“You look like you need some water,” he said.
She sat back down on the booth bench. “A cup of tea might help clear my head.”
Beck raised his hand and flagged down the waitress. “A tea and some water, please.”
“Then let me get a cab,” Jan said.
He shook his head. “That would be too convenient.” His irritated stare let her know in no uncertain terms he was no happier about this than she was. So why had he offered? “I think you’re overdue for a ride on my chopper.” A punishing smile thinned his lips.
Jan found it hard to sip tea through a locked jaw, especially with Beck sitting across from her, glaring.
“What?” she challenged.
“What do you mean, what?” He played dumb, but never broke his stare.
“We both know you’ve got an axe to grind with me.”
He crossed a foot on his knee and continued to bore a hole into her head with his stare. “So true.”
She defied him, refusing to look away, and drank more tea, though it burned all the way down. His long fingers tapped rhythmically on the tabletop. She took another punishing sip. He cleared his throat.
“You know, it’s customary when people say they love each other to keep in touch when one goes away.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a traditionalist, Beck. I thought you couldn’t get out of Atwater fast enough.”
It hurt like hell to be flippant, but she had no choice tonight. Now wasn’t the time or place to sort out their differences. She’d made her choice years ago and he couldn’t find out about her secret. Not tonight. Not ever. Not if she could help it.
“We had an agreement, January.”
“Too bad, so sad, guess I broke it.”
Beck went completely still. Warning cold serpent eyes sent a chill slithering down her spine. “That’s garbage and you know it. Level with me. Your mother sent you away, didn’t she?”
She vehemently shook her head. “Nope. I wanted to go.”
“Where? Where did you go?”
“To modeling school.”
“Then why are you a nurse?”
“Look at me, Beck. Do I look like model material to you?”
At a stalemate, they stared at each other across the booth, the dim lights hiding the truth.
“Let’s go,” he said, standing to his full six feet two inches.
Jan would rather have walked home barefoot on hot coals than ride on the back of his Harley. What had once been exhilarating and sexy as all hell had suddenly turned into an exercise in torture.
DETERMINED not to make physical contact with Beck on the motorcycle, Jan pushed as far back on the pillion as it allowed. She planted her feet on the bars and braced her hands behind her along the edge of the elongated seat, gritting her teeth as if doing so would keep her steady and safe. Once settled, she gave Beck directions to her house.
She used to love riding on the back of Beck’s motorbike, but this time it made her feel jittery and tightly strung. Out of practice, she stared at the back of his neck rather than watch the road spin by.
The moonlit sky and pleasant temperature normally would have made for a perfect night to ride with the top down in a car. But this? Completely vulnerable on the back of Beck’s bike, she chewed on her lower lip and prayed she’d make it home in one piece. When had she become such a chicken?
After a stoplight, he jumped into what felt like hyper-speed and her hands went flying around his leather-covered torso. But Beck was on a residential street where the speed limit was thirty-five m.p.h. What felt like reckless abandon to Jan was probably because of the hot toddy and the real speed doubtless closer to twenty-five.
Turning her face, if it weren’t for the bulky helmet, she’d have smashed her cheek against his back. He stiffened and sat a bit straighter. As it was, her chin dug into the muscle just above his scapula. Solid and steady, he stayed ramrod straight, making it easier for her to anchor herself to him.
A quick reminder of the stable force he’d once been should have helped her relax. It didn’t. Her arms were around the last man on earth she’d ever wanted to see again.
Jan clenched her eyes tight and held on as if her life depended on it, and remained that way for several minutes until he slowed down and entered her driveway.
What would her neighbors think about the quiet and withdrawn condo dweller arriving home well after midnight on the back of a chopper? It almost made her grin, but she remembered who the driver was, and lost all sense of amusement.
After forcing her eyes open, she jumped off the bike before he had a chance to help. She almost lost her balance but managed to steady herself after a series of klutzy hops. Rather than watch his long legs and tight ass when he expertly removed himself from the machine, she fidgeted with the helmet. Yeah, she’d peeked first. Her hands fluttered and made little progress in loosening the strap.
“Here,” he said, stepping too close and reaching for her. “Let me get that.”
Like magic he unlatched it and had her free and clear in a flash. She swallowed and stepped back quickly, almost tripping on the curb. He caught her by the elbow.
“Whoa. You OK?”
“I’m fine. Fine. Thanks for the ride. Goodnight.” She wanted to run but decided it would be too obvious. Avoiding his eyes, she turned and forced a normal pace toward her porch. He strode right behind.
“I’m fine, remember? You don’t have to see me to my door.”
“What would your mother think if I didn’t?”
Her mother? When had been the last time she had considered what her mother thought about anything? Ever since Karen Stewart had told her to “get rid of it”, as if Jan’s pregnancy had been nothing more than an inconvenience, she’d questioned her mother’s advice on anything.
Beck used to go out of his way to impress Mrs. Stewart, as if knowing that the key to any girl’s heart started by winning over the mother. Karen had been anything but impressed with the wild and edgy teen, and Jan had never been able to convince her otherwise. His joining the Army and her subsequent pregnancy news had had Karen cursing Beck’s very existence. It seemed she’d had plans of pushing her daughter into the limelight, with high hopes of making a buck or two off her looks. The pregnancy had forced Karen to come up with a different idea. She’d refused the traditional adoption agency the school counselor had found, instead finding an ad in a local paper and pursuing private, open adoption with a couple and a special lawyer willing to pay more than the usual prenatal health-care fees. Then she’d forced her underage daughter to lie.
Jan
