swinging his leg over the seat and standing in front of her. Placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him, he took hold of the straps on either side of the helmet and fastened them, adjusting the fit, his warm fingers grazing her throat repeatedly. He pushed her visor up and tilted her head so he could peer in at her. “How does it feel?”
Oh, baby. Did he mean the helmet or his touch?
Don’t be ridiculous. Of course he’s talking about the helmet.
“Tight. Hot.”
His Adam’s apple dipped, and he stared at her for a moment, before answering. “It’s supposed to be snug.”
His voice was a little rougher than it had been a moment ago. Had she said something stupid? Or maybe he was having second thoughts about riding with her. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
He gave a low laugh. “I thought so up until a few seconds ago.”
“How long will it take to reach the hospital?”
“Depending on traffic, about fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
He nodded, handing her the second jacket and waiting until she’d zipped it up. His warm scent clung to the leather, and it was all she could do not to close her eyes and breathe it deep into her lungs. The fact that it was there, surrounding her, gave her a dose of courage that had been sorely missing a few seconds ago. He’d promised to take care of her, and Brad had never gone back on a promise that she knew of.
Getting back on the motorcycle, Brad pushed it forward and eased up the kickstand. “There are footrests just behind mine. So climb up and hang on.”
Tightening her resolve, she walked the couple of steps it took to reach him then steadied herself by putting a hand on his shoulder. Pretending she was mounting a horse, she swung her leg over the back of the seat, trying to sit as far back as possible—which proved impossible. The thing was angled so that she slid forward until her tummy was pancaked against his back.
This was going to be the longest fifteen minutes of her life.
“Can you hear me?” The low voice in her ear made her jerk, until she realized it was coming through her helmet. Brad must have some kind of built-in walkie-talkie system that let him communicate with whoever was on the back.
He’d ridden double like this before. Often enough to buy special helmets. Why did the thought make a warning hiss go off in her head?
“Chloe?”
She forced her lips to move. “I can hear you.”
“There should be a mike below the strap. Swing it up to the front.”
Finding a hard plastic object coming off the side of the helmet, she adjusted it so that it was in front of her mouth. “Better?”
“Yep.” He rolled the motorcycle forward a few feet and Chloe scrambled to put her hands on his waist. “When we start moving, you’re going to want to hang on tighter than that, okay?”
Tighter than she already was? She felt like her fingers were digging into the firm muscles of his sides as it was. “Got it.”
Feeling around for the footrests, she planted her feet on them, just as Brad turned a key and the motorcycle rumbled to life beneath her. With the helmet on, it wasn’t nearly as loud as she’d expected it to be.
“Okay. When the garage door opens, we’ll be on our way. Keep your feet up, even at stops, and lean into the turns.”
“Check.” She couldn’t stop a little giggle. She knew he had to instruct her on how to ride, but she’d never dreamed that three days after her disastrous trip to Travis’s hotel room she’d be on her way to a new job and the start of a new life. Even the shuddery fear she felt about riding with Brad couldn’t erase her elation. This was the right decision. She felt it in her bones.
The garage door to the apartment building slid up, and Brad revved the engine and rolled through them at a reasonable speed. Nothing like the showy skids and hot-dogging he’d once done to impress the high-school girls. Still, her heart jumped into her throat as he turned left and entered the morning snarl of traffic—the sounds of car engines and buses periodically rupturing the bubble of silence created by her helmet.
On the first real turn she instinctively wrapped her arms around Brad’s waist, realizing he was right. She needed to hold on and try to lean when he did. The best way to do that was to be physically connected to him, in much the same way as she’d moved with the horse she’d had years ago. Her hips slid forward even more, pressing intimately against him, her thighs squeezing his in order to maintain her balance. Every inch of her was aware of every inch of him. At first she put it down to basic survival instinct, but that weird tingle down low had nothing to do with survival.
Then Brad turned another corner, wiping away every thought except hanging on, probably much tighter than necessary.
During the first few minutes she was too afraid to move, but once she got used to the vibration from the engine beneath her and the easy way Brad handled the big bike, she began to loosen up a bit and enjoy the ride.
They stopped for a red light. Brad’s feet hit the ground to keep them stable, and Chloe drew in a deep breath, noticing the claustrophobia she’d felt earlier was almost gone.
“You okay back there?”
“So far, so good. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” It wasn’t quite a lie.
A soft laugh came through. “And I never thought I’d see the day when Chloe Jenkins would agree to ride on my bike.”
A reference to her refusal years ago? She smiled, her heart lightening for the first time. “The times are a-changin’.”
“Hmm. Want to learn to ride one?”
Her stomach did a back flip. “Yeah, well, the times aren’t changing that much. I think I’m going to stick with being a passenger. A bad one.”
He reached back to squeeze her leg. “You’re doing great.”
The light turned green, and Brad revved the engine enough to take off. Her arms instinctively wrapped around him once again, the fingers of her left hand gripping her other one in a vise. It was better than having her palms splayed across his rock-hard abs—a position that seemed far too intimate. Sure, they’d horsed around when they’d been younger and had done plenty of touching. But this was different, although Brad didn’t seem affected by it at all.
Despite the concern he’d shown on the night of her arrival, he’d soon reverted to type, viewing the world through a lens of amused cynicism.
Although traffic was bumper to bumper, they were moving at a fairly steady pace and before she knew it they’d cleared Central Park, where green gave way to a pristine white building. Even from her perch Chloe could see the hospital off to their left. “Is there underground parking?”
“There is for our patients. There are a couple of lots near the hospital where we can park, which is what I do on the days I drive to work.”
“Isn’t
