A Risk Worth Taking (13 page)

“Always.” The stones reminded her of his eyes, light blue but with a fire emanating from deep within.

He tucked her into his body and relaxed. But for hours afterward, Abby marked the passage of time by watching the light outside Grant’s bedroom window faded from gold to pink to gray. He’d drifted to sleep and while he’d driven her body beyond the point of ecstasy, she had too many things on her mind to sleep. All the drama they’d been through, made their lovemaking feel like a sweet victory. But, her newly discovered feelings for him terrified her. How did people make love to one another and not give their hearts away? She concluded her friends who claimed to be able to do it were either lying or had never made love the way she and Grant did.

She rested her cheek against the hard plane of his chest and listened to his shallow, even breaths. All she wanted from the rest of this day was a few more minutes with him. Instead, she kissed the underside of his jaw. “Wake up,” she breathed. “I need you to drive me home.”

He wrapped his heavy arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “I have a better idea. How about I drive you to work in the morning?”

Oh God, that was so tempting.
She forced herself to sit up. “I can’t. I need fresh clothes.”

She scooted off the bed as he made a move for her. Abby slipped onto the bathroom to retrieve her clothes, with Grant hot on her heels. He leaned against the sink and watched as she collected her scattered clothes, arms folded across his broad chest and a leer on his lips. When she’d finished dressing he reached for his, sliding jeans over his bare ass in a slow, sensual way that made her second guess her decision to leave.

He tugged a set of keys from his pocket and took her hand. “Compromise.” His blue eyes sparked like the blue stones she wore on her wrist. “Take my car.”

She rolled her eyes. “Was that your plan all along? Fake me out with one outrageous car so later on I’d accept an only slightly less outrageous one.”

He pulled her in close and tilted her head back. “I wish I was that clever.”

Palming the keys, she growled, “It’s just until mine gets fixed.”

He shrugged, “Of course,” then reached around to squeeze her bottom. “But, I think after those cute buns of yours are all warm and toasty in the morning you’re going to rethink your stance.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’ll call you during my layovers this week.”

Abby clenched her eyes. Five days without seeing him shouldn’t seem like such a long time. Hiding her feelings behind sassy words she winked. “Sure, and when you get back we’ll need to spend more time in your tub.”

Grant cocked an eyebrow, a wolf-grin forming on his lips. “Hell, yeah,” he said before devouring her mouth.

She breathed in his intoxicating scent one more time before easing from his arms. “I better go because if you do that much longer, I’ll have to explain to my principal why I’m wearing jeans on a Monday.”

Chapter 14

The air traffic controller’s voice came in over Grant’s headset in a squawk. “Five-Nine-Four Romeo-Charlie, you’re clear to land on runway two-six.”

“Roger that, tower. Cleared to land Runway two-six, five-nine-four Romeo-Charlie,” he confirmed then pushed the jet’s throttle forward on its final approach into Peachtree-DeKalb Airport.

After delivering several cases of shrimp to a five-star restaurant in Wisconsin, he’d picked up another haul from Madison over to Butte, Montana. At the rate his company was growing it would clear ten million this year. The financial success came with a price. It had been a hard five days filled with long flights, bad food, and little rest. To say nothing of how badly he’d missed Abby. Phone calls and texts, as sexy as they’d been, were a poor substitute for the real thing.

He landed the twin-engine turbo prop right on the numbers, then taxied to the Davis Air Transport hangar. Twenty minutes later, as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, he was heading north on I-85. At that hour there wasn’t another soul on the road, so he leaned over the handlebars and opened the throttle of his bike. Most of the stuff he owned was just that, stuff. Not points of pride or possessions to impression. But God, he loved this machine. It was like riding a jet engine bareback. Finally, he slowed the machine below the hundred-mile-an-hour mark, eased off the highway, and into the parking lot of Northland Motorsports.

He powered his machine up to the front door just as a raw-boned fifty-something man exited through the front doors of the store. Frank Wilson, a customer of Davis Air Transport and owner of the store, stepped to a massive example of American craftsmanship and patted the brushed chrome fuel tank. “So what do you think?”

Grant looked over the touring bike. Any part that hadn’t been chromed-out had been painted a high-gloss black. It also had black leather saddlebags, a backrest, and a place for the passenger to put her feet. It wasn’t what he’d pick if it were just himself. He liked the sleek lines and crazy-ass speed of his baby. “I think it will get the job done.” Hell, if this worked out the way he hoped he might consider buying her. “Did the jacket and helmet I ordered come in?”

Frank thumbed over his should to the bike. “Yep, I just stowed them in the saddle bags right there. Sally also threw in some snacks for the road.”

Grant’s face broke into a broad grin. Sally and Frank were good people. When Grant had called them up with the idea to trade machines for the weekend, they’d at first been a little unsure. Sally didn’t like the idea of Frank getting on what she’d called “a Darwin Award machine.” Then Grant told her why he wanted the bike. “Tell Sally thanks for me.” He tossed the man the keys to his machine. “Don’t get into too much trouble on my ride. She’s pretty but unforgiving.”

Frank returned his grin. “Sounds like a woman I once knew.”

“I’ll bring this back on Monday,” he called, pulling on his helmet. Then he took off down the road to push a certain someone a bit further out of her comfort zone.

He pulled into Abby’s driveway and killed the engine. Briefly, he’d considered giving her a heads up, but that would’ve given her time to create a couple dozen excuses. Stealth was what he needed for this mission. He stepped up to her back door and gave it a firm pounding. This early on a Saturday morning she was probably still asleep. He gave her a minute then hit the door again.

Abby jerked the thing open like she was gunning for whoever was on the other side. She wore a pair of blue plaid sleep-pants and a white tank-top that clung perfectly to her breasts. In the glow of the overhead light she’d flipped on he could clearly see the darkened shadow of her nipples through the fabric. It took her a second, but then she smiled shyly, ducking her chin, and stepped back to let him in.

“When did you get back?” Her voice came out gravelly with sleep and sexy as hell.

His cock sprang to life, making him consider taking her back to bed. He closed in on her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her bed-tousled hair. “About an hour ago.”

This was what he’d been after when he’d pushed the limits of the jet, something far better than a good meal and a warm bed. His version of heaven had the prettiest pair of whiskey eyes and curls a man could get lost in. He kissed her on the temple, then reluctantly let her go, telling himself to stick to the plan.

She ran her fingers through her hair trying to tame the golden-blond curls. “Did you want some coffee?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

She turned to the counter and began going through the motions of filling the carafe and spooning the coffee. Even her rearview was beautiful. He slipped behind her and after kissing his way up her neck, he teased her earlobe with tiny nibbles. “I missed you.”

She tilted her head giving him better access and leaned back into his chest. “Me, too.”

Grant saw himself pushing his hands up through the bottom of her tank top to palm the tempting swells of her breast. He kissed the sweet spot behind her ear then forced himself to back off. Swatting her playfully on the behind, he barked, “Go get dressed. I’ve got a surprise.”

She folded her arms across her chest, looking stubborn and sexy since her arms had pushed her breast distractingly upwards. “Like what?” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to need a harness and a parachute for this surprise.”

“Would I do that?” he asked, attempting to sound innocent. Then he pointed in the direction of her bedroom. “Jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt will be fine.”

When she returned fifteen minutes later, he looked her over. She’d taken his wardrobe suggestion and also pulled her hair back into a low pony tail. “Do you have anything sturdier than those?” he asked, pointing to the lightweight sneakers.

She cocked her head at him, suspicion lacing her voice. “I have a pair of hiking boots.”

“Perfect.”

She returned, wearing the boots. Holding her arms out, she turned for him to see. “Will I do now?”

The light brown T-shirt brought out the caramel color in her hair and her low-slung jeans hung at just the right spot on her hips. He couldn’t resist and crossed the kitchen in a pair of strides to take her in his arms. Looking down at her he announced, “You’ll more than do.” Then after a quick kiss he tugged her arm. “Come, we have a full day ahead of us.”

Grant moved through the door first, strategically placing his body between her and the bike. Once she’d locked the door and stowed the keys in her purse, he stepped aside. Her eyes shot to the bike, growing wide as understanding set in. Then they darted to him. Her lips pressed together for a moment before she hitched the strap of her purse onto her shoulder and turned on her heels.

He caught her as she reached for the doorknob. “Come on honey, give it a try,” he pleaded. “It will be fun. Promise.”

She spun around and glared. “Can you also promise I won’t end up a splattered mess on the road?”

He snaked one hand around her waist and with the other he tilted her chin. Her normally warm, chocolate eyes were nearly black with fear. “No, I can’t. I can’t promise that you won’t T-boned by a semi on the way to work Monday, catch your death of cold, or get skin cancer either.” He kissed the end of her nose. “But I’ve made this as safe as possible.”

He held her until the tension melted from her body. Then he took her by the hand and drew her slowly to the bike, much as one would introduce a child to a Great Dane. Letting go of her, he unlatched one of the saddle bags, taking out a fitted leather jacket and holding it up for her to see.

“I bought this especially for you.” He opened the front of the coat and fingered the black mesh lining. “See this. There are metal plates underneath.” He patted the chrome helmet strapped to the back of the bike. “Plus the helmet.” Brushing his thumb across her cheek he asked, “Do you really think I’d ask you to do this if I thought it was truly dangerous?”

She gave him a hard stare before finally letting out her breath. “No.”

Her admission brought a smile to his lips. “We’ll take it up the street and if you still don’t like it, we won’t go.”

“Promise?”

He traced an X over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

She swatted his arm then grabbed the jacket. After shrugging it on and pulling up the zipper, she pointed a finger at him. “I’m keeping the jacket regardless. It’s too cute to give back.”

Grant unstrapped her helmet from its spot behind her backrest. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he told her, then pulled it over her head and fixed the chin-strap.

He did the same with his own helmet, watching with growing admiration as she mounted the bike without any further coaxing. He spoke into the helmets’ integrated communication system. “Can you hear me?”

She flashed a surprised smile. “Yes.”

He pointed back to the foot rest. “Your feet go here.” Abby placed her feet on the metal runner and he threw a leg over the bike. She clinched his biceps. “Can I hold on to you?”

He eased her hands down to the tops of his hips. “Of course, that’s the best part,” he assured her then started the engine. In an instant her arms became steal bands around his middle.

“How you doing back there?” he asked hoping she’d at least give them to the end of the street.

Her voice came out high and reedy. “Um, okay, I guess.”

Easing the throttle forward, he moved them smoothly up her street and on to Scott Boulevard. Her death grip hadn’t lessened, but she also wasn’t screaming at him to turn around either, so he took a chance and made a right turn on to Clairmont Avenue. When the sign for I-85 south came into view he asked, “What’ll it be?”

Dead air hung between them for a second before she answered, her voice quivering. “Keep going.”

As he accelerated the bike onto the on-ramp, she tightened her vice-like grip around his stomach and clinched him between her thighs. The embrace would have been erotic if it didn’t mean she was scared as hell. He took his hand off the handlebar long enough to pat her hand for reassurance.

Ten minutes into the ride, the concrete and steel by the side of the road gave way to grass and trees. He slowed the bike so Abby could catch glimpses of a few spring flowers that had started to appear and was rewarded when her death grip eased.

“Oh, look,” she breathed. “The daffodils are blooming.”

“There are even more the further south we go,” he said, bringing the bike’s speed down another notch when more of the yellow flowers came into view.

Having in mind some other sights she might enjoy, he was about to speed up when Abby leaned her body onto his and rested her cheek against his back. His pulse kicked into overdrive as if the two of them were barreling down the highway instead of ambling down the road. The trust her embrace implied ripped through his chest.

Then she slid her hands down his thighs. Every time he thought he’d figured this woman out, she did something that completely threw him for a loop. Hell, she was turning their ride into foreplay. He shifted on the seat trying to make an unobtrusive adjustment as his erection turned to stone.

Below the little town of Fairburn, Grant eased the bike off the interstate and onto a two-lane blacktop. Man, he loved the hairpin turns of north Georgia, but the middle of the state had its own share of curves and rolling hills. He resisted the urge to open of the throttle and lean into the next curve. Why mess with a good thing? Abby’s bone crushing grip had softened into a gentle embrace that kept him teetering on the edge of comfort and arousal. Grant saw the two of them doing this every weekend for the next twenty years or so.