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It was finally Saturday. A tingle of excitement sparked low in her belly. She’d counted down the hours since she’d left him last Sunday night.
Sterling passed the time busy with her own clients during the day, then helping Jack with the auction and presentation every evening in between packing up the house. It was a good thing he wasn’t paying her by the hour because she was clocking in more than any other job she’d ever done. Not to mention spending quite a few of those hours in his bed. But as of last night, his proposal was complete and the house was organized. Movers had shown up to haul most of the items to a storage unit two days ago and everything that remained was scheduled to be picked up next week and shuttled to various agencies or the dump.
Neil, Finn, and Cole ha
d stopped by and picked up a few items they wanted to keep for themselves. Finn raided the kitchen of pots, gadgets, and utensils. Cole took a few pieces of Vivian’s jewelry and a blue knit blanket, and Neil took an old box that was labeled ARTHUR. They all wanted pictures but Sterling had lied and told them the storage boxes hadn’t come in yet. Her surprise was almost complete. She only needed a few more hours and they would all have their own personal scrapbook of memories.
Her decision to help Jack with his proposal wasn’t monetary. That night on the beach she realized their time was coming to a close and she would have done anything to spend more time with him. Even if it meant she had to teach him how to use Microsoft Publisher.
Despite his hesitance, Jack didn’t need any help, and she secretly hoped his insistence had to do with the fact that he wanted to spend time with her. Heaven knew she wanted to spend every spare minute with him. She was falling…lightly. But it was only a matter of time before she picked up speed, and with Jack gone, she’d have no one there to catch her, smashing into the concrete below. She checked her makeup in the rearview mirror before hopping out of her car. Sterling experimented with lip gloss today—a treat she had picked up during the week. Her lips were plump and pink, perfect for kissing Jack’s lips.
She wondered what exciting things lay ahead for her that evening. Would they be using the jet again? Would they be visiting another hot spot meant to let down her guard?
She was told to dress casual tonight and meet him at the restaurant. Maybe fancy wasn’t in the cards.
The parking lot of Bistro was packed—as usual. The balmy summer air caressed her skin as she walked across the parking lot toward the restaurant. The sun, still shining brightly, started to make its descent toward the horizon. She smoothed down the front of her shirt and checked that her jeans were fitted perfectly before she entered the building.
He was waiting for her at the hostess desk. He chatted up the young girl, who went from all smiles to coolness as soon as she walked through the door.
“There you are.” He smiled and met her halfway. He hadn’t even bothered to say good-bye to the hostess, who huffed out an annoyed sound.
“I think I’m a few minutes late. I—”
Jack swooped in and kissed her. His tongue immediately swept against her lips, delving into her mouth with passionate force, the fact that she was late forgotten. With her mind a little hazy and her eyesight a little blurry, she stared up at him. This is what this man did to her.
“Let’s go. A motorcycle is waiting.”
“A motorcycle?” He pulled her by the hand and she yelped. “I didn’t agree to a motorcycle.”
He looked behind and cocked his head to the side. “You’re not calling the shots, now, are you?”
They walked around the building to the back parking lot. Sure enough, a motorcycle was parked by the back door to the kitchen.
“I didn’t know you had a motorcycle.” There were probably a million more things she didn’t know about him.
“I don’t. It’s Neil’s. We’re just borrowing it for the evening.”
That reminded her. She wondered what he had up his sleeve for tonight. “What are we doing this evening?”
He stopped halfway to the bike and hugged her into his body, getting serious. “I want to take you somewhere.”
They walked up to the bike, where a young man stood guard smoking a cigarette.
“Thanks, Mario.” He nodded—more like gestured—telling Mario to become scarce. His power tingled inside her. With one head tilt, he commanded. That was definitely something she wasn’t accustomed to. But it sure as hell was something she’d like to be.
Two helmets sat atop the seat, a pair of gloves inside one of them. The bike was a black Ducati, and that’s all she could deduce from its physical appearance. She knew nothing about cars or motorcycles.
A leather jacket hung on the handlebar. Black with pink stripes down the sleeves. “Is that for me?”
“Every motorcycle chick needs a leather jacket.” He picked up the garment and held it out for her. She slid one arm in, then the other, the supple leather soft against her skin. It fitted perfectly.
“Put this on.” He picked up the black helmet and slipped it on her head. He fitted the chinstrap, then pushed the visor down. He did the same with his helmet and straddled the sleek black bike. His jeans stretched to accommodate the position of his legs, accenting his strong, muscular thighs. He kicked back the stand and looked at Sterling.
Nervousness filled her stomach, but she heated up at the thought of being pressed up against his body as they rode the streets.
“Hop on, sweetheart.”
She approached the bike, lifted her leg, and swung it up and over the seat.
