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Anna wasn’t much for pain, but she wouldn’t mind Jacob wearing her out a little. Or a lot. “So now you’re going to use Adam as your excuse?”
He sat back, tall and straight, brushing the side of the bike’s body with his hand. He granted her the smallest fraction of a smile and it made her knees buckle. “When you put it that way, I don’t think I have a choice.” He pushed the kickstand back into place and climbed off the bike, heading for a tall cabinet in the corner. “Let’s find you a helmet and a jacket.”
Her mind was at war with itself. What are you doing? You came up here for a meeting. Shut up shut up shut up. Forget work. Forget the meeting. Who turns down a motorcycle ride with an insanely hot guy?
“We just need to be back in time for our meeting,” she said, as if it would make this sensible if she brought up work.
“That’s two hours from now. Plenty of time.”
“Okay.” Anna trailed over to him, wishing she’d had something smart or sexy or at least sane to say. She felt so overmatched, much as she had when Jacob had come to stay with her family that Christmas. As if he was guiding her, pulling her in, making her his. Except that it had never materialized that time. Was it all in her head? Would it actually happen now? If not, it would be fantastic to know now so she could preserve her dignity by dodging another brush-off.
He turned, holding out a black leather jacket. “Allow me.”
She made a one-eighty, her back to him, steeling herself to his touch, sliding her arms into the heavy garment, which weighed down her shoulders.
He patted her back gently. “A little big, but it’ll work.”
The sleeves were stiff, and she had to work at bending her arms to zip up the jacket. Boxy and clumsy for her frame, it made her feel like a child in a winter coat a size too big. She faced him and her brain sputtered, fixated on the image of him as he put on his own jacket. Dammit. It fit like he’d been born in it, adding a dangerous veneer to his admirable physique. Where did he get that thing? The Absurdly Tall and Broad-Shouldered Men’s Warehouse?
He grabbed a shiny silver helmet, but instead of handing it to her, he curled his hand around her head and reached for her ponytail, gently tugging on it as he pulled out the hair tie. She was so shocked, it was as if he’d pulled her breath out of her lungs at the same time. Her tresses collapsed around her shoulders. He was close enough to kiss. His mouth was right there—lips as tempting as could be, the moment resembling the one that preceded her ill-fated attempt at seduction. They’d been standing in nearly the same posture and stance. Why couldn’t he have taken her hair in his hands that night? Why couldn’t he have decided that she was more important than Adam?
“One of my old girlfriends always complained that it hurt to wear a ponytail that high with a helmet.”
Talk about ruining the moment. He would have to bring up other women, wouldn’t he? Of course he’d gone on with his life, including his romantic one, after they parted ways years ago. He was smart. He hadn’t wasted untold amounts of time wishing for someone he couldn’t have.
She nodded. “I never would’ve thought to take down my hair.”
He zipped up his motorcycle jacket, which was the sexiest meeting of metal teeth in the history of apparel fasteners. “If you want to know the truth, it’s just that I find that moment when a woman shakes out her hair after riding on the back of my bike particularly sexy.”
Was that his way of throwing down the gauntlet? Issuing a dare? Because she sure as heck could whip around her hair. She might not be the purely confident seductress, but that much she could handle. The raw anticipation of the ride ahead returned to her veins, pumping blood from head to toe.
“Ready?” he asked, climbing onto the Black Shadow.
He pressed a button on a key fob and one of the wide garage bay doors began to open. The crisp air rolled inside, but she appreciated the cooling effect on her ragged nerves. Jacob put on his helmet, then his sunglasses. Lastly, he pulled on a pair of black leather gloves.
“Yep,” she answered, sidling up to the bike. She realized then that it wasn’t the idea of the ride making her nervous. It was the idea of touching him. Then again, this gave her the perfect excuse, and if this was as close as they got all weekend, she’d find a way to live with it and later weave it into a super hot fantasy. She pulled on her helmet, adjusted the chin strap, and grasped his shoulders as she straddled the bike behind him.
He started the engine. The bike rumbled beneath them. “Hold on tight,” he yelled back to her.
