the solid sinew of his ribcage. Jackson’s body like an anchor, holding her fast in the hell of the storm.
As she screwed her eyes closed again, she wrenched some air into her lungs from the hurtling wind that was choking her. Then, something shifted, deep in her core. It was like every emotion she’d ever had was erupting, venting, finding release. Something primal, something deep, some huge animal vibration. Reeling at the shock of the sound, before she even knew it was coming from her. It amplified, as she hurled back her head, threw her jaw wide.
A shrieking, howling scream.
A win for The Howler then.
Longer than Jackson cared to remember since that had happened. World event or charity gig, the taste was still sweet. Flipping the front wheel out of the tandem, he hoisted the frame up onto the roof rack and began to secure the fastenings. Wins all round in fact. Kudos for his Aunt and her charities; all his duties for the day looked after, the right hands shaken and enough of them, the right prizes presented, the right smiles smiled, the right egos massaged. A ton of goodwill for Jackson the good-boy, whose whitewash was getting a golden aura here today. And he gave the finger with a right and proper royal wave to the trashy papers waiting for him to mess up.
The upside of flying across the finish line in first place being slightly off-set by the downside of having a banshee along for the ride. Okay. He howled mildly when the adrenalin rush had nowhere else to go, that he’d concede – but the screeching wail that came out of the Cherry Bomb was barely human. Something else entirely. Although, overall he had to admit she’d surprised him, impressed him even, with the way she’d got a grip of her fear and hung on in there. She was obviously made of sterner stuff than that first candyfloss impression suggested.
And speaking of cherries.
‘Jackson, you’ll give me the heads-up when you’re ready for our interview? A quick chat to camera won’t take long, but sooner rather than later would be better. Like, now would be great.’
Bryony, seemingly transformed from the wreck of a woman who’d climbed off the tandem; she was still in the bubblegum shorts, though, striding across the car park waving her arms.
‘Found your bossy self again, then?’
And her clipboard.
That oh-so-arrogant way she assumed people were going to go along with her every whim rubbed him the wrong way.
‘No thanks to you.’ Flicking her almost-perfect-again hair over her shoulder, she waggled a microphone in his direction and posted him an iron smile.
This was one lady who was very used to getting her own way. Super-efficient, super-composed. So long as she wasn’t travelling by tandem.
He propped the bike wheel against the bumper. ‘Now is as good a time as any.’
Playing it cool, he stifled a grin and rubbed his back. Still aware of where she had clung on to him, the imprint of her warmth sticking on his spine like a muscle memory that wouldn’t shift. Hell, given those spiky nails of hers, he was lucky she hadn’t shredded his whole stomach along the way, even if it was sending his blood rushing south as he recalled it.
‘Dave, Tony.’ A half-lift of one of her perfect eyebrows and a camera guy and a sound man materialised out of nowhere. ‘Here will do, Jackson. Annie’s gone, so I’m standing in to ask the questions. It’s my first time, so please bear with me.’
It’s my first time… He tried to ignore the way those words made his knees sag momentarily. For an interview virgin, she was showing no sign of nerves.
Palm on his chest, she slammed Jackson to lean against the car wing, then tucked in neatly next to him. So close he couldn’t escape her woman-cloud; yet they were pointedly not touching.
Shoving the mike under his chin, she nodded at the camera guy and cleared her throat.
‘A great win for you today, Jackson, wouldn’t you say?’ TV voice all pretty now, expecting him to play nice.
‘So long as you overlook my perforated eardrums.’ No harm in telling it like it was. ‘That was one major scream you did back there.’
Contact alert. Nudging him with her shoulder as she stiffened. All huffy, then, with a shake of accusing.
‘Which wouldn’t have happened if you’d put on the brakes.’ Judging by the shrill, he’d caught her by surprise there.
He returned her nudge, just for badness, and saw the whites of her eyes for his trouble. ‘We won. Winning’s what matters every time, even if it was just for fun today and hopefully we raised lots of money for good causes too. But asking a competition cyclist to brake on a final hill… Seriously, it’s not going to happen.’ Leaning back, he gave a low chuckle. ‘It’s like asking a tiger to turn vegetarian.’
Wow. Great view down her top from this angle. Trying to damp down his grin of appreciation for that and simultaneously ensure that his perving would not be discernible on camera. Good boys didn’t gawp at boobs, full stop, even if the sight was unavoidable. And she was still wearing his jacket. He made an instant mental note to leave it that way.
‘So Jackson, you’ve had huge success over the years – what’s your secret? How come you’re such a winner?’
A bit deep for a Saturday lunchtime in a car park. He blinked away the view of the tender skin at the top of her cleavage and focused on the mic instead as he searched for a suitably swift retort to shut up Ms Sure-of-herself.
‘I always get inside my opponent’s head, it’s a great advantage to be a mind reader.’ He tilted his head to see how she took that one, cocked a challenging eyebrow at her. For a first timer she was holding her own alarmingly well.
‘On top of all your other gifts you’re a mind reader too?’ Her voice went up an octave and she sent him a disbelieving smirk.
‘Yep.’ He felt a grin spreading slowly across his face. It was rare to find an interviewer so delightfully…how could he put it…reactive. That had to be the rookie coming out and he couldn’t resist the fun.
‘Okay! Great! So prove it then, tell me what am I thinking now?’
She pursed her lips determinedly, and dragged in a huge breath that brought her boobs at least six inches closer to his face, making the view he couldn’t resist returning to even better. Hmmm, soft flesh. Delicious, tantalising, even if it did belong to someone, who, now she’d recovered herself, obviously took pleasure in pushing him.
Half-closing his eyes, he slid out his reply. ‘At a guess I’d say you’re thinking I’m hot…’ Holding back his smile, he waited in anticipation, and wondered how far as a good-boy he could push this. Interview boundaries were new territory for him – his whole career as a bad-boy he’d relished in saying exactly what he pleased and damn the consequences. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he could recall an interview where there’d been underlying smoulder like this.
Whatever reaction he’d been hoping for, he hadn’t counted on traffic-light-red cheeks, or the spluttering into her hair.
‘Wwww…wh…what?’
