Alana startled and tore her gaze away from Beverly’s arms, embarrassed to be caught staring as the agent shrugged off her maroon leather jacket and laid it over the seat of her motorcycle.
Beverly smirked. Alana willed herself not to blush.
“I asked if you knew what’s wrong with your car.”
“No, not really. I know how to fix minor car issues, but I have no clue what’s wrong. Hence, uh,” Alana waved awkwardly between her car and Beverly’s motorcycle, parked on the side of the interstate where Beverly had found her on the way to work.
Beverly came around to the front of the car, where the hood was already propped open. It was smoking faintly. She clicked her tongue. “That’s not a good sign.” She leaned forward, resting her palms against the body of the car, and Alana’s eyes strayed almost involuntarily back to her biceps, strong and tanned.
Beverly caught Alana staring and winked. “Let’s see what’s under the hood, shall we?”
Alana was definitely blushing now as arousal surged through her from the subtle innuendo. It was going to be a long morning...but she couldn’t say she wasn’t looking forward to it.