Summer Kisses (252 page)

Annabel’s eyes and temples pounded. Her teeth and cheeks hurt. Even her hair. Stomach, toes. Everything.

She downed two aspirin with her first cup of coffee, then tried to coax a slice of toast into settling easily on her queasy tummy. She’d like nothing more than to crawl back under the covers and coddle the first hangover of her life with the kid gloves it deserved. But she wouldn’t put it past Max to come and pull her out of bed if she weren’t ready and waiting when he arrived.

Taking her second cup of coffee out on the deck, she cleared her head with deep breaths of fresh spring air. A cheerful flat of pansies taunted her from the back steps. Gardening was one of the many chores that would remain undone today since she’d agreed to go somewhere with Max.

Somewhere with Max.
Yikes.
That sounded both ominous and thrilling.

Where? And why?

Why had he asked? And more importantly, why had she agreed?

Truth to tell, the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach were as much from anxiety as too much champagne. No telling what kind of activity Max considered
fun
. Probably something she considered immoral, illegal, or improper. Although it was hard to imagine anyone doing anything depraved on such a beautiful April morning.

She’d heard about Max’s wicked reputation ever since he came to town. People at work said he led the pack at trying any hare-brained stunt at least twice. And when it came to women, apparently, he was the master of love ‘em, and leave ‘em. Mindy, one of the besotted admins at work boasted that when he loved them, he left them smiling.

Of course, that wasn’t always true.

Annabel had heard DeeDee crying and throwing up in the restroom a few weeks after Max glibly moved on to another victim. Poor deluded DeeDee defended Max instead of blaming him, but then she’d moved to Kansas before the baby arrived. Making a fresh start, in a new job, in a new city, with a new baby. DeeDee hadn’t managed to keep in contact with Annabel beyond a few emails and texts. She got the feeling that DeeDee wanted to put Cincinnati and Max behind her.

In over her head, maybe Annabel should tell Max she wouldn’t go with him today. Maybe she’d tell him she had to be back home by noon. Maybe she’d demand the truth from him about DeeDee. And the intern.

Right. And maybe she’d change her name to Angelina, marry Brad Pitt, and move to France.

She stretched out in the chaise, put her feet up, and closed her eyes. Searching for inner peace, she tried one of the relaxation techniques she’d learned during her husband’s long illness.
Take strength from the ordinary pleasures of your surroundings, and
don’t
think about fondling Max during Wagner’s “The Ride of the Valkyries.”

Dang! Commanding herself not to think about it only made her think about it more.

Robins and larks twittered and fluttered around the bird feeder. A woodpecker tapped into an elm by the fence. Faint music drifted to her from a speaker in the kitchen. Children peddled tricycles on the driveway next to hers.

She pressed her fingertips to her temples as an engine roared nearby. Leave it to Mr. Malone next door to decide to get his yard work done early.

“Anna!” Carly called from inside. “Anna, come quick. You’ve
got
to see this.”

Over the clambering objection of her headache, Annabel rushed through the house to the front porch. Carly stood on the sidewalk talking to one of her friends—a well-built guy wearing a helmet with a tinted face protector and straddling some monstrous-sized motorcycle.

The girl could just save her breath. No way would Annabel let her ride on that deathtrap.

She marched toward Carly just as the biker pulled off his helmet. The shock of discovering “Mad Max” in
Thunderdome
attire almost caused her to miss the bottom porch step.

“Come and see, Anna,” Carly called out. “This is way better than a limo. Isn’t it the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Annabel remained near the house, leery of venturing any closer. “Oh, yes, the very coolest.” Her voice and throat were as dry as dust.

The combination of gleaming black metal and chrome looked so alien, so dangerous,
and so masculine
. So suitable for Max, and so unsuitable for her. Maybe they could go wherever they were going in her car. Or she could follow him if he insisted on taking that hell-on-wheels machine.

“I
so
want to ride on this! Max says he’ll take me for a spin.”

“No!” Her screech jerked the evil little elves with trip hammers inside her head into motion again. Moderating her tone, she pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I mean, no. We probably don’t have time for that, do we, Max?”

Oh, my!
Focusing on Max for the first time, she took in the equally tantalizing and terrifying details of his appearance. This was the Max she’d heard about, the wild dare-devil—reckless and untamed, bold and exciting. What had happened to her semi-civilized, designer-suit-wearing escort from last night? The button-down shirt and tie had disguised the real Max—the one in black leather who scared her to death and set her pulse racing at the same time.

The jacket had two patches on the arm with diamond-shaped logos. One said Good Riders, the other said Awesome Good.

She pointed to the second one and lifted an eyebrow at him. “Bragging?”

“Nope, fact. I’ve got documentation if you want to see it.” He opened a compartment on the back of the bike and tossed her a blue sports drink in a plastic bottle. “Here, drink this.”

“Why?”

“Electrolytes. Good for a hangover.”

“I had some coffee and toast, thank you.” Barely suppressing a shudder, she moved to toss the bottle back to him.

He shook his head. “Rookie mistake. This is better. Drink it and go change.”

She looked down at her clothes. “Why would I change?”

“You can’t go like
that
.” Dismissing her khaki pants, white T-shirt, and sandals with a flick of the wrist, he climbed off the bike and headed her way.

“Why not? You wouldn’t tell me where we’re going, but—”

“You’ll be cold on the bike if you don’t wear a jacket.” He nudged her foot with the tip of a black leather boot. “And for safety’s sake, the open-toed shoes have to go.”

“Oh, right,” she said with fake heartiness. “Like a pair of tennis shoes will be any protection when my body goes skidding across the pavement.”

Her sarcasm provoked him into producing a heavy sigh. “That’s not going to happen, but beginners always forget and put their feet down before the bike comes to a complete stop.”

“You don’t have to worry about me or my feet because I’m not going anywhere on that monstrosity.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Anna,” Carly encouraged. “I’ll bet it’s a lot like riding a roller coaster, isn’t it, Max?”

He looked doubtful. “Do you like roller coasters, Morgan?”

“Not really.”

He tilted his head to the side and considered her for a moment before shrugging and heading toward the bike. Regret pulled at her with each step that thudded against the concrete.

“After last night, I thought there might be more to you than meets the eye, but I guess I was right the other fifty times I met you.” He settled himself on the seat and lifted his helmet from the handlebars. “Nice knowin’ you, kid.  See you around, Morgan.”

“Wait!” Carly turned toward Annabel and actually stomped her foot, an action not seen from her since childhood. “Don’t let him leave without you, Anna. You told me you were tired of living your life inside the safety of a familiar box. This is your chance to step outside it. At least, give it a try.”

Old habits and fears kept Annabel mired in her own front yard. Carly faced Max again. “Will you take her up and down the street once, real slow, just so she can see what it’s like?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “That’d be about as much fun as kissing my sister.” He challenged Annabel with a lift of his eyebrow. “This isn’t a moped, Morgan. When you go for a ride on a Harley, it should be a real ride, a
fast
ride, with nothin’ half-assed about it. You’ve got to feel the noise to enjoy it.”

He was taunting her. She
knew
he was taunting her and still the temptation shimmered before her eyes. If she had ever wanted to ride a motorcycle, this was probably the time. Besides, how fast could he go with Roger shadowing their every movement?

“Hey, wait a minute.” Annabel’s suspicions about Max started to ping on her internal safety radar again. “If this is the second date, where’s Roger?”

“Since I didn’t plan this in advance, I wasn’t on his schedule. He’ll catch up with us as soon as he can.”

“Really.” Skepticism oozed out of both syllables.

He shrugged a monumental shoulder. “I figured you’d prefer it this way. Do you want the world to see your fears and insecurities on Tess’s show if this doesn’t go well?”

“The authorities may need documentation on where to find my body,” she muttered.

“Quit being a pain in the ass. You’ll be fine.” He checked the time on his phone. “Make up your mind.”

Annabel took one pace, then a second one in his direction, before stopping. What would it be like to ride the wild beast for once instead of editing the fun through a viewfinder?

She looked at the motorcycle, so dark and shiny. She looked at Carly, so tense and eager. She looked at Max, so gorgeous and impatient. She looked at her life, so boring and dull. She sighed with disgust and impatience at the lackluster image. Just this once, she wanted desperately to go for it. What in the world was she waiting for?

“Don’t leave!” She whirled toward the house. “I’ll go change.”

“Put on heavier pants and shoes—boots if you’ve got ‘em and wear a jacket.” He barked instructions from the sidewalk. “And don’t forget the drink.”

On the porch, she turned and gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

“Hey, it’s for your own good.”

“Or for my funeral.”

His laughter floated to her as she mounted the stairs to her bedroom. Annabel pulled her hair free of its perennial bun. She gathered it into a low ponytail and bound it together with an elastic band. Considering how many pants and shirts she donned and discarded while trying to block the terror of venturing out on the first wild and unprotected ride of her life, she changed clothes in record time. Carly bounced in and vetoed her final choice of a yellow Polo shirt and v-neck sweater with Annabel’s favorite black slacks.

“Biker chicks don’t dress preppy,” Carly teased.

“I am
not
a biker chick.” Although the possibility sizzled through Annabel’s imagination for one tantalizing moment.

“Not yet anyway.” Carly ducked out of the room and returned with trendier items from her closet. “Try these.”

After the switch, the only thing Annabel still wore that belonged to her was her underwear. Carly’s clunky boots covered her feet from toe to ankle. A formfitting, midriff-skimming black knit shirt topped a pair of skinny black jeans that hugged her legs.

Annabel tugged and pulled the snug-fitting tee away from her midriff. “You don’t think it’s too, um, tight?”

“No, it’s not.” Carly left Anna’s sensible poplin jacket on the bed and handed her a funky, studded denim one instead. “Don’t worry. Wear this over it.”

“I don’t know.” Annabel slid her arms through the sleeves and stared at herself in the mirror.

“It’s not perfect,” Carly said, “but it’s the best we can do on short notice. Now,
go
, before he gets tired of waiting.”

“Okay, okay.” Annabel detoured to the bathroom. Before Carly shooed her down the stairs and out the door, she popped a couple more aspirin into her mouth and slugged them down with the blue wonder drink.

She returned to Max for inspection. Waiting for her on the porch, he looked up from texting and gave her a long assessing look. “Better” was his only comment. Tucking his phone into his jacket pocket, he encircled her small hand with his gigantic one and tugged her toward the bike.  “Let’s roll.”

Carly trailed behind them. He handed Annabel a helmet, then took her purse, looked at it in disgust, and stuffed it in a saddlebag-thingy. She about ripped her ears off when she jammed the helmet onto her head, then fumbled fastening her chinstrap. It took her so long to adjust the only barrier she’d have between concrete and a cracked skull that Max finally tugged off a riding glove and stepped up to takeover.

Strong, capable hands snapped the strap into place before he flicked her nose with his finger. “All set. Hop on.” He slid his glove back on.

She eyed man and machine with trepidation. “Any advice?”

“Relax,” Carly suggested.

“Put your visor down or you’ll get bugs in your teeth, and lean the same way I do on the curves,” Max said. “Put these in.” He dug into his pocket and held out a small plastic box.

“Earplugs?” She wrinkled her nose. “No, thanks.” She’d prefer to hear the reassuring whoop-whoop-whoop of an emergency vehicle pulling up beside her if it came to that.

He shrugged then stuck the box back in his pocket. “Then, climb aboard and hang on.”

Her heart thumped a mile a minute as she swung her leg over and perched behind him. She left as much room between them as possible—all of two inches if she measured right. “Hang on to what?”

“Me.” With the devil’s own grin, he took her hands and clasped them around his waist. His overwhelming presence smothered her, and she pulled back.

“Where are we going?” she asked, stalling.

“We’re going on a day trip with my biker club.”

“Oh, my.” Her hand covered her heart as she pictured herself cowering in a gang of Hells Angels, while they drank whisky straight from the bottle, smoked dope, juggled switchblades, and compared tattoos of naked women.

“You got a problem with that?”

Maybe she
should
back out, after all. Now, while she was still on her home turf. Or maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she imagined. “Do you have a tattoo?”

He smiled like the devil. “Sure. Want to see it?” His hands went to his belt buckle like he was ready to lower his jeans.

“No!” Swallowing hard, she leaned forward to whisper too low for Carly to hear. “Will there be nudity or drugs?”