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Trying to believe, hoping like crazy it was true, she flexed her fingers on the leather around Castillo’s waist and tried to relax.
She almost found her daze again as the bike meandered along back roads between forests, fields and vineyards. Did he think someone was following them? Or was wherever he was going really in the middle of nowhere?
She still wasn’t sure when he turned onto a dirt path marked by two huge redwoods, throttling the Harley back to a dull roar.
He wove down a path so narrow a car wouldn’t fit. Sun winked between tall trees, the tires kicking up pine needles and the exhaust ruffling the bushes.
It’d be a great place to bury a body.
Lara seriously hoped she hadn’t pissed him off that much.
Then he came to a clearing.
Her nerves dissipated.
Her mouth dropped.
It was like being suffused with a hefty shot of mellow. Every muscle relaxed and Lara smiled.
There, at the far end of the clearing, was the cutest cabin. So darling she expected a little girl in a red cape to come skipping through the trees.
Castillo stopped, turned off the motor. He gave a jerk of his shoulders. She let go of his waist and leaned back far enough that plenty of air fit between their bodies. He didn’t have to shake her off twice, she sniffed.
He pulled his phone out, angling it so she couldn’t see what he was doing. As if she was so nosy she’d try and read over his shoulder? Lara rolled her eyes, wondering if he’d gotten any medals for his paranoia.
Then she wrinkled her nose, remembering that he’d been spot-on with his last paranoid warning. She looked toward the trees so she wouldn’t catch sight of what he was doing. Just in case.
Eventually—one, two, twenty minutes or so later—he tucked the phone into his pocket. He kicked the stand down, then swung his leg over the seat to dismount the bike. Big, sturdy thing that it was, it only shifted a little with Lara still perched on the back.
He pulled something else out of his pocket.
A cool military device? Some kind of homing signal that’d open a secret cave in the trees?
When he aimed it at the cabin, she saw a small red light above the door go out.
Security system?
Okay, it was still cool.
She glanced at Castillo to comment, then caught her breath.
He was unzipping his jacket, the black leather parting. Oh, yeah, she sighed, noting that his shirt was a lot tighter today. The soft cotton of his tee molded a chest that was as delicious as it was hard. Lara licked her lips, her eyes skimming over his flat belly. She wished the shirt was tight there, too, because he had abs worth worshipping.
She really hadn’t spent enough time appreciating them while he was naked. She should have kissed her way over that chest, spent a good bit of time with the abs on her way down. But she’d been in too much of a hurry to get to the good stuff.
Story of her life.
Lara forced herself to look away before she started drooling. She glanced at her watch, noting that it’d been four hours since he’d even looked at her. That jerk of his shoulders was the only indication since they’d left her apartment building that he knew she was there.
It was enough to make a girl forget she was sorry and make a play—a very naughty play—for his attention.
He’d saved her, she reminded herself.
Jumping his body and using him for wild sex was a poor thank-you.
Maybe.
“Where are we?” she finally asked.
“We’re not driving to Coronado on a bike,” was all he said.
Lara looked around for an alternate form of transportation.
But unless that darling cabin flew or he had a transporter in the trees somewhere, there was nothing.
He didn’t elaborate, just strode toward the cabin and climbed the steps.
Afraid it’d fall over without his presence, Lara climbed off the bike. She was glad he’d gone inside, since her dismount wasn’t nearly as graceful as his.
Lara stood next to the bike, looking around while she tried to decide what to do. He hadn’t invited her into the cabin, but he hadn’t warned her to stay out, either.
A loud rustling broke the peaceful silence, the bushes shaking off to the right.
Rude or not, Lara wasn’t staying out here. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle on the saddlebag, her heart racing as she tried to get it open. Finally, she threw the leather flap over, grabbed her laptop and, almost tripping over her own feet, ran toward the cabin.
She made it up the three wide plank steps without a problem, but her toe hit the seam on the porch, sending her flying through the open door.
She caught her balance just before her knees hit the floor.
Righting, her laptop cradled against her chest, she blew her hair out of her eyes and grimaced at Castillo.
“Sorry. I’m usually more graceful,” she muttered.
