“And you’ll need shoes,” he said, his gaze gliding to her feet. “You know those socks don’t match.”
“It’s a thing,” she said, wriggling her toes. “And they do match, just not each other.”
“If you say so.”
Ramsey pulled on the neckline of her tee to give him a glimpse of her lemon-yellow bra strap. “See?”
His grin deepened. “I do. I certainly do.”
She straightened her tee, smoothed it over her midriff. “Shoes,” she said, pulling her eyes away from his. Lord, but the man had a stare like a tractor beam. It was good thing she had her shields up before she opened the door or she might have actually flown into his arms.
“Give me a minute.” She stepped inside, closed the door, and slipped into a pair of brown leather ankle boots that were not so dissimilar from the black boots that Sullivan was wearing. It was only after she had them on that she began to question what sort of bike riding they were going to be doing. A second peek out the window, this time to look in her driveway, gave Ramsey her answer.
Sullivan had ridden to her house on his Harley. One helmet was balanced on the seat, but a second helmet was strapped to the back.
Ramsey let the curtain fall into place but didn’t move until her heart stopped racing. He really expected her to climb on that machine and hold on. Bruce Springsteen began playing in her head and there was an almost simultaneous thrum between her thighs.
She really needed an intervention. It was a sad fact that there was no one to call who wouldn’t tell her to let Sullivan Day slide into home. Ramsey ran her clammy palms over the front of her jeans and then went to get her jean jacket. She was still shrugging into it when she stepped onto the front porch.
“You should have told me you meant this kind of bike riding.” She jerked her chin in the direction of the Harley as she pulled the door shut behind her. The steady exit beep of the alarm system was silenced.
“I told you I’d think of something,” he said. “This is what I thought of. Would you rather do something else? You’ll have to drive. The Harley is all I have in the way of transportation.”
“No. No, this is fine.”
Sullivan put out an arm to stop her as she moved to the edge of the porch. A small crease appeared between his eyebrows. “I’m not sure that it is. Fine, I mean.”
Ramsey looked at a point past his shoulder, making it impossible for him to catch her eye. “No, really, it’s okay. Let’s go.” She gave his extended arm a little push sideways, and although he turned it into a gallant gesture to usher her to precede him, she doubted he was convinced she was telling the truth. How could he be when she hadn’t done a very good job of convincing herself?
Once they reached the Harley, Ramsey accepted the helmet Sullivan held out to her. She did not give in to the urge to hug it to her chest, but it was a narrow thing. Instead, she let it dangle at her side for several long seconds while she drew in a steadying breath. Ramsey did not think her delay had been that obvious, but Sullivan did not miss a trick.
“Is this your first time on a bike?” he asked.
Predictably, her chin came up. It was a tactical error because now she was looking squarely into his eyes. His gaze had narrowed ever so slightly. She thought she saw more in the way of suspicion than concern. “I’m notonthe bike yet, am I?” His gray eyes turned flinty, and she caved. She bet he was a crack interrogator. Probably never resorted to waterboarding. “All right. No, I’ve never been on a bike. I’ve never stood this close to one. It’s huge, and it’s leaning. I don’t even know why it hasn’t toppled.”
“Kickstand.”
She pictured herself slinging the helmet at his head.
“Don’t do it,” he said calmly.
“Do what?” She watched him press his lips together at the same time he raised his eyebrows. The expression spoke for itself. He was daring her to tell him he was wrong. She couldn’t. Her fist relaxed its white-knuckled grip on the helmet strap and the tension in her arm began to dissolve.
Sullivan said, “Thank you. Now, will you tell me what’s really going on?”
“I’m afraid. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Only if it’s the truth.”
“Well, it is.” She hated that she sounded churlish, but if Sullivan noticed, he pretended not to.
“Good. What do you want to do about it? And just so you know, hitting me with that helmet is off the table.”
That he responded so easily, without any hint of confrontation, penetrated Ramsey’s defenses as nothing else could have. One corner of her mouth lifted. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it hinted that it could be. “I don’t like being afraid.”
“It never occurred to me that you did.”
Ramsey looked over the Harley. “Have you ever had an accident while you were riding?”
