visible under the rider’s open leather jacket. The second, when the visor flipped up, was that delicious don’t-you-want-me? smile. The voice—a warm summer breeze—came in a fatal third.
Pace Davis leaned back and revved his bike. “Actually, I wondered if you’d changed your mind about that lift?”
“You?” Her mouth opened and closed twice before she got another word out. “I didn’t know you rode a bike.”
He removed the helmet and rubbed the dark, daylong bristles framing his wry smile. “For a few years now.” He hitched forward. “Here…jump on.”
“I—I don’t double on bikes.”
“You mean don’t or never tried?”
An unbidden fire ripped through her system, and for one dizzy moment she imagined herself, novice thighs clinging to hot metal, arms gathering living granite, breasts crushed against comforting firm warmth. The mere thought of being that close to definitely-off-limits made her sway a little and lose her breath.
Cursing the blush rising in her cheeks, she hurried on. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I have a cab waiting.”
She gestured to…a vacant space.
Shifting her gaze, she spotted her taxi merging into the traffic with a passenger in the back seat. At this rate she’d never get home. Her attention slid back to Pace and her heartbeat thumped at his focused gaze. She shook her head slowly.
“This is not a good idea.”
“I’m not kidnapping you. It’s only a lift.”
Sure. That was why mischief was twinkling like rough diamonds in his eyes.
“Oh, come on,” he teased. “Live a little. I guarantee you’ll enjoy the ride. Bet my best wrench on it.”
Lateral thinking sent her head spinning at the prospect of winning this man’s prize tool.
Phoebe evaluated her attire…a cream bandage dress cut above the knee, five-inch gladiator sandal heels. How could she consider straddling that steed in this get-up?
A challenging smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Don’t think, Phoebe. Just do.”
Her gaze dropped from his entrancing blue eyes to his come-kiss-me lips. The smell of grease mingled with a hard day’s work and a faint tang of aftershave—something woodsy and distinctly memorable—and wrapped itself around her hypersensitive skin. Thoughts about possible embarrassment drifted away. He was right. She was overreacting. If she accepted this ride it would mean nothing more than a lift on a busy afternoon.
And yet she couldn’t help but look forward to clinging to his back, to moulding her hands over biceps that must be carved from rock. He would be so hot, so hard…more scrumptious than she’d ever dreamed.
Reading her mind, Pace widened his smile before he made the decision for her. Relieving her of the folder, he slid it into a slimline compartment on the bike’s side. Accepting the fact that every one of her marbles had suffered a major meltdown, Phoebe caught the spare helmet, took his hand, and swung a leg up and over the smooth seat behind the rider. The motor roared as he gunned the throttle and she set the strap under her chin.
“Now, hold on tight,” he said as the visor dropped into place. “Real tight.”
And she did, unable to hold back a whooping laugh as they shot out into a break in traffic.
Phoebe Moore could be summed up in two words.
SEX. EE.
Reaffirming that truth, Pace leaned his machine into a corner and sweet Phoebe cuddled in close. Feminine fingers clutched, warm thighs pinched, and firm breasts pushed. Smiling, he gunned the throttle for an extra burst of speed.
No contest. This woman grew more alluring each time they met. She was cute, though not ditsy. Sassy, yet kind of shy. Open, but not overbearing. Hell, she was a whole lot of things. In other words, he wanted her. And, despite driving him crazy with an impressive array of excuses, the truth of the matter sparkled in her eyes.
She wanted him too.
Pace deciphered Phoebe’s flailing arm directions and slid into a vacant space outside the well-situated northside apartment block. Slanting his long legs down to steady the stationary bike, Pace felt his heartbeat slip into third as Phoebe wiggled free of her mount. Smoothing down the skirt hitched up on those heavenly hips, she removed the helmet and shook out a satiny stream of pale blonde hair. He’d dreamed of that hair. Tonight he planned to touch it.
“Thanks for the lift.” Phoebe handed back the spare helmet with an exuberant smile. “I must admit…it was fun.”
A heavy throb condensed in the pit of his stomach at the thought of all the fun they would have.
He shot a casual glance around the mix of suburban weatherboards and trendy complexes huddled between towering gum trees. No graffiti. Buckets of kids. Nearby, someone had removed what smelled like a lamb roast from the oven.
“Nice neighbourhood,” he said, meeting her gaze again.
“I was lucky to get a place so close to the city that’s almost reasonable in rent.” She nodded at the adjacent park. “There’s barbecue areas and swings close for families. Alfresco restaurants and a mall down the road, too. It’s a good combination. Pretty and full of possibilities.”
Drinking her smile in, Pace felt his blood simmer.
It certainly is.
Bringing himself back, he glanced over his shoulder. “We passed a Japanese restaurant on the way in.”
Phoebe’s eyes flashed with approval. “I eat there all the time. It’s the freshest in town. Their rainbow rolls are to die for and—” She stopped, her head tilting as though she were embarrassed or disappointed with herself. “Sushi isn’t everyone’s favourite.”
“I’m an atmosphere man,” he confirmed. “If the service is good, lighting right and the company special…” He pictured them in a darkened corner, touching, kissing, and eased into a grin. “Well, I’m usually on my way to being satisfied.”
Her eyebrows gradually knitted. “Satisfied…” she murmured, then, “I can imagine you’d want to be.”
Pace frowned. The luminance in her glittering jade gaze was fading, eclipsed by that familiar, infuriating restraint. When she took a step back on those sexy heels, as if yanked by an imaginary lead, he almost spilled off his bike.
“You’re leaving?”
“I’ve kept you long enough.” She smiled her dimpled smile and turned away. “Thanks for the lift.”
As she swept up the paved steps, disappearing into the building without a backward glance, Pace grinned to himself. If she wanted to play impossible to get, he’d simply get more inventive. He liked a challenge. In fact, he’d been raised on them.
And he always won.
Well,
