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‘You’re squinting, Honor. Is that the sun or are you telling fibs?’ He laughed at her scowling expression. ‘Come on, stop being such a ninny. You know you want to. It’s hot and I’ll bet you’re dying of thirst. If you don’t want to put your arms around me, I’ll scoot back a bit and you can sit in front of me.’ He watched her actually contemplate the option before adding wickedly, ‘Between my legs. You’d feel extra safe then, Honor. You’ve been there before, remember, and emerged unscathed.’
‘That is a matter of opinion,’ Honor delighted him by muttering tartly. She reached out to touch the hot rubber of the huge, fat rear tyres. He was right, damn him, she did want to. She’d seen some of the orchard employees tearing around on the bikes and it had looked rather fun. Why should she deprive herself of an enjoyable new experience just to prove Adam wrong?
Getting on proved a little more complicated than he had implied. Honor had to hitch her skirt well up her thighs to manoeuvre into place and once she was astride the seat she kept sliding forward towards the depression created by Adam’s greater weight. Her thighs scraped against the outside seam of his denims as she positioned her feet and when it came to her hands she was in something of a dilemma.
‘I know the advertising claim is that they’re rugged enough to tow a car with, but if you hang on to my jeans like that, Honor, they might peel off on a tight curve.’
Honor could feel those tight curves—they were pressed snugly against the V of her legs! She reluctantly let go of his belt loops and tentatively reached around his thick waist, closing her eyes tightly as she felt her hands tangle briefly with the flapping sides of his shirt
before connecting with a hard wall of flesh. His skin was hot and slightly moist, so that her palms slid slickly across it. The thicket of hair on his chest, her touch soon discovered, narrowed to a broad streak over his taut belly, springy and vital.
He turned his head, the profile of his lips barely moving as he murmured, ‘Hold me harder, Honor, I won’t break.’
Honor took a deep breath and leaned further into the convex curve of his back, her breasts flattening against striated muscle, her fingers meshing in a little rush over his navel, catching up a few stray curls as they did so. He made a small, choking sound of mingled pain and laughter that seemed to ripple through every muscle in his body.
‘Sorry!’
‘Did you do that on purpose?’
‘Of course I didn’t,’ she denied. ‘It’s not my fault you’re hairy.’
‘I could shave if you prefer your men smooth.’
As if he cared what she preferred! Although at least he’d paid her the compliment of the plural.
‘Shave your chest?’ Her mouth suddenly curved as she imagined it. ‘Maybe you’d better not,’ she said, a bubble of laughter bursting in her throat. ‘Your hairiness might hide a multitude of sins...the way men grow beards to hide weak chins.’
‘I didn’t choose to be like this, you know; genetics decided it for me. It’s not a matter of vanity.’ Did he sound slightly piqued?
‘Your father, he was a hairy man,’ chuckled Honor, her arms contracting automatically with her mirth.
‘He was, as a matter of fact. And he still had a full head of hair the day he died!’
He really was miffed. Honor muffled her giggles in the back of his shirt.
‘If you can control yourself we’ll get started,’ he rumbled sternly, turning the ignition key jerkily and causing a misfire.
‘Yes, Rapunzel, sir,’ she said meekly.
His diaphragm tensed under her hand as he twisted far enough sideways to be able to see her laughter-contorted face and merry eyes. She tried unsuccessfully to look serious and a wry half-smile touched his mouth in response. ‘No wonder Sara thinks she’s found a kindred spirit.’ His smile deepened. ‘You’re not really in an ideal position to provoke me, lady, with your dress hiked up to your waist and your legs wrapped around mine.’
‘Are you going to start your engine, or just sit here boasting about it?’ Honor countered pertly.
‘Feeling your oats, are you, honey?’ he rasped, taking off his hat and stuffing it under his thigh. ‘That’s good, because my engine has been revving for the last five minutes.’
It was a wild ride. After the first few minutes Honor forgot her modesty and tried to climb inside him as she hung on over the bumps and hollows. He weaved along the gravel tractor paths and finally detoured through one of the kiwi-fruit blocks, Honor instinctively ducking as they zipped under the leafy, spreading vines trained along a canopy of wires strung between stout wooden posts. The vines were supported at a comfortable height for an average man to stand under without stooping so her unnecessary cringing made Adam laugh, as did her little squeal when he executed a smart one hundred and eighty-degree turn at the end of the row and started back down again. In the end Honor was laughing with him, the wind whipping her hair into a mad froth around her face, the words she tried to shout at him instantly snatched from her mouth and lost in their turbulent wake. It was a long time since Honor had experienced the intoxicating thrill of sheer physical recklessness.
Well, at least all of four days!
When Honor tried to scramble off in the paddock behind the house her legs showed an alarming tendency to fold underneath her.
‘You were showing off,’ she gasped, as Adam lifted her off in a flurry of gathered skirts and supported her elbows as she found her feet again.
He grinned. ‘Just a bit. I made sure to stay out of the blocks that are being worked but I hope we weren’t spotted by a rogue crew member. There’s a threat of dismissal out on anyone who’s caught joy-riding on the farm equipment.’
‘They can’t fire you, you’re the boss.’ Honor was still trying to cope with the effect of the exhilaration on her nerves. ‘I wonder why they call it joy-riding?’ she said shakily.
Still holding one of her elbows, Adam waltzed her around her to face him. ‘Are you going to tell me you didn’t enjoy it?’ he teased. ‘Come on, Honor, I dare you. Look me dead in the eye and tell me that.’
