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?”