Vegas Knights (3 page)

He stood with some difficulty, Kelly noted with satisfaction, his massive erection getting in the way, but a quick adjustment and he was holding out his hand for her. She gazed up at him for a moment, the reflection from the motorcycle's headlamp throwing one side of his body into breathtaking relief.
Maybe real girls like me
can
have the occasional Hollywood chick flick moment
, Kelly thought as she reached for him.

~ * ~ * ~

After a quick tour of the first floor, which left Kelly suitably impressed, Rick led her to the kitchen. "I'm starving," he said as he opened a sleek stainless steel Sub-Zero fridge. The interior light blinked on to reveal it was fully stocked with fresh food. "What do you feel like?"
 

On a day that had been full of surprises, Kelly knew a fully stocked fridge in a house that had not been visited for years should have been the least surprising part of it, but the sight of all that food left Kelly speechless. But her stomach wasn't. It chose that moment to grumble loudly.
 

Rick grinned over his shoulder at her. "Omelette okay?"
 

All she could manage was a weak nod. As she stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen while Rick pulled ingredient after ingredient out of the fridge and placed them on a marble island in the middle of the room, it dawned on Kelly that she hadn't eaten since lunch — a soggy tuna sandwich with a bag of vending machine chips on the side consumed in the dreary lunch room at work. A room she would never see again.

Anxiety unexpectedly clenched her growling stomach into a knot. What was she doing here in this stranger's house? Without a thought, she'd tossed aside her entire life back home for the promise of two weeks of fun in Vegas. Her job sucked, true. But it paid her bills and then some. She would have only had to suffer through a few more months — a year tops — to save enough to take some time off to work on her career as an artist. She'd made connections back home, knew people in the art world. She'd eventually get her own high-profile show, and there would be little to no risk of her liver ending up on a stranger's plate next to some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

Not that she thought Rick would ever hurt her. He'd been nothing but attentive and kind. Actually, he was quite charming, and her thudding heart lurched a little at the memory of his comment about 'making love'. She pushed that right out of her mind, reminding herself this was just for two weeks, nothing more.
 

So was that worth what she would go back to? Having to pay a bundle to get her beater of a car out of impound, trying to scratch up enough money for rent on a rathole of an apartment, and nursing what she already knew would be a broken heart. She'd never been one for casual romances. Even a rare drunken hook-up had ended in a long-term — if ultimately unsuccessful — relationship. And she had no illusions that this was anything more than a fun fling to Rick.
 

Besides all that, she didn't belong here in this multi-million dollar home with this wealthy biker-slash-businessman, who was so hot he could melt the polar ice caps. He could have any woman he wanted, and she was certain the dates he normally had wrapped around his arm when he went out on the town were more photogenic than she could ever dream of being.

 
He was used to the best of everything, and here she was standing in a kitchen Emeril Lagasse would give his left nut for, dressed in secondhand clothes. She felt like she was in a bizarre Sesame Street episode:
Which of these things doesn't belong...

Reality was crashing down on her. Her breath came in rasps as her anxiety ratcheted up and a cold sweat broke out over her entire body. How would she get home from Vegas? How would she pay to get her car out of hock? How would she make her rent? How would she ever find a job that paid a fair wage? How...how...how?

Great, now my chest hurts
. An overwhelming urge to sit down rushed over her.
Or maybe I'll just lie down
, she thought as she crumpled to the floor.
 

She heard the knife Rick had been using to chop mushrooms clatter against the marble counter as rushed over to her, but his words came through a gauzy fog. Her head lolled back as he cradled her in his arms, and she could make out his shape, but his features were as fuzzy as his words. In the meantime, why couldn't she catch her breath? Each one came short and shallow, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out how to make her lungs expand any more.

She felt something cover her mouth and nose, and she brushed it away. She already felt like she was suffocating, thank you very much, she didn't want anything covering her face. But the thing came back, this time more forcefully.
Omigod, he's trying to kill me
, she thought as she flailed weakly on the floor, but Rick's strong arms held her so tightly she couldn't move. She was too tired; she couldn't fight him. Finally, Kelly accepted her fate and lay back to let the darkness take her. At least she wouldn't have to worry anymore.

But the darkness didn't come. Instead, pinpricks of light dazzled her vision, sharpening it, bringing her surroundings into focus. Her body started tingling all over. It slowly dawned on her that Rick must have put a paper bag over her face because she was hyperventilating.

"Kelly, can you hear me?" His voice, full of concern, was forming words she could understand now. "Take nice, slow breaths, okayn? Kell? You in there? Just nod if you understand." Kelly tipped her head slightly. It was all she could manage at the moment.

Rick's voice was still strained, but she could hear the relief in it. "Good, that's good. I'm going to take the bag off now and I just need you to keep taking slow breaths, okay?"

Kelly focused on her breathing as her world came swimming into focus. She was lying half on the floor, half in Rick's arms, with his legs straddling her. He had his arms wrapped around her upper body and her head was resting in the crook of an arm. She could feel his warmth on her cheek, his heartbeat racing under his shirt. She'd never felt so safe, so protected in her life.
 

But as her head cleared, she was overcome by humiliation. Falling off his bike and onto him hadn't been enough; now she'd collapsed on his kitchen floor with a panic attack.
Bet he's thrilled he asked me come along
.

"I'm so sorry, Rick," she mumbled into his chest. "I don't know what happened. Must be hungry." This was a fib, but she didn't want him thinking she was a neurotic weirdo.

"Mmm hmmm." He was silent for a moment, one hand gently stroking the hair from her face. "Well, I guess there's nothing to do but get some food in you then."

With that, he helped her into a chair and strode across the room. A glass of water appeared in front of her, and she looked up into his concerned eyes. More than anything, she wanted to be back in his comforting, safe arms, but she was also desperate to leave this embarrassing incident behind them.

"I'm okay. Really." She didn't know that for sure, but felt he needed to hear it. He looked hard at her for a moment, then nodded and returned to chopping veggies.

Kelly tried to make small talk but his responses were short, as if his mind were occupied elsewhere.
Well, now I've done it
, she thought.
He's realized too late that picking up a strange woman at a gas station was about as brilliant a move as hopping on the back of a strange man's bike
. What a foolish, stupidly impulsive stunt. The only thing to do was to ask him to drop her off at the nearest bus station. Better to cut their losses now, before any more damage was done.

She was still going to have a tough time paying for the towed car she deserted at the gas station, but one day's fees wouldn't break her.
Maybe
I'll get lucky and it hasn't been towed yet
, she mused as she swirled the water around in the beautiful cut crystal glass. Worst case scenario, she was pretty sure she had enough room on her nearly maxed-out credit card to cover most of the fees. Plus going home now would give her a head start on her job hunt. Besides, it wasn't like there was a future in this little adventure. He'd made it clear it was just two weeks, and the repercussions were just too dear.

No longer in a panic, and with a new, albeit disappointed, resolve, she said, "Rick..." Then she made the mistake of looking up at him. His mop of thick, dark hair was adorably messy from his helmet — which made her wonder what hers looked like — and, at some point during the last few minutes, he'd stripped off his leathers, every ridge of muscle accentuated as it jumped and flexed beneath a black t-shirt and a pair of very thin, very snug, black moisture-wicking bottoms.
 

He was a big guy — he towered over her six-foot frame — but seeing him half-dressed and hunched over the island chopping up red bell peppers made her realize just how big he was. He had to be at least six-and-a-half feet tall, and built like a pro athlete. He didn't have the look of a body builder; his bulk looked like it was earned naturally from hard work.

Rick glanced at her from under his ridiculously long eyelashes, his sea-foam green eyes twinkling at her. "Hmm?" Those eyes made her stomach do flip-flops. Not the kind she had during her panic attack, but good ones, that warmed her from the inside out...and down. Just watching him deftly move around the kitchen made her tingle all over, and one place in particular.
 

His face broke into a dazzling grin that stole her breath. His teeth were not quite perfectly straight, which made his smile all the more appealing, in Kelly's opinion. She wanted to feel them nibbling on her earlobe, or neck, or...well, everywhere. And, lord, those lips. Those full-but-not-thick lips. Now
those
were perfect. She wouldn't even have to feel them on her if she could just look at them all night long. Of course, being kissed by them wasn't so bad either.

"Reminds me of the first time I laid eyes on you," those perfect lips said. It took Kelly a moment to comprehend his words, but then she snapped to, realizing that she was leaning forward in her chair, her jaw slack as she gazed at his beauty. Just as she did when he'd caught her staring at him at the gas station, Kelly glanced away, embarrassed at being caught. She casually swiped at her chin to make sure she hadn't been drooling.

"What were you going to say, beautiful?"

More than security, more safety, more than anything, Kelly wanted to spend one night with this man. If she could have just one full night, she could go home and the memories would keep her warm for a very long time. All the other garbage she'd have to deal with back home would be worth it. She would tell him to drop her at the bus station in the morning, tonight would be theirs.

She met his gaze and smiled. "No peppers for me."

"Maw shwag gor shamgy ghad mish phrapes," Kelly said through a mouthful of omelette.
 

Rick laughed, his eyes twinkling with good humor. "That hungry, huh?"
 

She swallowed and tried again. "Sorry. Where did all this food come from, anyway?”

“There’s a local who keeps an eye on the place. I called him yesterday to lay up some food.”

“Thank God,” she said. “How long has your family had this place?"

He looked down at his plate and stabbed at a stray mushroom. "My dad had it built when my mom was pregnant with me."

"Wow, he must love her a lot."
 

He nodded his agreement, head still down, but didn't elaborate.

Sensing family talk was off-limits, Kelly tried a different tack. "That access road we took to get in here seemed to continue on past the house. Is there more to the property?"

"Yup, quite a bit more. Probably couldn't see it as we drove in, but the house is on a lake. There's a dock, a boathouse, a ski boat. We even have a Herreshoff 12 1/2."

"A what?"

Rick chuckled. "Sorry. It's a sailboat. One of the most beautiful little boats ever built in the U.S. Anywhere, if you ask me."

"And it's called a Herse Off? Weird name for a boat."

This time Rick chucked. The sexy rumble sent shockwaves of emotion — she didn't want to think
which
emotion, exactly — through Kelly.
 

"It's pronounced 'her-shoff'. He was a famous yacht designer back in the day. The 12 1/2 is just about the prettiest boat you'll ever lay your eyes on, and does she sail? Phwew! I grew up in that thing."

Rick's expression grew faraway and dreamy as he shifted his gaze beyond her to the window, reliving his youth. "My mom hated that Dad took me out in it whenever we were here. She thought I was going to drown or something. She never could accept that the boat is essentially unsinkable.

"Anyway, one day Dad decided I didn't need training wheels anymore — meaning him," Rick flicked a glance over at her, then resumed looking out the window and into his past. "I'll never forget. Must've been about six. Just before he cast off my docklines and shoved me out into the lake, he told me, 'Ricky, you've learned everything about sailing you need to know. Now you'll spend the rest of your life trying to get it right.'"

Rick's face transformed. He'd gone from a kid talking about his favorite toy to a man who'd weathered more in life than anyone should. Kelly was puzzled by the change.

His gaze shifted back to her, sharpening to a laser point. "Sort of applies to pretty much everything in life, don't you think?"

Kelly didn't know how to respond. She certainly didn't want their one and only night together to turn maudlin, but she loved that he was opening himself up to her. She settled for, "I suppose."

"Well, think about," he said, leaning forward and stabbing the table top with his index finger. "We learn about love from our parents, both the kind of love they give us and the kind they give each other. Then we spend years, decades, trying to either emulate what they had or fix what was broken, all the while suffering through the same lessons over and over again but never getting it right.

"Same could be said for business or friendship or riding a bike or, hell, knitting." He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "I wonder if it's possible to ever do it."