What a Woman Wants (3 page)

“I’ll go first,” Monique said eagerly. “I can’t wait to tell you guys what I’ve decided.”

“Then please do,” Shannon said, sitting straighter in her chair and all ears.

Monique smiled like a schoolgirl with a secret. “It’s something I thought of doing lately.”

“What?” both Faith and Shannon asked.

“You know that I began doing some recreational running for about six months now, as a way to stay healthy and in shape. Well, what I would really like to do is take my running seriously and compete, and I understand there will be a triathlon here on the island in August. That will give me a about a month to get in shape “

Shannon waited on her to say something else. When Monique didn’t add anything, she just stared at her for a moment then asked, “That’s it?”

“Yes,” Monique said, grinning. “Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“No,” Shannon was quick to say. “You want to spend the rest of your summer here getting all hot and sweaty?”

Monique laughed. “Basically, yes.”

Shannon shook her head when she saw that Monique was serious. “But I don’t get it,” Shannon said. “Isn’t there something else you’d rather do this summer? Something that you really want to do?”

“That’s what I really want to do, Shannon. I want to be ready to compete in that Beach Bum Triathlon. I know there’s no way I will win, but I think it will be worthwhile to get my body ready to compete.”

“I agree, and I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Faith jumped in with her opinion before Shannon could deliver a thoughtless comeback. “And now it’s my turn to tell what I’ve decided to do.”

“What?” Monique asked.

Faith smiled brightly. “I want to learn how to play tennis.”

Shannon stared blankly at her. “Tennis? But you took lessons a couple of years ago.”

“No, I was supposed to take lessons but never got around to it. This summer I will.”

Shannon leaned back in her chair, looking from Faith to Monique and back. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we were supposed to do use this summer to take on new adventures and broaden our horizons. We’re to live each day to the fullest and do whatever we want and not worry about anyone’s expectations.”

Monique and Faith nodded. “Yes, and that’s what we’ll be doing,” Monique said, smiling.

Interesting,
Shannon thought. “I find it strange that neither of your plans for the summer includes a man.”

Faith seemed amused. “What’s so strange about it? I didn’t have to come to Hilton Head to get a man. There are plenty in Minneapolis. Besides, I don’t consider a summer fling as a way of broadening my horizons—and I certainly wouldn’t think of it as an adventure.”

“Umm, you could make it one,” Shannon said, throwing her a teasing smile.

“Yes, but that’s not what I want,” Faith said in all earnest. “You may find this hard to believe, Shannon, but a man is not at the top of every woman’s ‘to do’ list.”

“And I agree,” Monique piped in.

A smile appeared at the corners of Shannon’s lips. “Well, he’s at the top of mine, and with that said, I’ve decided what I want this summer is an affair to remember. I want to show some unsuspecting male that that he’s not the only one capable of being a panther whose ready to pounce.”

Faith blinked. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Shannon said, without batting an eye.

“God, I feel sorry for your victim,” Monique said, shuddering at the thought.

“Whatever,” Shannon said, remembering all the good-looking hunks she had seen on the beach that day. Some had bodies that could make a woman drool. “So you see, ladies, I plan on spending my summer doing something I’ve always wanted to do. While you’re getting all hot and sweaty, Monique, and you’re making out with your tennis racquet, Faith, I plan to go on a manhunt.”

The next morning
Monique glanced around the beach, glad she had turned down Faith and Shannon’s invitation to eat breakfast at that cafe on the strip. She had wanted to begin her early morning jog—she intended a run down the beach every morning to become a ritual for her.

With the triathlon only a month away, she wanted to get in the best shape possible. The three-mile beach run wouldn’t be a joke, and she intended to take it seriously. Although she knew she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning, as she’d told Faith and Shannon, just to compete would be a major accomplishment.

After doing a few warm-ups, she was about to take off down the beach when she heard her name. She turned. Recognizing the man jogging toward her coaxed a smile from deep inside. “Lyle? Lyle Montgomery?”

Her smile deepened when he got closer and she saw that it really
was
him. Gosh, how long had it been? Eights years since her brother Arnie’s wedding. She remembered the first time they had met. He had been Arnie’s roommate in medical school, and she’d been no more than sixteen or seventeen when Lyle had come to spend the summer with them. Arnie had thought a guy from Indiana would appreciate the sweltering Louisiana heat, and she recalled how her parents had practically adopted Lyle into the Olivier family that summer. Everyone had liked him. She had liked him.

“Monique Olivier. I can’t believe it,” he said, coming to stand directly in front of her. “I thought it was you.”

Her smile deepened and she automatically gave him a hug. “What are you doing here in Hilton Head?” she asked. The last time she had talked to her brother and Lyle’s name had come up, Arnie had said he was living somewhere in Texas and making a name for himself in the medical field.

“I’m here for the summer running a medical symposium at the hospital.” He then quirked a brow. “And what about you? You’re a long way from Lacassine, Louisiana.”

“I know,” she said, enjoying the ease of their conversation. “I’m here with a couple of girlfriends for the summer. We worked hard all year and decided to come here and have some fun.” She didn’t want to go into details of what really had driven them to the island that summer. That would mean explaining everything, including Cely’s death, and she didn’t want to do that. It was still so hard to accept it herself.

“And you’re a jogger, I see.”

She grinned. “A jogger wannabe. I got into the habit of running at least two or three times a week back home, but I’ve decided to get into some serious running to compete in the triathlon next month.”

“Me, too,” he said as they moved farther off the boardwalk so another couple could jog past. “I’ve been running now for a couple of years but never took the time to compete in anything. Since I’m here, I decided why not.”

“Good for you.”

“And how’s your dad? I heard about your mom passing, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it to the funeral. I was out of the country when I got the news.”

Sadness came into Monique’s eyes. “Dad’s fine. Losing Mom was hard on all of us, but in the end the cancer took such a toll on her, we didn’t want to see her suffer any longer.”

Lyle nodded. “And I was sorry to hear about your husband as well.”

Monique inhaled deeply. Paul had died within a year of her mother, and it had taken everything she had to hold herself together after suffering the impact of losing the two people who had meant the most to her. “Thanks. You never met Paul, but I think you would have liked him.”

Lyle nodded again as a small smile formed on his lips. “I’m sure I would have. Arnie said he was a nice guy.”

“He was. The best.”

“Then I’m glad you got to share whatever time that you had with him.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, let me let you get started since I just finished up. Fm going to head to that cafe over there for a cup of coffee. Are you staying somewhere close by?”

“Yes, in one of those homes in the newest development of Sea Pines. What about you?”

He said, “Then I’m practically in your backyard. I’m leasing a condo in the Sand Dunes. Will you be back out again in the morning?

“Yes.”

“How about if we jog together and then go somewhere for coffee? I’d like to talk to you, and see what’s been going on with you over the years.”

“That would be nice.” Monique shook her head, and her shoulder-length hair swayed around her face.

Smiling, Lyle reached out and pushed a few wayward strands back from her face and then said, “Okay, Nicky, then this same place tomorrow but an hour earlier. It’s best to get out on the beach before the crowds come.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning with my running shoes on.”

His laughter was one of the best sounds she’d heard in a long time, and she watched him turn and jog off toward the cluster of shops. It then occurred to her that during their conversation he had called her Nicky, the nickname he had given her that summer. No one else had ever called her Nicky but him.

Nothing about Lyle had changed. He was older, true, but still good-looking. That first summer he had come home with Arnie, Lyle had been quiet and reserved, but in no time Emily Olivier had stepped in as the mother figure he’d never had in his life, and he had become just like another member of the family.

She remembered the last time she had seen him, at Arnie’s wedding. She had been talking to the bride-to-be and glanced up to see him walk into the church for rehearsal as one of the groomsmen. And she had been all giddy that he had been paired with her, which made all the other single girls downright envious. She figured he would be around thirty-eight now, the same age as Arnie. Lyle had certainly aged well. Tall, dark, and handsome, he would capture the attention of any female the moment he walked into a room. She’d heard from Arnie that he never married; instead Lyle had dedicated his life to his occupation, that of a renowned heart specialist.

As Monique took off jogging down the beach, she looked forward to seeing him again the next day.

An hour or
so later, Lyle was giving his body a brutal workout in the gym at his condo complex. Seeing Nicky had had one hell of an effect on him.

Deciding he had had enough, he left the gym to go back to his place for a shower. It had been a long time since he’d given his body so much physical abuse, but thoughts of a woman could do that to you.

Moments later, while standing beneath a spray of hot water, he thought maybe he should be taking a cold shower instead. Desire was drumming through him, taking him back in time and making him recall the exact moment he’d fallen for Nicky, all those years ago—a secret he was determined to take to his grave.

He had noticed her that first summer, and since she had been merely sixteen when he was twenty-two, he had felt guilty about lusting after his best friend’s kid sister. Even then she’d been a beauty, and when he had seen her again years later at Arnie’s wedding, he was in awe of just how much that beauty had blossomed.

He had always intended to revisit the Olivier family after that summer with the full intention of making his interest known when Monique got older. But he never got the chance. It wasn’t long after that summer that the private investigator he and his brothers had hired to find their sister had done so, and for the following years after that, he and his brothers, Logan and Lance, had made bonding with their long-lost sister their top priority. More than anything, they wanted to make sure Carrie knew that she was wanted and loved. The next time he’d talked to Arnie and asked about Monique, he’d been given the heartbreaking news that she’d married a guy she met in college.

That’s when Lyle decided that since he’d lost his first love, he would dedicate his life to his second love—the medical field. Remarkably, in a very short time he had advanced in his career and was proud of his status as one of the youngest but most noted members in his profession.

As he stepped out of the shower and dried off, he remembered the hurt and pain he’d endured knowing another man had married the woman he’d always considered to be “his Nicky.”

The only persons who’d known of his broken heart had been his brothers. He spilled his guts one night when the three had been sitting around Lance’s condo in Chicago, after overindulging in too much drink while celebrating the arrival of the New Year. Logan had sympathized with him, but Lance, who’d at the time had considered himself the ultimate playa, had been too jaded to care and had even gone so far as to tell him that women were a dime a dozen and to get over Nicky and move on to another. That was easier said than done, and although he’d dated over the years, a piece of his heart would always belong to Monique.

What was the likelihood of their paths crossing after all these years? With his busy schedule, he hadn’t kept in contact with Arnie the way he should have. He knew Arnie headed the neurosurgical department at Massachusetts General and that he and his wife, Cheryl, had three kids, a son and two daughters.

Pulling on a pair of shorts and T-shirt, he headed for the kitchen and smiled. It seemed that fate was giving him another chance to make Monique a part of his life, and the big question was just what he was going to do about it. He could tell from the way she’d mentioned her deceased husband that she had loved the man and probably still did. Unfortunately, Lyle wanted to claim her and her heart.

He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and went out on the patio and sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him to think. He didn’t know the first thing about being one of those aggressive males who went after what he wanted. Lance was the one who’d eventually gotten his shit together to claim the heart of the woman he loved.

Lyle was a heart specialist. Of the three Montgomery brothers, he was considered the least outgoing. However, when it came to repairing hearts . . .

His smile widened as a number of possibilities formed in his head. He would not lose the woman he loved a second time. He would do what he did best—repair a person’s heart, and he fully intended to work on fixing up hers, starting tomorrow morning.

Shannon pulled her
car into the auto repair shop, determined to find out what was causing that consistent knocking sound she’d started hearing yesterday. She believed in keeping her car in top condition and fully intended to find out what was wrong with it. Since she made her home in Durham, North Carolina, she had driven to Hilton Head instead of flying in as Faith and Monique had done. She never liked airplanes, and although she had flown on quite a few, she avoided doing so whenever possible.

Besides, the drive had been rewarding, and once she got off the interstate to take U.S. Highway 278, the scenic four lanes that took you right over to the island, she had made the trip in six hours.

The cook at the diner where she’d eaten breakfast that morning had recommended this shop, saying it was the best on the island to repair sports cars. She glanced around but didn’t see anyone. And then she glanced at her watch. It was noon. Evidently the owner and workers were out to lunch.

She decided to sit and wait. She turned off the ignition and leaned back in her seat, lowered the volume on her radio and began thinking of her conversation with Faith and Monique a few nights ago.

She knew she hadn’t really shocked them by saying she would spend her summer going on a manhunt. From as far back as she could remember, she had been the most aggressive of the four when it came to showing interest in the opposite sex. She blamed it on her overly strict parents. They had raised her to be what they considered a “good girl,” and she had pleased them by always acting the role of obedient, humble, and easily controlled. But when she was out of their sight, it was a different story. She’d had a tendency to get buck wild.

And although over the years she could admit to having a fair amount of lovers, she didn’t consider herself promiscuous or easy. In fact, she was downright nitpicky when it came to letting a man in her bed. She had standards that she refused to lower and was not one to be swept away by sweet talk, a savvy walk, or a well-built body.

She had decided years ago after opening her eyes and acknowledging her parents’ mockery of a marriage that she would live the rest of her life as a single woman. Her father engaged in affairs like it was his God-given right to do so, and her mother was just as bad, taking on a series of lovers who were usually half her age. Yet, while out in public, they presented themselves as a loving couple: the highly educated, highly sophisticated, overly dignified, and wealthy Drs. Carmichael. Both were college professors at Yale who had made names for themselves in the academic world.

While growing up, she couldn’t wait until she was old enough to leave home and swore that she would return to her Connecticut hometown only for visits. She liked her teaching position at Duke University and was glad miles separated her from her parents. It was enough to see her father occasionally on CNN whenever he was called to flaunt his expertise on foreign policies or to watch her mother on various talk shows like
Oprah
, where she would give her expert opinion about the workings of the human mind.

A sound grabbed Shannon’s attention and made her look around. The sight she came upon had blood immediately rushing through her veins. A man dressed in a T-shirt and jeans was coming down the stairs from what looked like an apartment that was built over the garage. To say he looked sexy would be an understatement. He practically dripped sex appeal.

She closed her eyes and reined herself in. Hell, what was the matter with her? The man worked in a garage, for heaven’s sake, and he was not the type of person she should be attracted to. How many times had her parents drilled into her the importance of dating someone her equal, someone within her intellectual and academic class? A Carmichael dated only the best and, as far as her parents were concerned, that did not include blue-collar workers or someone who had not achieved a certain status in life—definitely not a person who got grease under his fingernails for a living. She dated doctors, lawyers, politicians, accountants, and so forth and so on. So her instant attraction to this guy was totally unacceptable, unexpected, but undeniably hot.

As if he heard her breathing hard, he turned and glanced over at her car. She wished he hadn’t done that. It was bad enough that he had a good-looking body, now his face actually had her licking her lips. Medium brown skin, dark eyes, clean-shaven head, nice set of ears, and a jaw in need of a shave ... and when he started walking over toward her car, it took all she had to hold her desire in check.

“May I help you?” he asked when he reached her car.

She swallowed. He had a nice voice, too. It practically caressed her skin. Oh yeah, this guy could help her in a number of ways, and all of them were too scandalous to think about right now. “My car.”

He raised a brow. A few moments later, he smiled and asked, “What about your car?”

Although he was smiling, a part of her could actually detect his restrained laughter. He was probably aware of what he did to women and even found it amusing. She didn’t like the thought of that one bit. That arrogance set her nerves on edge and gave her a measure of control she hadn’t had earlier. “It’s making a sound, and I want you to fix it. You are the owner of this place, right?”

“Excuse me.”

She glared at him. “You’re the owner?”

“No, I’m not the owner.”

“Then you must be one of the workers, so you’ll have to do.”

He was smart enough to move out of the way when she pushed her car door open. “My car is making a clicking sound, and I want you to find out what it is and fix it. And I would like to have it ready by this afternoon ,” she said, handing him the keys as well as her business card. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is,” he said, and again she thought she heard laughter in his voice. “I’m sure you want us to inform you what’s wrong with it as well as the cost before any repair work is done, right?”

“Of course. And you can reach me at that mobile number on my business card. I’ve already called for someone to come pick me up. Is there a place where I can wait for them to get here?”

He nodded toward a bench. “Yeah, over there.”

She saw the wooden bench was in an area where the sun was beaming straight down over it. “You don’t have an air-conditioned area where I can wait inside?”

“Yes, but I don’t have the keys to open it up. The owner is out to lunch.”

She huffed a breath, not liking his answer. “Fine, I’ll wait over there, then.”

Lucky for Shannon, at that moment Faith pulled up. Without saying anything else to the mechanic, Shannon quickly walked over to her friend’s car and got in.

“What took you so long?” she asked Faith, refusing to give in to temptation and glance back over at the mechanic as they pulled away.

“I stopped for gas. Remember I told you that I would.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot.” Although Shannon didn’t want to think about the mechanic, she had to admit he was a looker—a well-built looker. Her pulse raced, and she hated the thought of dealing with him again when she came later to pick up her car.

Adam Corbain couldn’t
help but grin as he watched the woman drive off in the car. She had to have been the snootiest yet most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Dark brown shredded hair fell to her shoulders, and her eyes had been the color of gingerbread. When she’d walked off, he had tried not to stare, but he hadn’t missed the generous curves showcased in the pair of shorts she was wearing.

She had tried looking down on him like he was a cockroach, but that was only after he detected that hot look of interest in her eyes. Sexual chemistry was hard to resist, and he had felt it the same moment she had, when their gazes first connected. And when she had given him her car keys and business card and their fingers had touched, he had actually felt her tremble, which sparked a need he’d ignored for the past six months. His desire for her had been just that spontaneous. In all his thirty-seven years, he had never experienced such a thing before. He glanced down at the business card in his hand.

Dr. Shannon Carmichael

Professor of English and American Literature

Duke University

“Hey, man, whose car is this?”

Adam turned around at the sound of his old friend’s voice. For as long as Adam could remember, Kent Scott was a person who loved tinkering with automobiles, so no one was really surprised after they’d graduated from high school that Kent went to college to obtain a degree in mechanical engineering. After working a few years designing cars for General Motors, he began his NASCAR career and earned the reputation of being both a high-performance mechanic and a fearless race car driver. However, the latter came to a screeching halt when he met and later married Lori. Now he was a family man and the owner of several profitable high-performance repair shops around the country. His clientele included sport figures and celebrities looking for classic cars to add to their collection.

“A woman brought it in,” Adam finally answered. “She heard a knocking sound and wants you to check it out.”

Kent raised a curious brow. “And she just left it here?” he asked, eyeing the sports car, a sleek and stylish Porsche.

Adam smiled as he handed him the keys and the business card. “Yes. She thought I was one of your mechanics.”

A grin flickered across Kent’s lips. “You, a mechanic? Not Mr. Ivy League graduate. Mr. Suave Attorney. How on earth could she assume such a thing?”

“Probably from the way I’m dressed, which wasn’t to impress,” Adam said, glancing down at himself. His jeans and his T-shirt had seen better days.

Shaking his head, Adam walked over to the car he had been about to work on before he’d noticed Ms. Carmichael sitting in the parked car. In a way, it was kind of comical that for the next month or so he would be just what Shannon Carmichael thought he was. A mechanic.

Kent had contacted him a few months ago, letting him know he’d located a 1969 Pontiac GTO, and that all it needed was a little work. “A little work” to Kent meant a lot of work to anyone else. So Adam took a month’s leave from the family law office in Memphis to come to Hilton Head. And because he intended to spend the majority of his days and, in some cases, late into the night working on the vehicle, Kent suggested he occupy the empty apartment over the garage. Perfect.

So for one month he would shed the role of Adam Corbain, the cool, sophisticated, and suave Memphis attorney and become a man on a mission to restore what he considered as the beauty of all muscle cars. He intended to make the vehicle into nothing less than one hell of a commemorative collectors’ item that would be an added bonus to his five-car garage.

“So was she good-looking?”

Adam glanced over his shoulder. “Who?”

“The woman driving this set of wheels.”

Adam smiled. “You’re married, remember.”

“I wasn’t asking for myself but for you.”

Adam lifted the hood, not wanting to meet Kent’s eyes when he said, “She looked all right.”

“She drove this kind of car and just looked all right?”

Adam shrugged. “Couldn’t see just how good she looked for her uppity attitude.” Adam wished he could claim that her snobbish manner had been a turnoff, but in essence everything about Dr. Shannon Carmichael had been a total turn-on.

“Well, I’ll check out her car and see what’s wrong with it,” Kent said.

“She wants you to call her before any repairs are done.”

“Hey, that’s the way we do business around here. By the way, Lori wants you to come to dinner tonight. She’s grilling steaks.”

“Then count me in,” Adam said, smiling.

He couldn’t help listening when Kent started the engine on Shannon Carmichael’s car. A few minutes later, he called out to Kent and said, “Sounds like it could use a tune-up for starters.”

“Yes,” Kent joked, “maybe the same thing holds true for the woman who drives it.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come here to get involved with a woman. Don’t have the time. This baby here is the only thing that will be getting my attention over the next four weeks.”

“If you say so.”

“And I do,” Adam said before grabbing a wrench and beginning to work.

“
Are you sure
you don’t want me to wait on you?” Monique asked Shannon as she got out of the car.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Shannon told her. “The person who called said my car was ready, so all I have to do is pay for the repairs and leave. No big deal.”

Monique glanced around, and the first thing she noticed was that there weren’t any junky-looking cars all over the place. At least the place looked neat and clean. “All right, if you’re sure.” She then quickly asked, “You got your cell phone, right?”

Shannon grinned. “Yes, Mother, I have my cell phone.”

Monique aimed a
don’t play with me like that
smile at her friend. “Of all the people in the world, please don’t tell me I’m sounding like your mother.”

“But you are.”

“Okay, I get the message. I’ll see you back at the house.” She waved and drove off.

Shannon took a moment to thank her lucky stars that Monique had been the one to bring her to the auto shop and not Faith. No matter how she might have insisted, Faith would not have left her here alone. Shannon then glanced around. Well, she wasn’t alone exactly. It seemed the man from earlier was still there. His back was to her, and she couldn’t see his face since his head was stuck under the hood of an old beat-up-looking car. But she would recognize the lower part of him anywhere.

With every step toward him, she felt tension reaching its full height within her. What was there about this man, this mechanic who probably had no aspirations to be anything else, that was making her nervous? No,
nervous
wasn’t the right word.
Hot
was better.

The man who’d called to tell her how much the repair would cost and then again to let her know it was ready to pick up wasn’t this guy. They had exchanged few words, but she knew it wasn’t the same voice on the telephone,

He must have heard her footsteps because at that moment he pulled his head from underneath the hood of the car and turned. What she suddenly felt then was totally unexpected in one way, and not such a surprise in another. She stopped walking when his gaze slowly made its way down her body, and she all but suppressed a gasp. Her lower body started to sizzle in the intensity of his stare.