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“Could have fooled me.” She stared at him with her famous pissed off expression, still managing to look smoking hot.
“Nice bike. Is that a 1200?” His bike was top of the line. Hers was better.
&nbs
p; “1237.” She smiled. It was the first time he’d seen her genuinely smile since they’d met. “Yours is an 1198, right?”
Neil cursed under his breath and growled, “It’s a 1200.”
She crossed her leather-clad arms across her chest and smirked, the curve at the side of her lips making appendages on his lower body twitch and harden. “Sort of a waste if you crash and burn. But you can just go and buy a brand new one any time you want.”
That. That right there was part of what infuriated him about this woman. Her assumption that he took for granted everything that had been handed to him. But he wasn’t going to let her goad him into a fight in public. Especially at his first official race.
The riders to his left and right grew irritated. And the woman who was ready to count down the race had cocked her hip to the side and now studied her fingernails. Neil decided to ignore them.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
“A girl can’t take a midnight ride and stumble upon an illegal street race where people almost die every night?”
He gave her a sarcastic look to match her response.
It didn’t make any sense. A daddy’s girl through and through, Carson probably went to the best private schools, the Ivy League and was now being groomed by her father, the best architect the city had seen in fifty years. If the outspoken bombshell of a woman didn’t annoy the hell out of him on a daily basis, he would have been impressed that she could follow in those footsteps and actually live up to the standards set out in front of her.
“Let’s just say I had a feeling I’d find you here,” she said.
“And why would you know where here is?”
“Can we ride?” The biker to his left yelled out. “I’ve got a certain female waiting to congratulate me at the finish line.”
“CK!” Hector called out to Carson from his position at the sidelines, motioning her over with a wave of her hand.
The night got weirder by the minute. She knew Diaz personally. Had they…? No way she dated that douche. And no way daddy would ever let his daughter associate with this rough crowd. But that didn’t explain how she and Diaz were on a first name basis.
Hector’s goon approached and grabbed Carson’s arm. A growl formed in Neil’s throat. “Get your hands—”
She jerked her arm away and gave the goon an evil death stare. One he’d seen far too many times while they argued about the height of his restaurant’s ceiling. “Don’t forget who you’re manhandling.”
The goon recoiled, his hand freezing in place. This woman wasn’t just an architect. She looked as if she were completely in her element. But how the hell did she fit into this world?
She turned back to Neil and threw her hands up in defeat. “Fine. Kill yourself. I’m leaving.”
Like hell she was. Not until he got an explanation.
“You’re not going to give me the details?” Curiosity gnawed at him as he reached out and grabbed her arm. The leather of her jacket was soft, just as he imagined her skin would be if he ever had the opportunity to touch her bare flesh.
Their gazes clashed and for a moment, Neil wondered what it would be like to stare into those brown depths from above, with him settled between her legs, his hips thrusting against her body. He’d wanted her from the very first day she had rode up to the Madewood farm on her bike. But he’d pushed his desire aside not only because she was his architect, but because he didn’t have time to deal with this particularly infuriating woman. From their first meeting, Carson Kelly was a ball-breaking hardass. His first instinct was to end the meeting early but when she pulled out her designs, vision won out over personality. She had incorporated everything he had dreamed and taken it to the next level. He wanted the best, and the best was Carson Kelly III.
She shrugged. “The details aren’t important.” She pulled her arm away, breaking their contact. She walked her bike away from the starting line.
“Details are always important. I’d like to know why my architect is at an illegal street race and is on an intimate level with Hector Diaz.”
“But you’re allowed to be here?” She challenged as she mounted her bike. “Forget you ever saw me here.” She gripped the throttle and revved the engine. “It was a mistake to follow you.”
“Carson, I—”
“I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” She looked over her shoulder. “You shouldn’t get involved with him.”
“And what do you know about it?”
