CHAPTER 11 #2
He pressed a button on the key fob, and as they approached the open trunk, Claire could see a cooler, a stack of blankets, and what looked to be a rolled-up fringed pashmina.
He made quick work of loading the food and snapped the cooler top shut.
His gaze caught hers. “Top on or off?”
His eyes were so unbelievably blue. The sun constricted his pupils, making his irises look huge.
Their outer rings were dark blue, but the inner part wasn’t much lighter, in a unique sapphire shade she had never seen on anyone else.
Maybe the color of the Bentley reflected in them too, but gazing into them, she saw—
“Penny?”
“Hmm?” His mouth was doing that thing that made the dimple pop, and she fought the urge to sip at it.
“The top. Of my car. Would you like it up or down?”
“It’s your car.”
“That’s right. But you’re my passenger. What’s your preference?”
She’d done oh-so-many things to that mouth. Flash vision of her slipping two fingers past his lips for him to suck, and then, she’d sat on—
“What are you thinking?”
His eyes were now gleaming in amusement, and his voice held that sexual undertone that made her heart skip a beat and her pulse pound at her throat.
She licked her lips. “Um … topless.”
His grin was swift and beautiful. “Topless is my favorite too.”
He grabbed the white pashmina, unfurled it with one flick of his wrist, and offered it to her.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“Your head. We don’t want that pretty hair of yours to get all tangled and messy.” He leaned in close to murmur directly in her ear. “Unless you want me doing it.”
·
Everything about the Bentley was superb, from the exquisitely crafted dark blue leather upholstery with orange accents to the sleek instrumentation in chrome and the modern carbon fiber trim. But it was the ride that put it over the top for Claire.
She adjusted the pashmina and felt a smile spread slowly across her face. “She glides.”
Ian’s face was full of pride. “She does.”
There was no way to drive fast along this road, which made the ride enjoyable. Just enough sun and wind to caress her face, and the soft scarf kept her ears comfortable too.
“Wow. Such an elegant ride for a twelve-cylinder engine.”
She noted that he didn’t ask how she knew it was a twelve-cylinder. So many men acted as if they had a monopoly on car knowledge.
“When I need power, it’s right there for me.” He ran a hand over the top of the steering wheel. “It’s a British road missile when it wants to be. They no longer make it in V-12. Now, all you can get is a V-8 hybrid. This is a 2022, and I’m so glad I pulled the trigger when I did.”
“I like how the orange band trim around the center console mirrors that on the door panels. It’s unusual attention to detail. Did you choose these colors?”
“Yeah. I had a lot of fun with the configurator and tried every combo imaginable, but I kept coming back to this. I take it you approve?”
She nodded. “You have good taste.”
“I know I do.” He turned his head and looked at her for a few good seconds before turning his attention back to the road. “Bucket list item. I got it as soon as I could afford it. It was either that or a CVO Limited.”
Claire’s eyes widened.
He noticed. “It’s a Har—”
“A Harley!” She knew exactly what a CVO was. A thrill ran through her, from the top of her head to her navel. This was the last thing she would have expected of him. The very last thing.
“Yeah.” He raised a brow. “You know about bikes too?”
“Not as much as I know about cars.”
“What got you into cars?”
“I’ve been fascinated by cars for as long as I can remember. While other girls liked Barbies, I collected Hot Wheels. I think it all started when my mom would have me name the makes and models of cars we saw on the road. I used to get carsick, and she used that game as a distraction.”
“Did it work?”
“I became so obsessed that I went to work at a used-car dealership all through college.” She grinned. “I was the appraiser for trade-ins and got to test drive everything.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like a dream job for a college kid.”
“It was.” She ran a fingertip over a chromed round air vent. “This is beautiful. But that CVO would have made a much smaller dent in your bank account.”
“Yeah. I got a dent in my heart, though, having to give up that dream. I’ve wanted a bike since I learned what one was. My bedroom walls were plastered with Harley pics.”
“What kept you from getting it?”
“My grandmother.”
Another surprise. “Really?”
“She said I either forget the bike and get the car, or she’d disown me.”
“And you—”
“Oh, I got the car.”
“Wow. Her opinion must carry a lot of weight.”
A fond smile curved his lips. “An understatement. I wasn’t going to upset her, though my dad lobbied hard for the bike.
She never let him have one either.” His smile turned sly.
“Dad and I used to ride on the down-low with a couple of my friends. We kept our helmets hidden at their house. She never found out, and I sure as hell hope she never does.” He slowed, approaching a red light. “How did you know what a CVO was?”
It was her turn to pull a sly smile. “I have a Harley.”
He braked a bit too hard, making them jerk forward and back. “Sorry about that,” he murmured.
The next second, she felt the full force of his stare. “You. Have a Harley.”
“Yeah. Why is that such a shock to you?”
He considered for a moment. Stared into her eyes, so intently that she had to look elsewhere. The elsewhere turned out to be his mouth, so she had to jerk her gaze away from that too.
“Actually … it isn’t,” he finally said. “How often do you ride?”
The light turned green, thank God, so he had to resume driving.
“Every chance I get. There is … I belong to a group, several of us, all women. We call ourselves the Hogettes. We try to get together every weekend, weather and work permitting.”
“You dress up too, the leather riding gear, the whole thing?” His voice was a bit lower. Perhaps this discovery turned him on as much as it did her.
“It wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t, now, would it?”
“You’re right. It wouldn’t.” His lips twitched. “The Hogettes?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I know, not very original. But we figured the tie-in with the DC football team, you know … at the time, we thought it was clever. As a disclaimer, I will say we’d consumed a few margaritas when we came up with it.”
“OK, I have to ask.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How did you get into riding?”
“A boyfriend.”
“Oh? How long ago?”
He turned left, and she spotted a wooden sign that read “Kraft Azalea Garden.” The landscape changed swiftly to giant leafy trees with multiple trunks shading the winding road.
“Five years ago. He didn’t last. His bike stayed.”
He slanted her a questioning look.
She smirked. “I was making all the payments.”
“Ah.”
Moments later, he steered into a parking lot and began backing into a space. She couldn’t help watching his hands as he expertly handled the wheel. In the short-sleeved shirt, his forearms were exposed, and she licked her lips, remembering how she’d run her tongue over his pulse point and nipped.
God. She’d done a lot of biting that night. Almost as if she’d wanted to consume him.
He set the parking brake. “Well. You’ll have to give me a ride sometime.”
I already did.
The thought came so fast, she almost said it out loud. She snorted to stifle a laugh.
“What color would you have chosen?” she quickly asked before he could demand what was so funny.
“Red Glide,” he replied without hesitation.
She should have known he’d want the one with flames. Of course he would.
Hot.
She’d met the man wearing a tux. Never would she have pictured him in gear and on a bike, but now that she knew he rode, the image that formed in her mind had her panting. A leather jacket and skintight pants, biker boots, that bright blond hair, and a black-and-red CVO between his legs.
Oh my. Too bad she’d never get to see that.
“You would have rocked that one,” she said.
He looked a little wistful. “Yeah, well, that ship sailed a long time ago.” He reached for the door handle. “I’m starved. Let’s eat.”
“I never knew about this place.” Claire pulled off the pashmina and reached for the door handle, but Ian was running around to open the door for her.
Overhead, trees stretched toward the sky, shading the winding narrow paths. It was serene and beautiful and quiet and felt like a secret garden.
“I never knew about it either. My sister suggested it. She likes to come here and read. Apparently, a lot of people do.”
Opening the trunk, he handed her a blanket and took out the cooler. “Where would you prefer? Should we find a bench or spread a blanket by the water?”
“You have blankets?”
She peered inside his trunk, but all she could see was some sort of folded gold foil, and her eyes widened, her mind immediately going to those Magnums of his.
His lips twitched. “That is a thermal rescue one.” He pushed it aside and pulled out a large red-and-black checked blanket. “Take this one.”
Claire noted that there were a couple more in there. “Why do you have so many blankets in your trunk?”
“I live in North Dakota, remember? It’s a safety issue up there. You can’t be caught without one in the winter.” He grasped the cooler handle. “What do you say we go eat by the water? We can always move if it gets too hot.”
She tucked the blanket under her arm and reached in to pick up the carton with the shakes.
“OK. Which way?”
He started toward the left. “It should be this way.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw on the GPS screen.”
She hadn’t even glanced at the map; she’d been too caught up in him. Claire tried to swallow down a knot of nervousness, but it refused to budge.
Sure enough, soon the lake came into view, the gentle wind making the sparkling water ripple.
He set the cooler down and reached for the blanket. “I’ll take that.” Claire watched his biceps work as he spread the large wool square on the ground, the sun making his hair look even brighter. With the grace of a feline, he eased himself down and looked up at her, patting the space beside him.