Read Online Driving in Neutral by Sandra Antonelli - Free Book Online Page A

production documents. We needed someone to translate the German design simulation for an animated documentary.”
    Annoyed, Pete whistled. “We needed someone to translate the design simulation as well as interpret the schematics and the language, not just translate the words. Do you know the difference between a translator and an interpreter?”
    “I’m sure you’re about to tell me, Pete.” Emerson crossed his arms.
    “Oh, never mind. Forget all that now. Olivia raced before she started working for BMW as a test driver and automotive engineer. Did you see that part of her CV, the bit about working for BMW?”
    Emerson twitched a shoulder.
    “Really, Em, you should read stuff instead of waiting for Finn to fill you in ten minutes before a meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow. Dress casually, Liv, and thanks for being sporting enough to put up with this dumbass.” He kissed her cheek and clipped a fist into Emerson’s arm. “Say goodnight, dumbass.”
    “Keep calling me dumbass, Pete,” Emerson cocked his head to one side, “and you won’t get a goodnight kiss.”
    “Neither will you.” Pete started walking backward toward a red Jeep Wrangler.
    Emerson gestured, middle fingers on both hands extended.
    With a grin bright in his dark face, Pete climbed in the Wrangler and stuck the keys in the ignition. Olivia laughed again and turned to get in her car too.
    Emerson reached for the crook of her elbow. “Would you mind if I had a look inside before you got in?”
    “Knock yourself out,” she said and moved aside.
    Tech geek to the core of his soul, Emerson knew next to nothing about cars—beyond knowing how to change a tire and check the oil—but this white bit of British automotive technology appealed to the teenager inside him. It was sexy and he could appreciate that. Unfortunately, its compact size made it the type of car he would never consider owning or riding in. Regardless, he was curious. Hand on the headrest, he leaned in and checked out the car’s interior. “Is it a five speed?”
    “Yes. And it has electric windows too. Are you disappointed there isn’t a secret panel that pops up a bulletproof shield or dispenses an oil slick?”
    “No. It’s a nice car.” He propped himself against it, casually crossing his legs. “I like it.”
    “So what do you drive?” she said. “I assume something roomier, less claustrophobic.”
    While his thumb and forefinger stroked the point of his chin, Emerson looked at her sideways. “Guess.”
    “Something like that white Lexus IS 300 sedan over there.”
    “Are you sure I’m not the Cadillac or Mazda 6 kind of guy?”
    “Yep.”
    Pete shouted from the Jeep, “Hey, dickhead, let’s go!”
    Emerson ignored his friend. “Why’d you choose the Lexus?”
    The Aston Martin’s keys jingled as she twirled them on one finger. “I’d have picked a Mercedes C-Class or BMW 5 series. The Lexus there is the only car with a sunroof and you’re not the kind of man who has to try to compensate for anything. It’s the image that goes with your suits—but not that baseball shirt you’ve got on now. That says Ford Escort or Toyota hatchback.”
    A tsk sound passed through his teeth. “Okay, you got me. I own a Mercedes, a blue one, and it’s home in the garage. Until my knee heals, Pete’s my chauffeur. So what does your Goldfinger car say about you?”
    “Cars are better than diamonds.”
    “I thought diamonds were forever.”
    “So Shirley Bassey would have us believe.”
    Olivia didn’t know how Maxwell did it, but one amused quirk of his lips hauled her all the way back to the elevator that morning. She remembered the feel of his mouth on hers, warm, firm, expert. And then she wondered how he’d taste outside, in air scented by diner chili con carne and wet parking lot pavement. Would his chin whiskers rasp over her cheek? Would he get as hard as he had when she’d sat in his lap?
    Pete leaned on the Jeep’s horn and thank God, it stopped her from