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help. I really appreciate it.”
    Mike’s face lit up when Cole stepped back with a nod. “I helped? Really?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, glad to do it, man.” He turned to Sarah. “Like I told you, ma’am, you don’t gotta worry about a thing. Cole’s the best. He’ll take care of you.”
    “That’s fine for my car, but what about me?” She struggled to keep a childish whine out of her voice. This wasn’t part of the plan. She was supposed to leave tonight. “Where am I supposed to stay tonight?”
    “You can stay here,” Cole said.
    Mike let out a low whistle. “That certainly beats the old roach motel by the highway.”
    Roach motel? Like any New Yorker, Sarah shuddered at the mere mention of the disgusting scurrying insects, even though Mike was likely exaggerating.
    Wasn’t he?
    Mike continued, seemingly oblivious to the impact of his words. “Cole’s got an awesome place above the garage here.” He pointed over their heads. “Jimmie stayed there once, right?” he asked Cole. “And Junior?” Cole nodded and the other man shook his head. “Damn.”
    If Mike’s words were meant to impress her they fell short of the mark, as Sarah had no idea who those men were. She didn’t care if George Washington himself had slept there—it was the presumed lack of roaches that sealed it for her.
    The fact that it was Cole’s place they were talking about was irrelevant, of course.
    Mike’s departure forestalled any more questions. After a round of backslapping and high fives, promises of beers and a “catchya later”, he headed out the door.
    Mike was almost at the truck when Sarah called out to him. He turned, looking surprised. She waved at the Porsche. “Thanks. For rescuing me and my car.”
    The man smiled and red stained his cheeks. He touched his ball cap. “Pleasure, ma’am.” He hoisted himself into the tow truck. With the crunch of gravel and a final horn, he was gone.
    They were alone—her, Cole and the cars. And she was staying the night.
    Sarah cleared her throat. “Thanks for giving me a place to stay. I mean, the guest room sounds great.”
    Cole nodded, back under the car. “No problem.”
    In spite of her decision, Sarah couldn’t deny the prick of disappointment. If their attraction was mutual, wouldn’t he want her to stay a bit…closer?
    It’s for the best.
    Except for the ping of metal against metal the garage was silent. Perhaps she should get her laptop out of her bag and try to do some work—
    “So, what made you decide to get a car like this?”
    Sarah started, then exhaled unsteadily. Conversation. Small talk. She could do this.
    “You mean since I obviously know nothing about cars?” She shrugged. “I liked the way it looked, the way it felt when I took it for a test drive. Everyone expected me to get a Beemer when my big raise came through, but I wanted something with real power, not just a pretty thing.” She could hear a touch of bitterness creep into her voice. “I had fantasies of speed and freedom. Just me and the open road.”
    “And?” His attention was focused on the car, but Sarah thought she heard genuine interest in his question.
    “I’m lucky if I can get out of the office before nine p.m., forget about getting out of the city. This trip was a fluke. We wrapped a case up early and”—she coughed and turned away to hide her heated blush—“I had a medical reason.”
    He looked up this time, but she made a show of examining the blue-and-yellow racecar. Eager to change the subject, she said the first thing that came to mind. “I see you like racing.”
    Real clever, Sarah.
    Cole put down the long-handled metal thing and reached for something smaller but also metal and as unfamiliar as almost everything else in the room. “It’s a passion.”
    Sarah could feel the truth behind those simple words. The man clearly loved his work. When was the last time she’d felt that way? “Do you work on all kinds of cars, or just the really fast