THREE

“Let’s just leave it at Mother Nature’s fault,” Jon said, remembering the slow skid that he’d driven into. He’d have been fine if she hadn’t been on the other side of the road. But she was right. He’d slid over the line and going thirty had been enough to cause some serious damage to her car. He knew he should have taken the SUV.



“Insurance doesn’t care if it’s ice,” she folded her arms again. “You went over the line,” she said matter of factly.



He held up a finger as the tow guy finally picked up the ringing phone. “Hey, Jeff, it’s Jon.”



“Jon who?” he asked with little interest.



“Jonny B, you asshole.”



Realization and genuine pleasure soaked his baritone voice. “Jesus, Jon, what the fuck did you do now?”



“I decided a week before Christmas was far too boring, so I had to shake things up a little.”



A man’s big booming laugh barked out of the speaker and Bella raised both eyebrows. Jon just smiled back at her. “Jeff, I need a favor.”



“Better be an easy one. Both my guys are already out towing.”

“Looks like you’re up then.”



“Aw fuck, Jonny, you know I don’t go out on calls no more. That’s why I had kids.”



“I got a pretty lady out here freezing her,” he paused when Bella gave him a bland stare. “Butt off,” he finished. “We got into a small accident.” He rushed on when he heard Jeff begin to bluster. “No injuries except to the Chevelle and her pretty little Pony.”



“Classic?” Jeff asked with his first hint of interest.

“Brand new.”



“Fiberglass POS,” Jeff muttered. He sighed, “All right, I’ll bring the flatbed out and get you both.”



Jon’s eyes quickly scanned over the woman since she wasn’t paying attention to him. Black suede boots wrapped their way up her calves over skin tight leggings. The rest of her was buttoned into the knee length red coat, so he had no idea if she was curvy or thin. Hoping for curvy, he focused his attention on the phone call and gave Jeff the address. “Can you haul my Stingray out of your storage unit? I’ll have to use that to go to my kid’s recital.”



“Fuck, Jonny, this weather is shit for that toy car. I’ll bring the truck.”



Jon rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever, just get over here.”



“You still owe me for the last tow.”



“Christ, Jeff!”



“Just kidding, Jonny, I know you’re good for it. Besides, I’ll just turn you over and shake the money loose if I have to. That is if I can get it out of those tight pants of yours.”



Jon clicked his phone shut against the booming laugh. “Jeff will be here in a bit.” He twisted his wrist and swore. “Good thing Jake’s class is second to last.” He opened the phone again.



Bella wandered back to her car and tried not to look at the damage. Not wanting to cause anymore harm she gingerly opened the door and got her purse and gloves out of the car.



Disgusted with the needle-like rain/snow combination in the headlights, she flicked them off to conserve her battery. She walked back to him and took a few steps back at the cool tone of his voice.



“I did not do this on purpose, Dot.” He was turned away from her and she couldn’t stop her eyes from following the line of his neck and shoulders encased in the fine wool coat. His hair was artfully mussed in one of those cuts that probably cost a thousand dollars. And while she was used to the pretentious nature of New Yorkers, she didn’t think he was the type to worry about what he looked like all the time. Whether it was the unconscious athleticism of his body without the posturing, or how her nerve endings came alive each time he pushed his fingers through the short dark strands, she didn’t know. All she knew is that it had been a very long time since any man had even caused a glimmer of awareness in her, let alone a tingle like Jon.



She caught him clutching his phone in a fisted hand before he tucked it back into his jeans. She gave him a small smile as he came back her way. “Wifey looking for you?”



“Ex,” he said tightly. His smile lost its personality and she missed the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Let’s just hope Jeff gets here soon.”



Jamming her hands into her gloves she folded them in front of her. “Are you going to miss it?”



“No, Jake’s class has a few more before them.”



She felt the mood shift and tried to draw him back into the conversation. She wasn’t sure why she bothered. They’d be going their separate ways in a few minutes, but she liked the way he talked. Liked the way he paid attention. “Impressive that they make all those kids wait around,” she said conversationally.



“Idiotic,” he muttered and jangled his phone against his keys in his pocket.



“No, it teaches them patience.”



Jon’s lips curled into an easy grin laced with parental knowledge. “Yeah well, Jake takes after me.”



She tucked her gloved hands into the crook of each elbow for warmth and was a little too happy to see the twinkle back. “Not your strong suit?”



“My cross to bear,” he corrected and winked.



“Mine’s bad luck,” she said ruefully.

He laughed. “So we’ve got an unlucky chick and an impatient-“

She cut him off, “Rockstar.”

He shook his head and flattened his amazing mouth with impatience. “I’m not a Rockstar, that’s just what I do. I’m a man. A parent, that’s late for his kid’s recital. That’s all I am.”

Conscious of the button she’d inadvertently pushed she quickly changed the subject. “Well, I’m a writer. It certainly defines me.”

“Ahh, there we can agree. I’d rather be labeled a songwriter than Rockstar.”

Curious about his attitude, she was tempted to push him on it, but deciding it wasn’t any of her business she launched into a bit of small talk about the creative process. It turned out they had far more in common than she’d have ever thought possible. They both had their quirks about writing and a stack of superstitions. But best of all they were on even ground when it came to feedback.

They lived for it.

Even more than the performing in front of his sold out crowds, Jon enjoyed the little sessions of musicians and jamming out ideas. Intrigued, she moved in a little closer. “Any chance that’s going to happen soon?”

Jon lifted an eyebrow. Just where was she going with that? He watched her eyes sparkle, even in the semi-darkness.

Knowing she was far too interested, she pushed on. She’d had an idea for a musician vampire in one of her books. She wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing that he’d just manifested into an angular faced, blue eyed, dark haired man. She’d always been interested in the dynamics of a musician, even with her tin ear. “I’d love to watch.”

Forcing himself not to go deep into the gutter with that one, he cleared his throat. “Watch what?”

Bella smirked, playing right into his teasing. “Your session.”

Jon smirked right back. “I’ve called it a session a time or two. Especially when it runs three or four hours.”

Bella had to swallow deep this time. Hell. That’s not right. “I meant with your guitar and a writing pad.”

“Well, Izzy, to be honest I’ve never done it with my guitar on, but I’m game.”

Each time he altered her name, his voice got a little lower, a little more gravelly. Enjoying the roll of heat that bloomed in her belly she let herself fall into the game of flirting. What did she have to lose? He’d be out of her life in a few minutes anyway. “Good thing you’re charming, Slick.”

“Well I went from asshole to charming in the space of thirty minutes,” he rocked back on his heels. “I still got it.” He buffed his nails against his coat.

Bella snorted, but was saved from further conversation as his friend pulled up in a monster sized tow truck. Jon came up beside her and held a hand to her back to move her out of the way.



Even through her thick wool coat, her body buzzed in reaction to his small touch. For a moment she forgot he was behind her as the big man stepped out of the truck. A full cinnamon beard with white handlebars down his chin dominated his face. Red suspenders, work pants in a mechanic’s blue stretched around his more than healthy waist. Even with the stinging icy rain, he wasn’t wearing a coat and his big black t-shirt stretched across his barrel chest read: I taught your girlfriend that thing you like.



Coughing back a laugh she waited as he unchained the truck from the back end and tossed Jon the keys. “You owe me,” he paused for effect, “again.” Glancing her way, he tipped the brim of his battered ball cap. “Evenin’ Ma’am.”



She gripped her purse. His tone said teddy bear but his demeanor said Hell’s Angels. “Thanks so much for coming out to help us.”



His face split into a huge white toothed grin, with icicles clinging to his mustache. “If Jonny’d mentioned you were gorgeous, I’d have moved faster.”



Bella smiled, instantly at ease. “I still appreciate it.”



Jon’s arm tightened along her back before he stepped back. “Thanks, Jeff.” He leaned forward and shook his hand. “A case of Jamison will be under your tree.”



His big hands rubbed together as his chest puffed out. “Now we’re talkin’.”



Bella looked down at her boots and up to the cab of the large tow truck and gave an inward groan. “Well you go and get to that recital. I’ll head back with Jeff.” She slipped her card out of her purse and held it out to him. “Just let me know how you want to do the statement tomorrow.”



“Oh you’re not going with Jeff. Ever seen a school play, Izzy?”

TWO

Amused at the ice in her tone instead of annoyed, he laughed. “No, I just have a lot of old cars that need TLC.”

She crouched down next to her Mustang. “Well, mine needs major surgery not just a little buff and polish.” She patted it, “Sorry, Janie.”

Jon’s smile widened. “Janie, huh?”

Bella sighed, “Janie.”

“Well I don’t think we need to give her last rights just yet.” He flipped open his phone and swallowed a smile when she gave a dramatic sigh. “Hi, there’s been an accident at the corner of,” he paused and rattled off the street they were on. “No one was hurt, but we’ll need a police officer for insurance purposes.”



“Sir, with the storm, all available officers are busy. We’ll get to it when we can, but you should seek an alternate means or call a tow truck and handle the report tomorrow.”



She listened as Jon spoke to the dispatch person and inwardly groaned. She could hear most of the conversation even with the wind howling. They were too busy. That was just great.



Jon clipped his phone shut and tucked it into his jeans. “I have my camera in the car, why don’t we take photos?”

Her eyebrow arched, “You just happen to have your camera?”



He smiled, “Actually I was off to see my kid’s recital and take video and pictures like a good dad.”



Bella winced this time. “I’m sorry. Are you terribly late?”



“No, I was early for once.” He went back to his car and grabbed the large Olympus with the telephoto lens. “I’ll call my ex-wife and let her know I’ll be a few minutes late.”



Bella folded her arms, tucking her fingers into the opposite sleeve to keep warm. She hadn’t been aware he’d been divorced. She didn’t know much about him, other than the fact that he still looked pretty amazing even well into his forties. She listened to their music a little, but wouldn’t call herself a rabid fan. But she did remember snippets of interviews here and there on network TV that mentioned the perfect marriage.



It was probably all image anyway. She watched as he took careful photos from all sorts of angles and felt marginally better when he gave a genuine groan at her crumpled front end and flat tire from impact.



He turned and took a few shots of his own vehicle but the muscle car barely showed damage except for some paint and a few dents. He looked at her ruefully. “Good thing about old cars is that they are rarely made of fiberglass.”



Bella buried her chin into the matching scarf to her hat. “Yeah well, as much as I enjoy a nice Chevy, that Mustang has been a goal for a good long time. Figures that my goal would end in disaster. Talk about story of my life.” She grinned, “Not as optimistic as your lyrics, huh?”



“We all have our good and bad days Miss Jordan.”



She untucked her hand and held it out. “And accident definitely allows for first names. Call me Isabella.”



Jon reached for her hand and enjoyed her cool, soft touch. And when the extra zing flared he smiled, letting his touch linger. “Well, Izzy, I’m Jon.” He enjoyed her flare of temper and lack of flitting fan stammering.



“Isabella or Bella,” she said with an almost pleasant smile.



“Sure, Izzy, whatever you say.”



She tugged her hand away. Contrary man. “Well, I guess it’s time to call Triple-A.”



He dug out his phone again. “Nah, I got a guy.”



“I don’t need your guy.” Exasperated she stalked to her car. She dug into her purse and found her palm pilot and her AAA card. She turned and he was there.



“Look, no offense. I’m not throwing my name around or anything, Izzy. It’s just that discretion is a lot easier than dealing with an overworked Triple A guy. Not to mention that with the storm it’s going to take forever to get a tow here.”



She peered into the quickly darkening sky. Snowflakes were being replaced with the biting ice that had been promised on the news that morning. “Alright, Rockstar, work a little magic.”



Jon felt that peculiar tightening in his belly again. Magic. Hell. He scanned through his numbers until he found the tow truck he’d used just the week before. He was beginning to think he had a spot of bad luck following behind his Chevelle. He’d replaced the head gasket last week and now he’d need a good chunk of body work.



He waited for Jeff to answer and gave her a half smile.



She gave him the same smile back, “Let’s just be clear, it was your fault.”

ONE

Isabella Jordan slammed her car door. “Are you kidding me?!” She rounded the car and forced down a horrified scream. Her baby. Her beautiful, just off the showroom floor Mustang was...She couldn’t even say it out loud. The perfectly blended cherry color that she’d special ordered was now crumpled up like a foil gum wrapper.

Blue flecks of paint littered the ground and made an angry slash along the side panel that hadn’t been crushed. She turned around to the driver that had totaled her baby and growled when she saw the dark haired man with a phone to his ear, still behind the wheel.

“This is what happens when assholes are on the phone instead of paying attention to the road,” she said as she stalked over to the man. She opened the door and grabbed the slim, silver phone and snapped it shut. “Ever heard of a hands free device? Or hey, maybe not being on the phone when you’re driving?”

“Excuse me?”

His voice oozed disdain. She tipped her head to the side, pushing her wildly blowing curls away from her face. “I’m sorry, do you only understand words if they come out of your cell phone?”

He climbed out of the car, catching himself against the door frame as his boots slid on the icy road. All she saw was wide shoulders and a lean waist before he reached into the backseat for his coat. When he turned around, dark hair threw her off for a moment, but the face was undeniable.

“Oh super,” she said as she got a good look at the man. The sky was just starting to melt from the bleary winter grey into the first stages of night. “Why do I have to get hit by a Rockstar?” she moaned.

His eyebrow rose, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets against the blast of wind. Only in New Jersey would he be insulted for being who he was. “And this is a bad thing, why?”

“Tell me you have insurance,” she said with a hollow sigh.

His eyes followed his cell phone clutched in her hand in exasperation. Jon quickly buttoned up his long grey coat and turned the collar up against the cold. “Even if I didn’t, you would be taken care of. Can I have that back?”

She pulled a fuzzy white hat from her pocket and tugged it over the riot of wheat and cornsilk colored curls. “Right,” she said snidely and pushed the hat back enough so she could look up at him. Snowy lashed brown eyes glared at him accusingly.

Jon frowned. What had she asked? He reached for his phone, but she snatched it back with a sneer. Just his luck he would get in a car accident with a crazy person. “Look, Ms-“

“Jordan,” she huffed. “Isabella Jordan.”

“Ms. Jordan,” her name crammed itself into his overactive brain. Cool, exotic, and feisty—none of those words should have gone together but they suited her. The creamy skin and blonde hair should have blue eyes to finish off the Nordic package, instead she had slightly tilted eyes in a brown so deep they drew him in a step closer. When she took a step back from him, his voice dropped to a growl.

She was holding his phone hostage and ranting at him, why the fuck was he giving her the once over? He folded his arms against the cold and the insane need to get closer to her. “I do have insurance and I was on the phone with them when you snatched my phone out of my hand.”

She frowned, then looked down at her hand. It was still warm and the nicks and grooves in it told her it was well used, reinforcing her earlier claim. “If you hadn’t been on it, none of this would have happened.” Instead of giving it back, she tucked it into her coat pocket.

“Are you kidding me, here?”

“I’ll just hold onto it until we figure out insurance if it’s all the same to you.”

He fisted his hands into his hair finally noticing the debris lining the ice encrusted road. Instead of strangling the crazy blonde, he slowly circled her car and winced. He knew a custom paint job when he saw one.

The blue of his Chevelle was as custom as it came, so he understood why she was in a snit. His gut clenched as she slowly drew her gloveless hand down the line of the quarter panel that looked like one of his kid’s crashed up Matchbox cars. Her fingers were unadorned save for a wide silver band on her middle right finger. “I wasn’t on the phone.”

She stood up straight, her eyes flat as onyx. “You certainly were.”

Unwilling to fight about it he continued, “I wasn’t,” he interrupted when she opened her mouth to argue. “If you hadn’t noticed it’s freezing rain right now.”

“Really?” She lifted her palms to the rain that was just starting to change over to snow. “I wish you’d been that observant before you creamed my car.”

“I--”

Exasperated, Bella put her face in her hands for a second and drew in a deep breath. “I haven’t even had her for a full weekend.” God, she sounded so whiney, but dammit…her baby.

Jon winced. Please God, don’t cry. “I’m sorry. If it helps, I know the best body work guy in the business.”

“Because you crack up cars so often, Mr. Bon Jovi?”