Summer Kisses (257 page)

Much to her surprise, she loved the exhilarating freedom of riding on the motorcycle. She loved the wind rushing past her. She loved watching the scenery fly by in a swirl of color. And to be honest, she loved clinging to Max and hugging his rock-hard thighs between hers.

She regretted not shedding her all-too-sensible tendencies long before this. The ideas and visual images for the biker documentary kicking around inside her head could wait another day. Tomorrow, her humdrum, responsibility-laden life returned. But today, she’d live it up.

She’d go to the ball like Cinderella. She’d rub elbows with a motorcycle gang, drug dealers, and—best of all—with mad, bad, and dangerous-to-know Max Williams.

She’d be fun, funny, and flirtatious.

Maybe.

She’d try her darnedest to be wild, free, and daring.

But only a little, she amended, as she washed squished bugs off her visor.

She might dabble with playing with fire, but she didn’t want to get burned, and Max was a raging inferno. Just the memory of his kiss packed enough heat to set her hair aflame. Another kiss like the last one and she’d spontaneously combust.

She resolved not to miss a thing when the drug bust went down. An undercover story could vanish with the first hint of suspicion. Of course, Max had to act like there wasn’t anything going on. Keeping a close eye on him for the rest of the afternoon wouldn’t be a hardship.

Maybe she’d reveal a hidden flair for covering real news stories. Out of instinct, she’d copied down the license plate number of the Cadillac Max had snuck off to meet.

Yep, this could send her career in a whole new direction.

Leaving the restroom, she looked around for Bruno or Ponytail Guy. Bruno, in his blue bandana, lurked at the edge of the parking lot talking to Dick and another suspicious-looking dude with a buzz cut and steely eyes. His cold, scary eyes gave her the shivers even from five feet away. When he flipped open his leather jacket to reach for a pack of cigarettes, Annabel glimpsed a gun tucked into a shoulder holster. She stifled a gasp.

With an anxious glance, she located Max not too far away, checking over his bike and chatting with Roger.

Max smiled when he spotted her looking his way. Putting her finger to her lips, she motioned him over.

“What?” he whispered.

“Look.” She jerked her chin toward Dick and the pair of suspects. “It’s one of the drug dealers talking to Dick. The other one is carrying a concealed weapon. Let’s get closer so we can hear what’s going on.”

 Max crossed his arms and studied her, scowling instead of heaping praise or approval on her for her keen detecting skills. “I could let you go on like this indefinitely, you know, but I guess I won’t. Come on.”

“Where?”

“I’m going to introduce you to your drug ring.”

“But—But—”

“Just follow my lead.” He circled her wrist with his fingers and pulled her along with him to the trio of men. “How’s it going, Bruno?  Kirby.” He nodded to both men. “I don’t think either one of you have met Annabel Morgan. Annabel, this is Dan Kirby. He’s a detective with the Cincinnati Police Department.” Max’s eyes twinkled as he headed off her next question. “Vice, not Narcotics.”

“Detective Kirby.” Beginning to comprehend the extent of her mistake, she considered hiding behind a tree before the conversation went any further.

“Ma’am.” The detective took her measure with a flick of his eyes.

“One of my neighbors is on the Vice Squad,” she said. “Jim Dennison? You know him?”

“Maybe,” Kirby grudgingly allowed. Just like Jim, Kirby had mastered holding his cards close to his chest.

Max shot her another quick grin. “And this other ne’er-do-well is Dr. Bruce Townsend, He’s an immunologist doing AIDS research at the University.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor.” She swallowed back a big dose of embarrassment. “That’s a fascinating field.”

Bruno reached out to shake her hand. “Plenty of challenges.”

“He’s close to getting FDA approval on a faster-acting experimental drug that inhibits the condition with fewer side-effects.”

“Wonderful,” she managed to choke out as she looked around. There were trees aplenty, but now she wanted something bigger to hide behind—like a mountain. She two-stepped to the side, but Max clamped his hand onto her shoulder. He wasn’t going to let her off that easy.

“No, it’s
my
pleasure, but call me Bruno.”

“Bruno, then.”

“And did I mention that Dick is a judge?” Max asked so smugly she wanted to kick him in the shins. Or higher.

“No, I don’t think you did.” Her annoyance with him for misleading her made it difficult to squeeze out the words.

“Then, officially, I’d like you to meet Appellate Judge Richard T. Ubecki.”

“Judge Ubecki, of course. I’ve seen your picture in the paper many times, but I didn’t recognize you without your robes.”

“You just keep right on calling me Dick. As you might guess, we don’t stand on ceremony here. To keep everyone on the same footing, we leave our titles at home.”

“You look a little shell-shocked there, Annabel.” Max rubbed a hand up and down her spine, and she jerked away. “Something wrong?”

“N-no.” She felt winded but determined to stand her ground and own up to her mistake—somewhat. “I guess I had the wrong impression of what kind of people ride Harleys and belong to motorcycle clubs.”

“Common mistake,” Bruno said.

“You should see the way people race to lock up their valuables when we pull into a small town,” Detective Kirby said. “And we bring more law enforcement with us than they could muster on their best day.”

“Contrary to the media stereotype,” Dick added, “most of us aren’t rebels or outlaws. We ride to get away from the stress of our jobs and raise money for local charities—not to loot or terrorize the locals.”

“After the risks some of us take at work,” Bruno put in, “this seems tame in comparison.”

“Spending the day with you has sure opened my eyes.” Annabel prayed they’d never know how blind she’d been.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself,” Bruno said. “A lot of outsiders—females, especially—don’t like to come to these all-day events.”

“Usually a two-hour ride is as long as my wife can last, bless her heart,” Dick said.

“You’ve sure been a good sport, Annabel,” the detective praised. “Come ride with us again anytime.”

“First, we have to finish this one.” Max glanced at his watch.

“Spread the word to mount up.” Dick’s voice rang with authority she now recognized sprang from the courtroom and not from the life of a drug lord or biker chieftain.

As she climbed up behind Max, Annabel left the visor of her helmet up. She needed to let the wind blow the rest of her misconceptions out her head.

“It’s not a big deal,” Max told her at the end of the day. The whole group had circled back to The Hoghouse for a post-ride bonfire and pig roast. “None of them knew what you were thinking.”

Standing with Max in line for the delicious-smelling food being cooked in the open air, the flames from the roaring fire threw additional heat onto her cheeks. She pressed her palms over them again, knowing she deserved the laughter he tried to suppress.

“Come with me.” He cupped her elbow. Guiding her away from the food, the fire, and the ready-to-party riders, he led her through the cool air and down a path to a lookout over the river.

The softness and romance of twilight crept around them, but she barreled right through it, focused on her inner turmoil. “You told me to keep an open mind, but did I? No-oo.” She cringed again. “I wanted to behave less sensibly—not senselessly.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. Some of them dress and act the stereotype to promote the image on purpose. It gives them a chance to break loose and forget they spend their weekdays as one of the suits, kissing corporate asses and playing by the rules.”

“You don’t.”

He studied the river undulating around the bend, then turned to lean against the rail. “Everybody does in some way or another.”

“Maybe so, but I wanted to fit in with the club. I thought I was on the adventure of my life, and I wanted them to like me.” She wanted
him
to like her. “But I had to start judging them, looking for a way to keep them at arm’s length. What an idiot I am.” Pacing back and forth, she pounded one hand with the other.

“Are you done yet?” Max hid a yawn behind his hand.

She’d expected him to react with jokes or sympathy or even logic, not boredom or impatience. Embarrassed by her outburst, she stopped pacing and studied her toes. “I guess.”

He pulled her around to face him and lifted her chin on his finger. “Annabel, most people accept you at face value. If you’re aloof and snooty, that’s how you’ll be treated. Today, you looked and acted like a normal person, not like someone above having a good time. You made mistakes, but you didn’t poker up or demand to be taken home or call the police, any of the things the regular Annabel would have done.”

She closed her eyes, embarrassed to admit, “I thought about doing all those things.”

“But you didn’t, and the people here liked your attitude. You heard them ask you to come again.”

“I thought they were just being nice.”

“Don’t count on it. There’ve been lots of guests who started a ride and called for someone to come get them at the first stop. You gutted it out, and everyone respects that.”

“Do they?”
Do you
?

“Sure, even me.”

“Thank you.” His comment raised her spirits, as if she’d earned a gold medal. Thinking back over the day, she let herself feel a little bit proud of how far she’d stepped out of her usual parameters. There was one thing she still wondered about though. “I still haven’t figured out how the silver Cadillac fits into the day’s events.”

“Not in any way you need to know about.” Max’s voice hardened and cut through the space between them. “Forget you ever saw that, okay?”

Not likely
. The license number burned a hole in her pocket. Watching him closely, she detected no humor in the grim set of his mouth. Well, okay, then. She could take a hint. Best to change the subject. “At least, I didn’t suspect
everybody
I met of dealing drugs.”

His eyes crinkled up at the corners again. “Who did you exclude?”

“A couple of people I talked to while you skulked off to your secret meeting. I met a nice trauma nurse named Janice Winston. And Larry Munson. His daughter goes to school with Carly.”

“Like I said, Good Riders are just regular people with a hobby.”

“That gorgeous fireman seemed above reproach.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “Because he was gorgeous?”

“No, because he was nice. Is he single?”

“He’s new to the club. I don’t know much about him, but I’ll find out for you, if you’re interested.” He spit the words out.

“No, just curious.” She smiled a little, tickled by his annoyance. “I liked Dick, Tim, and Gabe, too.”

Max snorted. “Just how over-protected were you growing up?”

“I didn’t get out much, but they’re your friends, and I thought they seemed nice.”

“Dick’s great. A handy guy to know, and he’s been married to the same woman forever. Gabe’s a champ. He works in marketing at P&G and he’s a computer genius. Everybody likes him, and he just got engaged to a real looker. But watch out for Tim. He’s a shark. Financial and otherwise.”

With the sun dipping below the horizon, the temperature cooled noticeably. Annabel wished for the jacket she’d left on the bike. She crossed her arms and hugged them against herself to ward off the chill. “I thought he was your friend.”

“He is. Pretty good one, too.” He draped an arm around her and pulled her close, enveloping her in his warmth. “But that doesn’t mean I’d want one of my sisters to go out with him.”

Craning her neck a couple of inches back, she peered all the way up at him. “How many sisters do you have?”

“Two.”

Why did that surprise her? It wasn’t like she knew everything there was to know about him. Actually, she didn’t know much, but he seemed so independent. She couldn’t quite picture him with a regular group of relatives—parents, siblings, cousins. “Where do they live?”

“Nashville.”

“Where you’re from?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, that explains the mysterious drawl you take on and off like a pair of sunglasses.”

“All the big news markets expect their reporters to sound like everyone else.” He grimaced. “When I’m not on-camera, some of the Southern-ese tends to creep back in.”

“Mostly when you’re being a tease.”

“Do I tease you?” The finger he trailed along her cheek did just that.

“All the time.” She leaned in the other direction, away from the inclination to wrap herself around him. “But I’m on to that trick.”

Accepting her withdrawal, he held up his hands and shoved them into his pockets. Unfortunately, the move took all of his glorious warmth away, too. “Dang, soon you’ll be on to all my little secrets.”

“Do you have many?”

His shrug was all shoulders. “No more than most.”

But he did and excelled at hiding them behind a mask of nonchalance and a killer smile more cleverly than she hid hers behind old-maid clothes or in the editing room. “Tell me about your family. Do you have parents?”

Bleak shadows flickered behind his eyes. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“No.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Well, yeah, okay. My mother split when I was four. Dad gave up a promising music career to sell insurance during the week and pump gas on the weekend to keep us fed.”

“Where are they now?”

“I hear Ma’s running a health club in Florida with her third or fourth husband. Dad’s retired, still in Nashville, bouncing grandkids on his knee and picking up the occasional gig on the weekend.”

“Sounds nice.” Annabel’s older sister hadn’t been back to Cincinnati in years, and they’d never been close. If she didn’t have Carly, she’d have no one but a prickly aunt from her father’s side and some scattered cousins on her mother’s.

He frowned. “On what planet?”

“Mine, I guess. Messy, maybe, but real. Life at my house was very serene.” At least, on the surface. “Sterile. Isolated.”