Her tummy dipped, and she tugged on her leather gloves. Her hidden obsession with fast bikes came straight from her brother, Michael, but her sisters just didn’t understand it. especially because she was the straitlaced one in the family. How many times had she picked Michael’s brain about his racecars and tried to steal his motorcycles for a ride? She’d dreamed of having the bike of all bikes on her own terms, and finally she’d achieved her goal.
She lifted her leg to slide over the seat, and her cell rang.
Porca vacca. She almost ignored it, but too many years of habit took over, so she had to at least glance at the ID.
She reached in her bag and pulled the phone out. After looking, she let her finger hesitate on the button only a second before pushing it.
“yes?”
“Ciao bella. Why don’t you sound happier to hear from me?”
She tamped down on her impatience and reminded herself this was the deal of the century. Politeness was key.
“I’m sorry, Sawyer, I was just getting ready to go out for a bit. How can I help you?”
“oh, good. I need to go over something in the contract.
Why don’t you stop by my place and we’ll finish it up?”
Julietta scowled at the phone. “It’s not a good time right now. Perhaps tomorrow?”
Silence hummed. An irritated masculine silence. “I’m not one to invade a business partner’s personal life, but this is a huge undertaking for Purity. I need to know you’re on board in this delicate time. one hundred percent.”
She practically spit into the receiver. “I’ve just spent the bulk of my Saturday at the computer. I’m completely on board, so to speak. Can we settle it over the phone?”
“No. Where are you going? Can I meet you?”
She stared at her bike with a lustful need that shook her bones. “I’m going riding for the next few hours. How about I stop by afterward and we’ll settle the items up for negotiation?”
“riding what? A bicycle?”
She couldn’t help the automatic scoff that came from her mouth. “No: motorcycle.”
He paused for a beat. “Perfect. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you at the Duomo.”
Julietta gaped. “What? No—no, you can’t go with me.
I’m going motorcycle riding.”
“I heard you the first time. I promise not to bully you with my bike. See you soon.”
The phone clicked.
She blinked and tried desperately to keep her sanity.
This was not happening. Her peaceful, stress-blowing bike ride was turning into a business trip with a man she needed to avoid at all costs. She analyzed the options of not showing or calling back to cancel, but she already sensed the domineering man wouldn’t answer. And if she didn’t show up for their impromptu meeting, he could decide to pull the contract.
Julietta blew out a breath of disgust and climbed on the bike. The low thrum of the engine kicked into gear, and she took off toward the center of town, weaving expertly through traffic and keeping her speed down until she hit open turf and let it rip.
She gave him credit. Her watch just hit the fifteen mark when she saw him pull up. Julietta tried hard not to show any surprise at his choice of ride. She’d expected a brash American Harley, but damn him, he’d managed to up his game without even trying.
She flipped up her visor and flicked him a cool glance.
“Nice bike. Where’s your Harley?”
The total hotness of male perfection on the MV Agusta F4CC was criminal. In faded, tight jeans, a leather bomber jacket, and vintage riding boots, he cut a bad-boy-meets-surfer figure that almost killed her. Almost. He slowly un-buckled his helmet and slid it off his head to cradle in the crook of his arm. Then shook out his shaggy blond hair. His quick grin flashed that crooked front tooth. “you’re not cutting up on the American phenomenon of the Harley, are you darlin’? That could get you shot in the U.S.”
She gave a delicate shrug. He never needed to know she secretly loved the American classic. “Good thing I’m not there. How’d you get one of those? There were only one hundred made.”
He dropped his voice to a dirty whisper. “I know people. They owe me favors.”
Her spine tingled with anticipation. The hungry look as his gaze roved over her body caught her hard, but she ral-lied. “What do we need to discuss?”
He laughed low. “Nothing at the moment. Where are we going?”
She drew her brows together and tried to be firm.
“Nowhere. We’ll discuss business, and then I’m going riding.”
“Where?”
She shrugged. “Wherever I feel like.”
“Sounds like a plan. We’ll stop for a break and talk business later. you lead.”
Julietta squirmed with the need to wipe the smug look off his face. “I’m trying to be polite here, but you’re making it difficult. I don’t feel like making social conversation today.”
“Who said anything about conversation?”
Her spit dried up and she held back an actual pant.
Those full lips quirked as if he knew her body’s reaction.
“If you can’t keep up, I’m not waiting for you. This is my time,” she said.
His slow grin taunted and pushed all the right buttons.
or the wrong ones. “I’ll admit my surprise at your choice of The Pirate. But can you handle her, little girl? Perhaps I’ll be the one waiting for you to catch up.”
Julietta snapped her helmet down, kicked her bike into gear, and gave him a pitying look. “See you on the other side.”
She took off.
They rode through the city, battled traffic, and finally hit stride. The streets opened up and spit them out as the city rolled by and the gorgeous hills of the Alps shimmered in the distance like a mirage. The sun fought like the king it was and triumphed over the grayness for a few hours. Traffic was lighter than normal for a Saturday, and she headed toward Navigli. Julietta rode hard, pushing the machine into full gear and squeezing out more horsepower. The flash of the road underneath the wheels, the tug of the cold wind in her nostrils, the whiz of vivid blue and green and yellow of the colorful buildings all rose up and mixed together in a symphony of sweetness to her soul. For a little while, on a fast bike, in her beloved land, she was truly free.
They stopped for a break at a small café near the canal and bought lunch. They parked their bikes and stretched their legs in a leisurely walk. The market was open and bustling, and a boat slugged slowly down the water, charm-ing the tourists with an old-world yet Bohemian influence.