Every Girl’s Secret Fantasy by Robyn Grady

By SMW Staff

A wickedly sexy rebel – with a secret…Mechanic Pace Brodrick has stepped straight out of prim Phoebe’s wildest fantasy – oil-slicked and dangerously sexy, he’s her perfect Mr Right Now!

Phoebe’s been long overdue some excitement – and Pace’s wicked smile guarantees she’ll have the thrill of her life! Then Pace discovers the temptress behind Phoebe’s good-girl facade! She drives him wild – but will she want their fling to last for ever when she discovers Pace has been lying to her all along? For this bad boy is actually a secret millionaire…

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An Excerpt of “Every Girl’s Secret Fantasy”
Knees gone weak, Phoebe Moore drank in the sight of two bronzed arms angling down over a well-packed T-shirt and large masculine hands raising its black interlock hem. Unaware of his company, the man dragged the shirt up over his head. At the same time Phoebe’s throat thickened and her mouth went bone-dry. After a criminally toned abdomen and broad chest were revealed, he bunched the shirt into a ball and set about towelling all that premium meat and muscle.

Phoebe released a quivering sigh.

No wonder Brodricks Prestige Cars’ slogan was “The Thrill of Your Life”.

Dynamic, charming, all gloriously packaged in the body of a sex god, the man in question—the delectable Pace Davis—was Brodricks’ lead technical adviser and resident chief mechanic. That chest, those jeans… The vision standing before her was enough to reduce Phoebe to a creamy puddle. But the best part—as well as the worst—was his sultry air of mystery. The three times she and Pace had met he’d seemed interested in details of her life, but had been curiously elusive about his own.

She could guess why.

At the far end of the otherwise deserted Sydney workshop, Pace swiped the shirt down one trunk of an arm and up the other. As he gave his delectably dewy chest another chamois, sensing a presence, he glanced over and gifted her a smile—a particularly sensual lopsided grin. Air eased from Phoebe’s lungs as, moving to join her, Pace ruffled his inky-black hair into a tousled style.

That was how he’d look in the mornings, she decided, hugging her clip-folder close. Slightly dishevelled and completely desirable.

When the heat racing through her veins pooled and contracted low in her belly, Phoebe hauled herself back and drew up tall. Time to remember how late she’d stayed up the previous night making that list—her dare-to-be-bold, nothing-left-out wish list. The first point was underlined in red:

Reclaim my sexuality… Find Mr Right Now!

In one sense, dreamy Pace Davis was the perfect candidate. The friction that zapped between them would explode like two sticks of lit dynamite if they ever transferred their physical attraction to the bedroom. But taking that plunge with Pace would never happen, and for three very good reasons.

Phoebe tried to remember those reasons now, as Pace’s electric blue gaze combed her shoulders, her hips, while that mouthwatering bare chest rolled to a stop a mere foot away. His eyes locked on hers, and his square jaw shifted before that rich, deep voice rumbled out.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Phoebe Moore.” His brows swooped together. “But wait…there’s something different about you.”

Phoebe’s face flushed hot. Different? Was it the spot on her chin?

“It’s there in your eyes,” he went on, and that wicked smile curved his mouth again. “It’s finally happened. You’ve had a change of heart and want me to take you home.”

Perhaps it was that honey-over-gravel voice, the smouldering intensity in his eyes, or the basic shocking truth in that line that almost undid her. Actually, it was all three—but no way would she tell Pace Davis that.

The first and biggest reason she wasn’t going there with Pace was due to the fact they knew each other through work. After a failed office affair, Phoebe was acutely aware of the pitfalls that could follow mixing business with pleasure. Pace Davis, on the other hand, suffered no such reservation. On the first night they’d met, at a sponsorship cocktail party, he’d been dressed in a tuxedo and with seduction on his mind. He’d let her know with his eyes and subtle gestures that he wanted her. More to the point, he intended to have her. It was simply a matter of time.

Or so he thought.

Finding her strength, Phoebe lifted her chin. “No change of heart, Pace.” She managed a casual shrug. “I don’t think you’re what I need right now.”

Tipping close, his warm breath stirred her hair. “Wouldn’t it be fun to find out for sure?”

When he rocked back, sexual awareness tugged her along like the drag from the Starship Enterprise. But Phoebe dug in her heels and reminded herself of the second reason she refused to cross that line with this near irresistible man.

Aside from Brodricks Prestige Cars having corporate connections with Goldmar Studios, the production house she worked for, Pace was a player…the kind of instinctively seductive male who didn’t need to brag about his exploits but made no excuses for pursuing and then enjoying what he caught. The night they’d met he’d been lapping up the company of a gaggle of admiring women. She’d bet the only reason he’d lost interest in the others and set his sights on her was because she hadn’t batted her lashes and immediately fallen at his feet. The second time they’d met, at a similar function, it had been the same story. Lots of women hanging off his every word. Pace in his element. That was evidence enough for her.