Chapter 4
Kara told herself that it was relief and not disappointment she felt when she happened to glance at the back of the courtroom and found the place where he had been sitting vacant. She had no idea why he was there in the first place and was happy he had seen it fit to leave.
On top of her stress, she didn't want to add a multibillionaire biker, a study in contrast, to her already overburdened mind.
She had enough on her plate. And William was pressuring her.
After being content to wait for two years, he was suddenly eager to push up the wedding date. No doubt with her mother's approval.
She had her head down attending to a text message on her phone and did not see him until she was almost at her vehicle.
Something made her look up. She froze, her footsteps faltering.
He was leaning on the driver's side of her vehicle, looking for all the world as if he belonged there.
His arms were crossed at his chest, the muscles in his forearms well defined.
His hair was fluttering in the breeze, and his outfit of faded denims and black T-shirt made him look far too dangerous and appealing.
She attributed the increased tempo of her heart to extreme annoyance and nothing more.
"Mr. Stanhope."
His lips quirked in acknowledgment that she had discovered who he was.
"Kara." He deliberately used her first name, amused that he had the ability to make her flustered.
"How may I help you?"
He continued to lean against the door. Other than muscling him away, she had no choice but to wait.
"How's the car?" he asked.
"I had it checked out yesterday. It's running very well."
"Good to know." Tawny eyes wandered over the neat-as-a-pin blouse and jacket that did not show an inch of skin, and he wondered why he was so intrigued. "You did good in that courtroom. Had the jurors almost eating out of your hands."
In spite of herself, she found her spirit perking up.
"I'm not so sure about that. The defense attorney is very talented."
"Alfred is a posturing peacock. He's more into lining his repertoire than caring about his clients. And the defendant is as guilty as hell."
More perking up, but she kept her face expressionless. "I cannot discuss the case with you."
His amusement increased. "Of course not."
"You seem to be familiar with the defense attorney."
"Much to my regret. How about coffee?"
She blinked at his rapid change of topic.
"What?"
"There's a half decent diner a couple of blocks away."
"I-"
"I have an extra helmet."
She turned to look at the motorcycle. "No." She shook her head.
"Afraid?"
"I don't- I've never- I would never-" She took a deep breath and realized she was babbling. She was a grown-ass woman who could very well say no if needed. "I have to go."
"How about lunch then?"
"No. Would you mind moving?"
"I get it." He stayed right where he was. "I figured you for the careful type. Never stepping foot out of the line drawn for you."
She bristled. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He deliberately let his gaze wander over her blouse. "You're buttoned up."
"I'm what?"
He gestured to her suit in general, fascinated by the sparkle in her eyes. Perhaps not so timid after all. "Your clothes say a lot about you. I bet you never broke a rule in your life."
Because that was humiliatingly true, she felt anger burning inside her chest. "You don't know me."
"I'm starting to. Come on, Kara, don't you want to just let go and live a little?"
His deep voice was so persuasive, she almost abandoned her stance and said to heck with it. Almost.
"I'm living well enough, thank you very much.
And I don't see why getting behind you on that death trap can be construed as living.
Besides, I have a boyfriend- er- a fiancé.
" She had just blurted that out and realized suddenly that William had never even suggested giving her a ring. And she had never asked for one.
"Which is it?" he queried. "Boyfriend or fiancé?"
"Fiancé."
He glanced at her left hand, with the ringless finger.
"I see."
The way he said it had her shoulders going stiff and her tone defensive. "If you'd move out of my way-"
"A lawyer too?"
"What?"
"The boyfriend/fiancé. Lawyer?"
"As a matter of fact."
He nodded, a smile cruising his lips. "Let me guess: buttoned up and more than likely repressed. How long have you been seeing each other?"
"That's none of your business and he happens to be a respectable person. Not-" She started to gesture at the tattoo on his neck before realizing what she was doing and dropped her hand.
"Ah. My tattoos offend you."
"No. I mean, I don't care. Just please get out of my way."
"What if I try and get rid of them?"
"What?" She blinked and stopped as she started to move forward.
"What if I got rid of the tats? Would that make a difference?"
"No. And why would you want to do that?"
"To impress you." He eased off the vehicle and started forward.
Kara forced herself to stay where she was, even though her heart was beating fast and her knees were shaking.
"I don't want- Please stop."
He did, right in front of her. When he lifted a hand to brush back her hair from her forehead, she went as still as a statue. His finger lingered, trailing down her cheek and sending heat coursing through her.
"What're you doing?" She hated that her voice was thin and wavery.
"Satisfying my curiosity. Your skin is even softer than I imagined."
"Please stop touching me."
"You might be interested to know that's not all I want to do.
" He was close enough for her to see the flecks of green in his tawny eyes.
"I've been curious since I got an eyeful of you when your vehicle broke down at the bike stop.
It's the damnedest thing. Heck of a situation we got here, counselor.
I want to see more of you, and I have to tell you, I do not give a damn about your so-called boyfriend/fiancé.
" He picked up her left hand and brought it to his lips.
"No rings on this finger, which means I'm free to throw in my hat.
I'm curious enough to want to open those buttons. "
Everything inside her went still, except the blood rushing to her head and making her dizzy.
He topped her by several inches, even with her wearing heels, and his touch was like a brand of hot poker walking over her skin.
She could not break the spell he seemed to have woven around her, and right there in the public parking lot of the courthouse, she felt herself melting.
Zane felt the unusual thudding of his heart and the blood beating inside his body like a drum.
Her nearness, the feel of her satiny skin beneath his fingers, the very essence of her, the perfume filling his nostrils, all combined and went straight to his head, turning his brain into pure mush.
He was going to kiss her. Had to taste those lips, and he knew instinctively that one taste would never be enough.
Not likely to be enough. His hand cupped her cheek as he drew nearer to her and could feel the texture of her lips on his.
Kara swayed and would have molded herself against him, except for the sudden burst of laughter from nearby. The spell snapped and dissolved, and with it, the daze that held her in its grip. Mortification at what she had almost allowed did the rest and had her tearing out of his arms.
Without a word, she raced toward the vehicle and, with a lack of control unfamiliar to her, jerked the door open and got in.
He stood there, watching as she peeled out of the parking lot.
Going over to his bike, he dropped down, his limbs still shaking, heart still thundering.
"Jesus. Jesus Christ," he whispered feelingly.
Dragging his hands through his hair, he fisted his fingers in the strands violently enough to have his scalp burning.
The need inside him was burning so hot, he was jumping.
He wanted her, and dammit to hell, that was too tame a term for what he was feeling.
He was craving a woman he had just met, and he hated to admit that he had never done that before.
He should walk away. Common sense and self-preservation warned him to walk away.
She wasn't his bloody type. She had a guy; she had made a point of telling him so.
But damned if he could. His body and his intellect had decided for him. He was sticking. She might not like his damn tattoos, but he wasn't going to stay away.
"Well, Ms. Saunders." He reached for his helmet and dragged it on. "Let the pursuit begin."
*****
She took the sandwich she had brought with her and went to the park.
It had always been her go-to place whenever she had no idea how to feel and what to do.
So, leaving the vehicle under the towering oak tree, she sat on a bench facing the duck pond and tried eating the sandwich.
Ham and cheese with olives and pickles on rye.
Her favorite. Only this time, she couldn't drum up the appetite for it.
She had almost let him kiss her. If the person or persons approaching had come by a minute later, she would have locked lips with him.
A stranger, a man who wasn't even her type.
A man who sported tattoos and rode a bike.
A man who was the son of a multibillionaire and who hung out with seedy characters.
She felt the immediate shame that she was stereotyping.
She didn't know these people, and it was wrong on every level to label them.
But she was a smart, sensible individual. She was good, she thought fiercely. He had called her "buttoned up" or whatever. Nothing was wrong with that. The fact that she wasn't a wild partygoing type wasn't cause for shame.