Free Attractive Nuisance (Legally in Love Book 1) by Jennifer Griffith Page A

town and out to restaurants, so just forget it.”
    Girlfriend! Girlfriend?
    Her head buzzed with the hum of a thousand chainsaws.
    Even as she slid into the passenger seat, she opened her mouth to protest. He pressed the door closed against her argument, a solid, German engineered sound. So infuriating! She tugged her pencil skirt down. It had risen way too many inches over her knee when she got in the car. Oh, she hoped Zane hadn’t seen and thought she’d been flashing leg at him. He could accuse her of harassment right back. And knowing him, he wouldn’t miss the chance at it.
    Huh. The passenger seat felt nice. Good support against her back. She sank into it. Wow, it really was nice to sit here and not have to worry about traffic or shifting while wearing platform sandals. She’d insisted on the manual transmission. It gave so much more of the driving experience. But in traffic, constant shifting became a pain—unless she wore boring shoes. And for work, she refused to wear any kind of driving moccasin. She needed the height. Short people could get overlooked or less respect in this business.
    Zane buckled his belt in the driver’s seat and cranked the engine, which came on so silently to a gentle whir, he leaned in toward the dash and double checked the instruments to make sure it was on. Camilla recognized the behavior. She’d done the same thing herself when she test drove it a few months ago.
    “For a ten year-old car, it sure hums softly.” He patted the dashboard—something Camilla did often—and jammed it into reverse. “Nice thing our dinner reservations are far from downtown. I’d like to open this thing up when we hit the straightaway.”
    Camilla adjusted the seat and tilted back. This had been a long day. A long three weeks, actually. As far as she could muster concern at this time of day, Zane could aim the car at the Pan-American Highway and wake her up when they hit Santiago, Chile. She let her eyes drift shut.
    Next thing she knew, gravel crunched under the tires. Her eyes flew open—at the same time as her heart clutched. Zane had run them off the road. Her car and her life could end wrapped around a piñon pine.
    “Glad you woke up. I thought I’d have to eat your prime rib myself.”
    “What? Prime rib?” She rubbed a hand up and down her cheek to wake up. “Where are we?”
    “This baby can take the curves, I tell you.” He brought the car to a stop in front of a dimly lighted cabin with a wraparound porch. Pines towered over it, and a hammock hung beside a porch swing. Lanterns dangled in the windows, and theirs was the only car. In a moment, he had her door open for her, and crickets’ songs filled her ears as wood-fired grill smoke filled her nose. “They usually close at eight, but Wyatt owed me a favor.”
    Camilla tottered in her platform heels over the loose gravel, stumbling once and having to grab Zane’s shoulder. Huh. It had quite a bit of substance. Dang it. She should not be noticing that. This was not a date. It was a working meal. They were here to discuss Zane’s findings of the day. And she could tell him the list of questions she’d compiled on the off chance they got to interview the suspect.
    Not. A date.
    “Wyatt?” Zane pushed open the wooden door to the cabin with a creak and leaned his head in. “You ready for us?”
    Down a wood staircase with a thick pine trunk banister polished to a golden yellow sheen flew a burly lumberjack of a man. His full beard bristled and his plaid shirt bulged. He’d clearly swung an ax and eaten his own share of prime rib a few times over. “Well, Zane Holyoake. As I live and breathe.” He came over and gave Zane the handshake-one-arm-man-hug, ending with a slap on the back. Zane gave one in return. Then Wyatt turned to Camilla. “You must be the date he’s trying to impress. He never brings the trampy girls up here. Just the ones with class.”
    Zane punched him hard in the arm. It didn’t look like it made a