Melanie stepped outside into the oppressive heat carrying a frosted mug of lemonade. Laughter bubbled up in her throat at the sight that greeted her eyes. The only part of Chris that was visible were his legs. The rest of him was under her car. As much as she didn't want to, Melanie couldn't help but admire those muscular, tanned male legs.

Walking up to him, she tapped his Reebok with her flip flop. "I brought you something to drink."

He scooted from beneath the car, moving sideways like a sand crab. When his head was clear, he stood up and wiped his dirty hands with an equally dirty rag. In spite of being sweaty, rumpled, and sporting a smudge of something black on his jaw he looked good enough lick. The fact that his not-so-white-anymore T-shirt was molded to his broad chest and impressive abs definitely upped the sexy quotient. Uh huh, like he needed to look more sexy.

He took the proffered lemonade and drained it in a series of nonstop gulps that drew Melanie's attention to his strong, tanned throat. When he finished, he touched the cold mug to his forehead. "Thanks. I needed that."

"Want some more?"

He shook his head. "Not now, thanks."

His proximity was having a strange effect on her stomach. Stepping away from him, she asked, "How's it going?"

"Good. I just finished changing the oil. I gave you a complete tune-up and your battery is hooked up to my recharger. All that's left is changing the spark plugs." He indicated the opened hood with a jerk of his head. "Wanna watch?"

"Sure, but I have to warn you: I know diddly squat about cars."

"That's okay. I know diddly squat about cooking."

Melanie followed him to the front of the car then watched him open a package of what she assumed were spark plugs. She wasn't sure what fascinated her more-- the ease with which he selected foreign-looking items from his toolbox, or the way his muscles bunched and flexed while he worked. Whatever it was, she was soon thoroughly engrossed, and surprisingly curious.

She leaned over the engine with him. “How do you know so much about cars?”

“My dad and grandfather taught me.  Grandpa was a mechanic.”

She pointed. “What's that little do-flickit?"

"The air filter," he said, screwing a spark plug into place.

"How about that thingamabob there?"

"The carburetor."

"I've heard of that. What's it do?"

"It vaporizes liquid fuel and controls its mixing with air for combustion in the engine."

"Uh-huh. And the English translation of that is… ?"

"It makes the car go vroooomm."

"Ah."

She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Whew. It sure is hot out here."

Chris snuck a glance at her and nodded in mental agreement. Hot as hell. And every time he looked at her, in those cutoffs that showcased her longs, slim legs and curvy butt-- which was currently hoisted in the air as she leaned over-- it got a little hotter.

Her skin was the color of warm honey, and his fingers itched to touch its soft smoothness. Her reddish-brown hair was a riotous cap of untamed curls that begged to be messed with. Her eyes reminded him of sweet, gooey, yummy chocolate, and her mouth… whoa! Those plump pink lips had carnal thoughts racing through his mind, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on what he was doing.

Her finger bounced back and forth, pointing at this and that, asking what everything was. He answered all her questions, falling more and more in lust with each passing minute. His mind tried to convince his hormones that this was not the woman they were looking for-- this woman was more than a one-nighter and represented a serious threat to his bachelor freedom-- but his hormones were having none of it.

This is the one we want, his hormones informed him. This one right here, who doesn't know an oilfiller from a brake pad. The one who smells like fresh-baked brownies and stares at you with those big chocolatey-brown eyes. Now do something about it before we get nasty.

She pointed to something else, asking what it was. When he turned his head to explain the intricacies of the wiper-fluid dispenser, they bumped noses. Chris froze and stared into her startled eyes.

She was so close. And she smelled so good. And looked so good. God, so good.

Before she could back away, and before he could change his mind, he did what he'd wanted to do since almost the first moment he saw her. He angled his head and brushed his mouth over hers.

He’d expected to feel a tingle, but he wasn’t prepared for the electric sizzle that crackled through him. All thoughts of spark plugs, do-flickits, and thingamabobs drained from his head. He reached for her, pulling them both upright. Their heads smacked into the raised hood at the same time.

"Ouch!" Melanie yelped, leaning back and rubbing the top of her head. "Wow. I feel dizzy. I bet I have a concussion."

Chris wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close, and ran gentle fingers over the small lump forming on her head. "Me, too."

She gazed up at him. "You think you have a concussion?"

"No. I feel dizzy. And it has nothing to do with hitting my head."

"The heat getting to you?"

His gaze settled on her mouth. "You could say that."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, my. You're going to kiss me again."

"That okay?"

"I'm not sure. The first one almost knocked me unconscious."

He lowered his head. "Yeah," he breathed against her mouth. "I know exactly what you mean."