Authors: Susan Fox
Body Heat (24 page)
But it seemed Maura was thinking something very different, from the shocked expression on her face. “We can’t do this,” she told him.
What the fuck? “Are you on about liability again?”
“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head vigorously. “I mean, yes, it is, but not that way.”
For a while there, he’d thought they could communicate just fine. Now he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
“I’m supervising your community service,” she said.
“Yeah. So?”
“It wouldn’t look good.”
Her dating the gardener. That’s what she meant. Heat—and this time not the heat of arousal—rose in him. Pissed off, he snapped, “Then just forget it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you mad about?”
Was she so high and mighty, she didn’t even see that she’d just insulted him? “Who gives a shit about appearances?” He used the swear word on purpose.
“I do, because I care about my job and I’ve applied for a promotion,” she said crisply. “And you should, because you don’t want anything to jeopardize your community service.” She gazed intently up at him. “You’re impulsive, and that can be rather charming. But you don’t always think through to the consequences. Like when you took Fred Dykstra for that bike ride.”
“That’s better than being so freaking obsessed about consequences you never have any fun at all.”
“There’s a difference between—No, wait.” She took in a breath, let it out. “Before we need to call Fred to negotiate, might I suggest there’s a middle ground?”
He took a breath, too, remembering what the older man had said earlier. “A compromise?”
She nodded. “There’s virtue to your position, and to mine. I do want to go for a ride with you, Jesse. But that’s personal. It’s separate from our work here.”
He liked how she said “our work,” as if they were a team. “What are you saying?”
“We leave separately.” She considered. “You go first, and ride your bike over to the mall parking lot. I’ll come along five minutes later and drive over to meet you.”
She didn’t want anyone to know she was seeing him
personally,
which still pissed him off. But he heard what she was saying about her job and his community service. If he thought about what Barry Adamson would say about Jesse coming onto his boss . . .
personally,
which still pissed him off. But he heard what she was saying about her job and his community service. If he thought about what Barry Adamson would say about Jesse coming onto his boss . . .
“Okay, Maura, it’ll be our secret.” And in a way, that made it even sexier.
Maura darted to the ladies’ room, where she splashed cold water on her face and hands, trying to cool the heat that raced through her. It was a bike ride. Not a date. Jesse’d never want to date a woman like her. Would he? And of course she didn’t want to date a man like him.
A virile, skilled, hot-as-sin man.
No, a man who was her opposite, who didn’t even like to read, whom Agnes and Timothy would hate.
Jesse had kissed her. But just because she was there. Not because he was attracted. Right? And she’d kissed him back because she was surprised and, okay, attracted, but only in a hormonal way.
He’d touched her lower back when they were leaving her office. To her, it had felt intimate. But for him, it was probably just a habit. He did it with all the women he . . . what? Dated? But this wasn’t a date.
He’d asked her for a bike ride because . . . Well, maybe because they’d been getting along, almost like friends. Or because he thought she was overreacting when she insisted on waivers and he wanted to prove that it wasn’t dangerous.
Dangerous. Hopping onto a huge, black, throbbing Harley, behind Jesse. That sounded plenty dangerous to her, and it had way more to do with the man than the motorcycle.
She brushed her teeth, took her hair down and combed it, then pulled it back up, and brushed on a touch of brown mascara and a thin coat of pink lip gloss. Afterward, she looked exactly the same as when she’d started.
Still, some purely female instinct had her dabbing gardenia perfume at her throat and into the small amount of cleavage created by the peach bra that, for some silly reason, she’d worn under her tailored shirt.
“Aagh,” she muttered to her reflection. “You’re hopeless. It’s not a date.”
All the same, it was personal, not business, and it was the first time in her life she’d had a personal engagement with a totally hot man.
By now Jesse should have a good head start. She hurried toward the front door of the building, anticipation quickening her step. A hot man, a motorcycle—this was shaping up to be the most exciting night of her life.
She rounded a corner, entered the reception area, and—“What?”
The disagreeable Nedda was at the desk, avidly watching as three other people conversed. Fred Dykstra and Lizzie Gilmore stood hand in hand, talking to Jesse. Jacket hooked casually over his shoulder, he was laughing at something one of them had said, and didn’t look in any hurry to leave.
What part of leaving separately had he failed to grasp?
Squaring her shoulders, she marched toward them. “Good evening, everyone.”
“Hey, Ms. Mahoney,” Jesse said, that wicked gleam in his eye. “I was just heading out when Fred and Lizzie came in. They were telling me about their dinner.”
“We taxied to the waterfront for a seafood dinner,” Fred said, “and ate outside. It’s a lovely evening.”
“Indeed it is,” Lizzie said. “You young people should get out there and enjoy it.” Her gaze flicked between Maura and Jesse.
Maura noted Jesse’s spontaneous grin, then glanced past him to see Nedda staring with unabashed interest.
“An excellent idea,” Maura said briskly. “I’m heading out now.”
“Jesse,” Fred said, “you walk the girl out. Make sure she gets to her car safe and sound.”
“Somehow I manage on my own every other night,” she said dryly.
“Don’t argue with a hostage negotiator,” Jesse said. “Come on, Ms. Mahoney.” He gestured toward the door.
Huffing a little, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed, she said, “I surrender.”
They all said their good nights, and she and Jesse walked away in silence.
Outside, the night air was soft and scented, the street silent. He said quietly, “You really want to meet at the mall?”
She was deliberating, when he moved closer and again rested his hand on the dip of her lower back, just above the waistband of her pants. Even through a layer of silk, she could feel his heat and it made her own skin tingle. “Uh . . .”
“Let’s just hop on and ride.” His hand left her back and she felt the loss, then a moment later he grasped her hand.
His action had the effect of banishing all rational thought. Jesse Blue was holding her hand—and not just to steer her to his bike, or he wouldn’t be linking his fingers through hers and squeezing gently. Sexy warmth pulsed up her arm and radiated through her body. Was this really happening?
When they arrived at his Harley, she realized something. “Oh, no. We can’t. I don’t have a helmet.” She should have known this was too good to be true.
“You sure do believe in following the rules, Ms. Mahoney,” he teased, giving her hand another squeeze.
“But it’s not safe,” she protested. “And it’s illegal. And—Oh,” she said as he reached over to the far handlebar and unhooked a second helmet. “You brought an extra?”
“A guy can hope. And look where it got me.”
What had he hoped? That he’d find a woman who wanted to ride with him? Or that . . . Had he actually hoped to take her, Maura, out on his bike?
He stowed her purse in a container on the bike, then held out his jacket. “This’ll keep you warm.”
She’d never in her life worn a guy’s jacket, or shirt, or anything else. “But won’t you be cold?”
He shot her an outraged look that had her smothering a giggle, then held out the jacket so she could slide her arms into it.
She wrapped the oversized leather around her, reveling in the thought of his body inside it. “Thank you.”
“Looks good on you.” He ran a finger over her cheek, his rough skin making the caress even more sensual. With a sexy smile, he went on. “But then, most things would.”
The sheer ridiculousness of that compliment made her finally realize what was happening. This was another of her sexy fantasies.
Don’t let me wake up!
“It’s a great jacket,” she told him. “Beautiful leather.”
“I’ve got three possessions that matter: my bike, my jacket, and my giant TV. That first day, I liked how you treated my jacket.”
She ducked her head and smiled, remembering how she’d smelled it. Hmm. In a fantasy, she could be bold. And so she slanted a teasing smile up at him. “That first day, I smelled your jacket.”
“You what?”
“You know. Smelled it, so I could smell you.”
Something flared in his eyes. “And now it’ll smell like you. Gardenia. You didn’t wear that perfume before.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Wonder what got you wearing perfume,” he teased. “Couldn’t have had anything to do with me, could it?”
She punched his arm. “Arrogant.” She’d done it for herself, like wearing the peach lingerie, because it made her feel feminine and sensual. But yes, Jesse had been in the back of her mind, the way he always was. “Actually,” she said airily, “I was hoping to win Fred Dykstra away from Lizzie Gilmore.”
He chuckled. “That first day, I never guessed you had a sense of humor.”
“That first day, I probably didn’t.” In fact, the real her, as compared to this Maura-in-a-fantasy, probably still didn’t. “Now, didn’t someone promise me a bike ride?” She couldn’t wait to climb up on that throbbing machine and wrap her arms around Jesse. She wanted to cram as much as possible into this fantasy before she woke up.
He passed her a helmet and helped her do it up, his fingers lingering on her skin. Then he put on his own, climbed onto the bike, and waited for her to swing on behind him. How silly to have worn pants in this fantasy. If she’d been in a skirt, she would have hiked it up her thighs, her naked flesh sandwiching Jesse’s jean-clad hips and thighs.
“You’re into rules,” he said, “so here they are.” He reached back to find her hands, where they rested on her own thighs, and tugged her arms around him.
Oh, yes, this was good. She felt his heat, his solid muscles, through his tee. And as she leaned closer, she caught the erotic scent of fresh-cut grass and hardworking male.
“Keep your arms around my waist,” he said, “and hang on tight.”
“Ooh, there’s a tough one,” said the Maura-in-a-fantasy woman, tightening her grip and pressing her breasts shamelessly against his back.
He sucked in a breath and growled, in a fake grumbly tone, “Damn it, stop distracting me.”
She had the power to distract him? But of course she did. She was sensual Maura, wearing peach lace lingerie and gardenia perfume.
“Here’s the other thing to know,” he said. “When we take a curve, the bike’ll lean over, into the curve. Your body will want to lean in the other direction, to counterbalance it.”
She nodded. “That seems logical.”
“Maybe, but it’s wrong. You lean into the curve.”
“Lean in?” What did he mean?
“Just plaster yourself to my back and follow where my body goes.”
“I can do that.” And what woman wouldn’t be thrilled to bits to follow that rule?
Jesse could hardly believe that the prissy woman who’d looked down her nose at him was now twined around him. That she was as into him as he was into her.
That she’d smelled his freaking jacket.
Thank God he’d driven this bike so often he could do it in his sleep, because Maura was one giant distraction. At first she’d been a “little old lady” rider, stiff and cautious, but by the time they got out of the city and onto a country road, she’d loosened up. She pressed the fronts of her thighs into the backs of his and squished her breasts against his back. Her hands rested just above his belt. If she moved them down a couple of inches she’d realize what she was doing to him. But hell, she probably knew anyhow.
Now, he wanted to make her whoop. He wanted to hear the classy Ms. Mahoney let out a whoop. Knowing this road was almost always deserted at night, he whipped the bike along the straightaways and curled it deep into the curves.
She clung tight as a burr, leaning into the curves right along with him. Her helmet clunked against his as she said something he couldn’t catch. Was she asking him to slow down? “Louder,” he yelled at her.
“Faster!” she hollered back.
He laughed and the wind snatched the sound from his lips. There was a hill coming up and if he popped the bike over the top, it would fly a few yards. And so he made it happen.
Maura whooped like a banshee, and he let go with an answering one as her arms crushed his stomach. Man, he was glad he’d met this woman.
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