“I got my motorcycle at half price by trading the owner for flying lessons. Consider it sweat equity. My airplane was a similar too-good-to-be-true bargain. The owner was having financial difficulties and needed to unload her quickly. He asked around at the airport to see if anyone might be interested in buying it. My father overheard him and told me. I took out a business loan because I make most of my living with that Cirrus. It’s not a toy. It’s my office.”
A slow smile started in his eyes and spread to his mouth. The combo of gleaming dark eyes and white teeth stole her breath. She leaned back in her chair, putting as much distance between them as possible without actually leaving the table. The odd lightness in her tummy had better be hunger. She couldn’t afford for it to be anything else.
“You’re a mass of contradictions, Lauren Lynch. I apologize for jumping to conclusions.”
In that moment she actually liked him.
He’s the enemy, your half brother’s spy and wealthy. Three strikes.
The waiter set their meals on the table and departed, but the interruption was enough to allow suspicion to overtake Lauren’s brain. Why was Gage suddenly being so warm and approachable if not to set her up and take her down? He and her brother were in cahoots.
“It won’t work, Gage.”
“What’s that?” he asked, looking up from his thick salmon steak.
“Charming me.”
One dark eyebrow hiked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m on to the scheme you and Trent have cooked up. I’ve been burned by one of you rich guys before, and I learned my lesson. I don’t care how attractive you are, I won’t—”
“You find me attractive?” His eyes crinkled deliciously and a miniature stunt plane did a loop-de-loop in her midsection.
She frowned at him and ignored his question. “I will not violate HAMC policies by getting personally involved with you. So stop smiling and flirting.”
“I’m not flirting.”
“Oh, please. Don’t bat your lashes at me. I’m not buying that innocent act. And what do you call renting motorcycles and spending the day playing tourist together if you’re not trying to get me to let down my guard?”
His expression turned serious. “If I hadn’t been late arriving at the airport, we’d have taken off before the fog descended, and you’d be home by now. My overtime cost you your day off. The motorcycle ride is to replace the one I took from you.”
Speechless and more than a little suspicious, she stared into his dark eyes, searching for the truth. That sounded fair-minded and almost nice. She didn’t want him to be nice. She wanted him to be a conceited prick. Like Trent.
But she wasn’t dumb enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. She’d always wanted to see the Dutch Amish countryside, and her father had always said, “Take a little of each place you visit home with you.” She’d just have to be careful and not fall for Gage’s handsome face, his devastating grin or let his sneaky charm worm information out of her that she wasn’t willing to share. Of course, that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Not after the lesson Whit had taught her.
“Okay, Faulkner, you’re on. But I’m in charge. Road rules state the most experienced rider leads. That’s me. If you can’t handle following, speak up now.”
One corner of his mouth curled upward. “I can handle anything you can dish out and then some, Lynch. Bring it on.”
Lauren’s bike engine wasn’t the only thing revving as Gage strode across the parking lot toward her.
A muscle-hugging black leather jacket accentuated his broad shoulders and lean torso. Matching chaps framed the denim covering the male package behind the fly of his jeans like a Look Here sign. He paused beside his motorcycle to don his black helmet and pull on his gloves, then he mounted the machine.
She visually traced the line of his straight back, his long legs and the booted feet he’d planted squarely on the asphalt. She told herself she was assessing his form and therefore his skill level, but knew she lied.
He looked good straddling a Harley. Good and hot.
And that was baaaad. For her peace of mind, anyway.
Luckily, she’d ridden her motorcycle to work yesterday, and had stowed her riding gear on the plane. Not so Gage. He wore “tags barely off” new everything from the skivvies out—assuming he wore underwear. The biker attire suited him as well as his tailored suit had, maybe better. And thank God he had the intelligence to wear a helmet even though Pennsylvania law didn’t require one.
With concentrated effort she forced her attention away from the man beside her to the GPS on the rental rumbling between her legs. After double-checking the route the salesperson had suggested, she heeled up her kickstand.
Gage’s gaze scraped her from head to toe. Appreciation replaced the anticipation sparkling in his eyes. Her breath caught and suddenly her neck warmer felt tighter and itchier than a too-small turtleneck sweater. She tugged the stretchy fleece away from her skin and inhaled a lungful of cool air.
He zipped his jacket and flipped down his visor then started his bike and twisted the throttle, making the engine roar. His thigh muscles bunched as he balanced the heavy weight of the bike, making her think of other activities that caused those same muscles to flex. Not something she needed to think about if she wanted to be steady on her wheels.
She cleared her throat. “Ready?”
“Ready.” His voice was strong and sure.
Oh, yeah, he’d ridden before and his confidence in his ability to control the powerful motorcycle came through loud and clear.
Damn. Confidence looked good on him. Good and sexy.
Her palms moistened in her gloves and heat filled her jacket and helmet despite the nip in the autumn air. A chilly ride was exactly what she needed to clear her head. A little hypothermia would fix what ailed her. “Follow my lead and watch for my hand signals.”
“Just ride, Lauren. I’ve got your back.”
She lowered her visor, put the bike in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. She’d bet her Harley Gage would rather lead than follow, but she’d dealt with hardheaded students before. She knew when to dig in and when to be flexible. Allowing shenanigans could get someone hurt or killed. And one death in the family was all Falcon Air could handle.
Four
Gage’s pulse pounded in his ears, and adrenaline pulsed through his veins, energizing his muscles and sharpening his senses. Wind pummeled his leather jacket and whistled through the vents on his full-face helmet.Ahead of him, Lauren leaned into a curve, her body moving as one with the machine beneath her. He did the same, savoring the power and responsiveness of the well-balanced Harley. It had taken almost an hour for the feel for riding to return, and for him to get comfortable on the bike. As if Lauren had anticipated that, she’d taken it easy on him for the first leg of their trip. Now she pushed him, going a little faster and taking more challenging routes. She leaned farther into each curve.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed cutting through the air like a missile. He caught himself grinning inside his helmet and surprise sobered him.
In college he’d ridden a motorcycle due to necessity, not for pleasure, and his inability to afford a car had been an embarrassment and an obstacle to overcome. When he’d sold that old clunker he’d sworn he’d never have another motorcycle. Today’s outing made him rethink that decision.
He focused on the curve of Lauren’s leather-clad butt. Who was this woman in front of him? Her pleasure in riding the winding roads through the rolling farmlands and roaring through the covered bridges and past silos, horse-drawn buggies, frolicking goats and stacks of hay bales couldn’t be more obvious or more contagious. The simple things she pointed out contradicted Trent’s certainty that Lauren was a mercenary bitch out to tap the Hightower keg and drain it dry.
In fact, everything Gage had learned about her to this point went against Trent’s theory, but Trent had always been a shrewd judge of character. He’d been the only one to warn Gage that Angela was lying about agreeing to forgo children and all she wanted was a meal ticket.
Too bad Gage hadn’t been smart enough to listen to his friend and dump Angela instead of marrying her. He’d been blinded by lust and love and bought Angela’s pretty little lie that he was all she’d ever need. A year later when he’d stood firm on the no-children issue she’d pleaded and pouted then threatened and finally left him, taking a chunk of his net worth with her in the divorce settlement. If he’d put the no-kids clause in writing, she wouldn’t have been able to use it against him. He shook off the negative memory of his ex-wife.
Could Trent be wrong about Lauren? Doubtful. If anything, Gage wasn’t seeing clearly due to his attraction to Lauren.
Lauren signaled a left turn and pulled into a rural diner parking lot. Gage geared down and followed her, stopping beside her and killing his engine. The absolute silence of the countryside soaked into him.
She flipped up her visor. “Let’s eat before we head back.”
“Sounds good.” Dismounting, he peeled off his gloves and reached up to remove his helmet. Something felt different. He rolled his shoulders trying to pinpoint the change and discovered the persistent knots that had cramped his neck and upper back for the past year had vanished.
He unzipped his jacket. Cold air bit his hands and cheeks. But it felt good. He felt good, and eager for the next leg of the journey. His disappointment over yesterday’s wasted hours had vanished.
How long had it been since he’d taken a day off? He couldn’t remember. He used to vacation with Trent a couple of times a year, but lately both of them had been too busy to even make their monthly dinners.
After removing her helmet, Lauren turned in a slow circle, scanning the brown patchwork fields surrounding them and finger-combing the tangles from her hair. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
She was beautiful. The defensive edge she usually wore had vanished. Her cheeks were flushed and her teal eyes sparkled with joy, vitality and excitement—all of the things that had been lacking from his life lately. If he could have absorbed her energy into his being at that moment, he would have. The temptation to try pulled at him, moving him forward until the toes of their boots touched.
He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek. Her widened gaze bounced to his. Awareness edged out exuberance, expanding her pupils. She shivered.
Her scent, a combination of her leather riding apparel, the outdoors and a trace of flowers invaded his nostrils and sank heavily to his groin.
Gage’s eyes focused on her moist, pink mouth. He told himself to back away. Given Trent’s suspicions, acting on this chemistry was a bad idea. Instead, he leaned forward. Lauren’s head tilted back. Her lips parted and her gold-tipped lashes descended. A puff of her warm breath teased his chin, and his heart hammered against his ribs.
Contact with her lips—soft, damp lips—zapped him like static electricity, but the spark was far from superficial. He felt it deep in his gut. Hell, the current charged through all his extremities. Eager for more of her taste, he opened his mouth and stroked her bottom lip with his tongue. She tasted of cherry Chap Stick lip balm and…Lauren.