Her expression said, Hell yes. “I did an ER rotation during my residency. I saw a lot of rides that didn’t turn out as planned.”
“Past time you learned how a ride should go. Ours will be short and easy. You’ll love it. Trust me.” Not wanting to give her an opening to argue, he turned and straddled the big machine. Then he looked back and handed her the helmet. She hesitated.
“Come on, Doc. You’re the one who wants to be more adventurous between the sheets. Step one—be more adventurous out of them. If you can’t handle a sunset ride down a country road on a warm June night”—he shrugged—“might as well call Magnolia Grove and see if they’ve got a villa for you.”
“Magnolia Grove?”
“It’s a retirement community about halfway between here and Lexington. Very safe and peaceful, although I hear they’ve got extreme bingo if you think you can handle it.”
His taunt did the trick. She shoved the helmet over her head and stared him down. “How do I get on this blasted thing?”
It took three tries, and he got a very nice sneak peek at her new underwear in the process, but finally she sat behind him, her slim thighs around his hips, her front pressed against his back. The slope of the seat didn’t allow for any other position. Instant intimacy.
“You’re going to want to hold on.” He took her hands and wrapped her arms around his waist, biting back a smile when she laced her fingers together in a white-knuckled grip. “Ready?”
“Um, okay,” came her reluctant reply.
Good enough. He brought his right foot down hard on the kick-start lever and cranked the accelerator. The machine revved to life, but not quite in time to drown out her squeal. She clung to him as they rocketed down her driveway.
…
The purr of the engine obliterated any other noise she might have made, but it couldn’t hide the way her arms tightened to a death grip and her fingernails dug into his stomach. As a rule, he liked having a date pressed up against him so close a sheet of paper couldn’t squeeze between them, and so distracted by what he was doing to her that she put a few scratches on him. But he preferred to inspire that kind of mindless urgency during a slightly different activity. He settled a hand over hers and gave a squeeze. It seemed to help, a little.
Not that he didn’t get the reason for her anxiety. He did. Neither of them had been raised to trust easily, and hurtling down the open road with nothing but his skill standing between her and an up-close, personal encounter with the asphalt required a fair amount of trust. That understanding made it all the sweeter when, after a mile or so, her grip loosened infinitesimally and her body relaxed against his. Some natural instinct kicked in and she started to flow with the movement of the bike, and him. Tension he’d barely registered drained out of his neck and shoulders. Better. Much better. Now they could both sit back and enjoy the ride—the warm wind, the smell of honeysuckle in the air, the sinking sun bathing everything in orange and gold.
Those relatively innocent pleasures weren’t the only ones to enjoy. Every time he leaned into one of the meandering turns, she leaned into him. Her arms tightened around his waist and the hard, hot points of her nipples drilled into his back. The way she squirmed and clenched her thighs when he accelerated told him she felt the vibrations of the bike’s powerful engine in all the right places.
By the time the tin roof and weathered planks of The Catch came into view, she’d melted against him like a cheddar square on a hot slice of pie. He pulled into the restaurant’s busy parking lot, cut the engine, and heard her small, breathy sigh. Oh yeah, she liked the ride.
Bracing the bike with one leg, he slid his hand along her thigh. “You good with this, Doc?”
She pulled the helmet off. In his side mirror, he watched her give him a long, wary look, as if she might not be so sure about their bargain. He found himself holding his breath.
Then she nodded. “Absolutely, I’m good with this.” Chin raised, she smiled at him.
“Great. Better grab on.”
“Wha— ?” The word ended in a high note as he hefted the bike onto its kickstand. Her hands clutched his shoulders.
He waited while she got off the bike. As far as he could judge from his limited perspective, her underwear didn’t make an encore appearance during her dismount, but letting her use his body like a ladder to climb down stirred up his imagination almost as well. She wobbled a little when she stepped back to give him room. He pushed off the bike, closed the distance, and wrapped his arm around her waist. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No,” she said, sounding a bit startled by the admission. More pleased than he expected to be by one little word, he steered her along the short pier to the restaurant’s entrance.
He opened the door for her and followed her through, accidentally bumping into her when she stopped abruptly. He caught her arms to steady her when the impact knocked her off-balance, and then, for no reason except she smelled incredible and felt so damn good, he turned her to face him and very slowly, very deliberately pulled her in close until his chest brushed her breasts. She looked up at him with an expression somewhere between flustered and exasperated. He flashed his best innocent smile, not missing the pulse pounding away at the base of her throat. Ride’s not over yet, Sparky.
“Hungry?”
“Yes.” The word came out like a confession and he suspected she wasn’t referring to food. “But this place is pretty crowded. We might have a long wait.”
“They’ll have a table for us.” Taking her hand, he led her through the press of bodies.
Diane, the manager, spotted him before they made it to the hostess desk and wrapped him in a big hug. “Hey, sugar! I didn’t know you were coming in tonight.” She eased back, slid a curious glance toward Ellie, and raised a brow at him. “Table for two?”
“Can you squeeze us in?”
She laughed and smoothed a hand over her strawberry-blond hair. “Oh, sugar, I can always squeeze you in. And your friend.”
“Ellie,” he added, sliding his arm around her. “Ellie, Diane.”