to worry about the retired and grizzled military man slapping her on the ass, and she reached her father unscathed. Holding out the platter for him to fill, she got straight to the point. “I need a half dozen ears of corn.”

      Eddie Worth had been only eighteen when Cardin was born. Now separated from her mother, he was considered a very hot property by single women of all ages. He turned from stirring a big pot of chili, his blue eyes that he’d passed to his daughter twinkling. “This corn’s going out free of charge, I’m guessing? Since you’re back here after it yourself?”

      “It is, yes. Compliments of the house.”

      “Who are we complimenting this time?”

      Cardin stuck out her tongue. “You say that like I give away food on a regular basis.”

      “You do give away food on a regular basis.” He reached for a pair of heavy duty tongs, steam from the boiling vat clouding around his face and his already sweaty forehead. “I just like to know the who so I can puzzle out the why.”

      Hmm. She didn’t really like the idea of her father puzzling out anything about her plans for Trey. “It’s for the Corley Motors table. They finished what they ordered, and I thought it would be nice to toss another platter their way. Butch won today, you know.”

      Eddie dropped the sixth ear on the pile Cardin held and looked up at her from beneath his narrowed black brows. “Something tells me you’re not tossing anything at the whole team. And that Butch winning doesn’t matter to you any more than it does to me.”

      And to Eddie, she knew, it didn’t matter at all. He’d gotten over racing when his accident left him unable to drive Jeb’s car. He’d gotten over Corley Motors at the same time because the team’s crew chief was the son of the man who’d almost killed him. “Okay. It’s for Trey. Happy now?”

      “Happy that you’re singling out Whip? No.” He shook his head. “Not really.”

      Cardin sighed her frustration. Her father could hold a grudge longer than anyone she knew. And a stupid grudge at that, since it had been Aubrey Davis—not Trey—who had put Eddie in the hospital. “Even if I were singling him out for more than a few ears of corn, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

      Eddie went back to stirring the chili. “What part of that is supposed to make me feel better?”

      It was hard, but Cardin managed not to strangle him. “The part where you remember all the things you taught me about dealing with men. The part where you remember that I can take care of myself. You can trust me, okay?”

      The spoon stopped. The chili bubbled around it. “My trusting you doesn’t mean he won’t break your heart.”

      “Oh, Daddy.” Cardin rubbed her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he stared down, reducing the fire on the stove when the chili started getting too hot. “No one is going to break my heart. I won’t let them. And that includes Trey Davis.”

      Eddie took a minute to shake it off, then he banged the spoon against the side of the pot and used it instead of his finger to point. “I’m going to remind you of that when you come to me with tears in your eyes because he has. Now get that corn out there before it’s too cold to melt butter.”

      With a quick kiss to Eddie’s stubble-covered cheek, Cardin was off, dodging Albert’s hands, the dishwashers’ sudsy puddles, and Sandy’s biting tongue—the other woman snapping about Cardin expecting her tables to be covered while she was off doing God knew what.

      It hadn’t been that long, and Cardin was well aware that she needed to get back to work, but if she didn’t snag Trey’s attention now, she’d have to hope for—or manufacture—another opportunity. Waiting would be a waste of the time he would be in Dahlia, and this trip would very likely be his last.

      She was only halfway there when he saw her coming. He was leaning on one elbow, his beer mug palmed in his hand, listening to one of his tablemates tell a whopper of a story when he caught her eye. It was a live-wire jolt, the way their gazes fused, and she had to step carefully since she couldn’t see a thing in her path.

      Reaching the end of the row of tables, she turned the corner, vaguely aware that the men had gone silent and all eyes were on her. She couldn’t let herself wonder what they were thinking or care about that now. Trey was waiting, his dark eyes broadcasting his curiosity and a much more personal interest.

      Good. That’s what she wanted. To see she wasn’t alone in feeling this connection, the one driving her impulsive actions and the staccato beat of her heart.

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