ran a hand over his shaved head. “You mean because of how I look? The bike and the tattoos and—?”
“The tattoos?” She looked him over quickly, a flick of the eyes, as if she could see beneath his jacket if she looked hard enough. Hell, all she had to do was ask nicely. But she hadn’t asked. Yet.
He watched her swallow as if her mouth had gone dry. Lust crawled down his belly.
He’d asked her to dinner out of curiosity, but now... Now he really wanted to take this girl out. “We’ll go someplace quiet,” he said, leaning a little closer. “And I promise not to tell.”
She looked away, gazing down the street. He was sure she was about to offer a cool “No,” but then she looked up the street, as well. She wasn’t avoiding his gaze, she was checking to see who was watching.
“I’m meeting my girlfriends for dinner.”
“And after?” he dared, hearing a hint of acquiescence in her voice.
“After,” she murmured, then her eyes rose to meet his. “There’s a big tourist place up the block. The Bucking Bronco.”
“I know it,” he said quickly.
“I’ll meet you for one drink. At the upstairs bar.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. She was serious about not being seen. No local would ever set foot in that overpriced, mediocre tourist trap of a restaurant. “When?”
“Around ten-thirty?” she suggested.
“Sure,” he said, thinking even as he said it that she wouldn’t show. She’d chicken out. And that was fine. Because she couldn’t take away the sight of her cute green skirt swinging around her ass as she walked away.
A little librarian to take his mind off his family and their bullshit. Sometimes life was damn surprising.
SHE COULDN’T MEET him. She’d made a terrible mistake agreeing to do it. Her dark, reckless side had pushed her into a stupid impulse. It wanted a ride on that bike, but he was one guy she could never play with, even for a night.
Sophie told herself this even as she smoothed up a nude stocking and clipped it to her garter belt. She’d showered and shaved her legs and picked out a sleeveless black dress with an A-line skirt, all the while assuring herself she wouldn’t see him after dinner. She couldn’t. Alex Bishop obviously didn’t know who she was. If he knew she was Dorothy Heyer’s daughter, he’d never have asked her out.
Then again... He had a glint in his eyes that Sophie recognized. It was familiar because she saw it in the mirror every day. It was a glint that said she wanted to do things. Things she knew she shouldn’t.
She smoothed up the other stocking and clipped it in place before letting the skirt fall.
The black dress was modest. The neckline didn’t show even a hint of cleavage. Everything about her was modest. Everything except the truth.
She brushed her hair out until it shone, then twisted it back into her favorite chignon. She would’ve left it down, but if she went for a ride on his bike, it would stay neat under her helmet this way.
Not that she was going for a ride. She wasn’t even going to see him.
But she kept getting ready, her heart beating hard. This was the real her. The woman who wanted things she shouldn’t have. Things like a big stranger with a shaved head and tattoos she wanted to uncover. A man whose smile was almost as hard as those thighs encased by well-worn denim. Exactly the man she could not be seen with.
“No,” Sophie told herself as her heart beat even harder. No. She couldn’t do it. Yes, he was a virtual stranger. Yes, he was only in town for a few days. Yes, he looked dark and dangerous and he’d seen right away that she wasn’t exactly what she appeared to be.
But no. His identity overruled all of her usual guidelines. There would be nothing logical about a fling with Alex.
She slipped on her black heels with the little bows on the back, then slid bright red lipstick over her lips, loving the way the color bloomed and transformed her average mouth into something wicked and wanton. She pressed her lips together and marveled at the bright shock of color that reappeared when she pouted.
She slipped on her black glasses.
God. It had been so long since she’d been bad. Months since she’d even tried, and that last guy had been so boring once she’d finally gotten him alone.
Alex wouldn’t be boring.
But she couldn’t go.
Then again... She didn’t have his number. It would be rude to simply not show up. She should at least go to the bar after dinner to tell him that this was a mistake.
Of course, if she only told him that, he’d press, just like he had earlier. Come on. It’ll be fun. He’d seen what she really wanted and pushed her to give in to it. Come on. I promise not to tell.
Pleasure shot through her belly at the memory of those wicked words. A few seconds with the guy and he’d already tapped into that naughty streak that had haunted her since high school.
Back then, she’d never indulged it, so it had been easier to ignore. It wasn’t easy to ignore anymore.
So she couldn’t just see him and play coy. She’d have to tell him the truth about who she was. That was the right thing to do.
Nodding to herself, Sophie shrugged on a little black sweater with pearl buttons, then slipped in matching pearl earrings.
Maybe a little too Audrey Hepburn, but with the red lipstick and the bows at the back of her heels, she hoped she’d added a hint of suggestion.
Sophie locked up the tiny house she was staying in and headed down the street. Dinner with the girls was just what she needed. They tried to get together every other Sunday for girls’ night out, but this was an extra treat. Lauren had wanted to try the new French restaurant in town and Isabelle had just finished up a big project that had kept her working late for weeks, so they had a good excuse for a weekday night out.
The restaurant was only four blocks away, so she’d decided not to drive. If she walked, she’d have the perfect excuse to accept a ride later.
Even if—when, she ordered herself—even when she told him who she was, he still might offer a ride home. It’d be very late, after all. And a ride would be a pleasant consolation prize, pressed against his broad back with that black-and-chrome machine between her thighs. That was a hell of a lot more than nothing.
Her heels clicked against the wooden boardwalk when she reached the first touristy block of town. It was cool tonight, but she never minded that. She loved the breeze sneaking over her silk-clad legs. She loved the cool air in her lungs and the scent of turning aspen on the breeze. Fall was her favorite time of year. It felt like the world was holding its breath for something exciting.
She tried to tell herself she wasn’t doing the same thing as she reached
