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“You may have a club to go to,” she argued quietly, “but I’ll be up at dawn working with your pony, and I don’t want a late night. I suggest you don’t either.”
He pulled his head back in surprise. “Are you telling me what to do?”
“I take my job very seriously,” she assured him. “If I’m working with a horse, I’m with that horse one hundred percent. I’m not half-asleep.”
“What about the plans I made?”
“Your plans.” She gave him a withering look. “Exactly.”
He stared at the door as she closed it in his face. Seeing her come across the room to close the window, he reached past the screen and stopped it with his fist. “Find your dress. I’ll wait.”
“I don’t have a dress.” She glanced at his Harley. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t wear a dress to ride a thing like that.”
Her Irish brogue rolled over him like a glass of good wine, which mellowed him slightly. And it wasn’t a flat no. “Ten minutes,” he warned.
“Tomorrow morning,” she countered. “Five thirty. Indoor ménage.” Closing the window, she drew the curtains.
He huffed a short laugh. Game on.
Chapter Three
She wanted him. She didn’t want him. She wanted him—this was like plucking the petals off a daisy. But she couldn’t risk having him.
She wanted sex with Dante Formosa. Why pretend otherwise? Who wouldn’t want no-holds-barred, sweaty, noisy sex with a man like Dante? Punctuating each lascivious thought with a punch to her pillow didn’t help. How could her sensible brain tell her one thing while her body said she needed him like air to breathe? That it was him, or nothing—
Then, it is nothing.
She’d take the veil if she couldn’t have him!
She’d better get measured up for her nun’s habit, because she couldn’t have him. She couldn’t risk it. What she had in mind would jeopardize her reputation and her career. She held a position of trust in the Blood and Thunder team and could not afford to mix business with pleasure. And it would be pleasure, she was sure of that. Dante’s eyes promised all sorts of wickedness. His body was made for sin. And while her sensible self said there were plenty of girls only too willing to service his needs, did she really want to stand in line for the chance to become one of them?
Try telling that to her racing hormones. Did they care? No. They were only interested in Dante releasing her tension and easing the ache. She needed that brutally masculine totem to everything that was harsh and unfeeling to touch her here…and here…and here…lots of here, just like this…delicately, persuasively, rhythmically here—
No!
What was she doing?
Stop that now!
Reluctantly pulling her hand out of her pajama bottoms, she flung herself back on the pillows. Self-help was no help at all if it made her feel more frustrated, not less.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang and everything changed. Catapulting up in bed, she listened intently to her father calling from Ireland. He was in trouble. She’d never heard him sounding more distressed.
~~o0o~~
Dante loved the power of the Harley. Controlling the superbike gave him a buzz that only riding a horse flat-out could match. Control was everything. Riding a horse, a bike, a woman—the only flaw tonight was not riding Rose. He smiled as he thought of her shutting the door in his face—something that had never happened before and would never happen again. After skidding to a halt on top of the hill, he braced his forearms on the handlebars and lifted his head. The ocean roared at him on one side, while impenetrable darkness mocked him from the other. Was he seriously going to the club to sit at a bar and pick someone up, take them home, then wonder who was sharing his bed in the morning? Gunning the engine, he swung the bike around.
The wind tore through his hair as he roared back the way he’d come. He owned a share of everything on the island and could lay his head wherever he chose. But not in Rose’s bed. She’d made that much clear.
He slowed at the main gates. The guard waved him through. Cutting the speed of the engine to a rumbling growl, he cruised slowly down the impressive drive with its stately border of trees. Taking a left at the end, he approached the staff quarters. He rode past the equine exercise pool and the fully staffed veterinary hospital. The team’s facilities were the best in the world. The grooming shed alone boasted more equipment that a top-end hairdresser, and the forge had a full-time team of blacksmiths. Switching off his engine, he rolled to a halt outside Rose’s window. He wasn’t sure what he expected to hear, but it wasn’t this.
“Rose?” Springing from the bike, he hammered on her door.
As before, she didn’t answer, but the crying stopped. Leaning back against the door, he swore beneath his breath. Hearing Rose cry shocked him. She was always so together. She never let go.
Pulling away from the door, he supposed he should thank fate she hadn’t answered. What was he going to do? Hug her? Comfort her? Skills he’d lost years back? Maybe she was crying over a lover. Maybe that was why she was holding out on him. He mounted his bike and rode away.
~~o0o~~
