Harlequin Kimani Romance June 2016 Box Set by Yahrah St. John

Author:Yahrah St. John
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460399132
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 2

“Are you okay?”

When he went against the advice of the bystanders—one of whom was an off-duty EMT—and got out of his car to confront Quinn, that was not the question Ike had intended to ask. “Are you crazy?”, “What in the heck were you doing?” or “Why did you swerve into my lane?” was more like what he had in mind. But when he reached the driver’s side door, looked into frightened hazel-brown eyes partially hidden by naturally long lashes and took in the quivering lips sporting pale pink gloss, Quinn’s well-being suddenly became important than a verbal confrontation.

“I’m sorry. The dog. Did you see him? Jumped right in front of my car...” Quiet replaced chaos as she killed the engine and with it the blaring music. The movement caused blood to drip from the cut on the side of her head onto her arm. “Oh, my God, I’m bleeding!” She snatched the rearview mirror toward her and glimpsed an ugly gash on her temple just as an ambulance siren announced its approach.

“You were driving like a...” Ike managed before becoming distracted by the same tempting flesh that had stayed on his mind long after the charity ball was over, which meant far longer than he should have allowed. He assumed Quinn wore shorts, but from his position couldn’t quite tell. All he could see were bare legs that seemed to go on forever and hardened, pert nipples pressed against a ripped tee. “Way too fast,” he finished, almost as an afterthought.

“I was driving just fine,” she retorted with a pout. “It was the dog. Did you see...” She looked around, then back into Ike’s accusing gaze. “I swear, a dog ran in front of my car!”

“Blaming this on a dog, huh?” He looked around, becoming more irritated by the second. His smashed-up pride and joy being only one of several reasons. “Where is it now?”

“Good God, man! Are you all right?”

Ike turned toward the familiar voice behind him. His focus went from the look of horror on Warren’s face to where his eyes traveled after asking the question. Ike had only glanced at the Ferrari’s front end. He wasn’t ready to see the side that had taken the brunt of the collision. Didn’t want to confirm what he already knew to be true, that rare and expensive car parts had been damaged. Didn’t want to believe that his prized 250, one of only thirty-six such models ever made, driven in public fewer than two or three times a year, had crossed paths with a Corvette-driving Andretti wannabe using a street in the town square as her racetrack.

“Don’t even say it,” he warned Warren, a hand up as if to ward off the painful truth. “It’s bad, I know.”

“What happened?”

“Reckless driving,” he answered with a nod toward Quinn.

“I was not driving recklessly. I tried to dodge an animal.”

“A phantom dog,” Ike added, a heavy dose of sarcasm served on the side.

Quinn’s comeback was interrupted by EMTs rushing to her car.

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