Fast Ride

by Nancy Warren

  When Nell brought out a picnic basket to where he was working, he felt like kissing her.

  So he did.

  “I am so happy not to have to eat lunch with that old woman glaring at me.”

  “She can’t help it. She really has it in for that motorcycle gang.”

  She led him to the shade of a big old cherry tree and then laid out the blanket she’d brought, sat down and unpacked the contents. A plate of sandwiches, a jug of lemonade, some kind of cake and a couple of apples.

  “I didn’t think you’d want to go to the house to wash up so I brought you a wet-wipe.” She passed him the square packet he’d already spied and hoped was a condom.

  He slit the packaging and removed a damp white square, shaking his head. He really doubted they stocked wet-wipes down at the gang’s clubhouse. “How did you and I ever end up together?”

  She laughed, but didn’t elaborate.

  He cleaned off, tossed the used wipe in an empty corner of the picnic basket and sprawled beside Nell and closed his eyes. “Tired?”

  “No. I was hoping if I didn’t look at you I wouldn’t want to take you right here, right now.”

  “Is it working?” She asked in a voice that trembled slightly with sexual awareness.

  He opened his eyes half way. “Nope.”

  * * *

  Nell eyed him, so long and lean, relaxed as though he hadn’t a care in the world, and warmth rushed through her as she remembered how he’d touched her last night. The things he’d made her feel.

  He ate without hurry, but with precision as though it were a job to be done quickly and efficiently.

  His gaze was directed to the new section of fence he’d repaired but when he turned to her, the heat in his eyes told her he hadn’t been thinking about fencing.

  Even before he spoke her heart started to pound.

  “You know what I hate most?” he said.

  “No, what?”

  “I hate that I don’t know how to please you.”

  Was the man blind and deaf that he hadn’t noticed her response last night? “You do please me,” she assured him. Knowing she owed him something for the deception she was pulling, she dragged up her courage and admitted, “More than anyone ever has.”

  He shook his head impatiently. “I don’t mean last night. I mean all the stuff I’ve forgotten. The little things you learn about a person. I don’t know your fantasies, or the private games we like to play.”

  She felt hot and stifled as though he’d literally backed her into a corner.

  She dropped her gaze and fiddled with the edge of the red plaid blanket. How could she tell him that he was her fantasy? A stranger on a motorcycle with no past, no burning corporate ladder-climbing ambitions, a man with magic hands and a knowing mouth.

  A man who put her pleasure ahead of his own.

  “I—”

  She felt his hand cup her cheek, slide through her hair. “I want to know. I want to remember,” he said in a husky whisper.

  She almost laughed. When he remembered, she was going to be up one very murky creek without a paddle. When his memory came back he’d know she’d been lying, using him for sex.

  She ought to be appalled at herself, and yet her deception didn’t seem wrong. No one was getting hurt and if Wes was anything like every other man she’d ever known, he’d be only too happy to say “thanks for the hot sex” and be on his way.

  In the meantime, she was being offered her secret desires on a silver platter. She wasn’t strong enough to turn them down. No man had ever wanted to know her fantasies or shown any desire to make them reality, and here was Wes, who didn’t even know her, staring into her eyes as if he really wanted to know.

  “We love to find new places,” she whispered, mortified to hear herself saying the words aloud. She’d never done anything so bold, but always secretly wanted to. Wes was a born rule breaker. He wouldn’t care about his reputation if he were caught making love under the stars, or up a tree, or any other foolish place the urge took him.

  “New places, huh?” He grinned. “I’m thinking of one right now.”

  The hand that had been idly caressing her hair now moved, and he trailed a lazy finger down her neck to the collar of her white T-shirt.

  “You are?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m thinking of a place out under a big cherry tree, with a blanket spread out and—”

  “And Gertie knocking herself out peering at us through the kitchen window,” she finished.

  He laughed. “You worry about her too much.”

  “I love her,” she told him. “I can’t hurt her.”

  Instead of rolling his eyes or calling her a prude, he nodded. “She loves you, too. That’s why she doesn’t like me. She doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”

  Her eyes bugged out of her head. “Gertie told you that?”

  He shrugged. “She may have, before I lost my memory. But she tells me every time she catches sight of me.”

  Wes was more perceptive than she’d given him credit for. “Do you mind?”

  “No. She’s right.”

  A bee buzzed lazily by and she felt drowsy in the warm summer afternoon. She hadn’t had much sleep, after all.

  As she’d suspected—as she’d hoped—Wes hadn’t seemed a bit put off by her spoken desire. She decided to push the subject, since she had no idea how long he’d be without his memory—how long he’d be here at all.

  “So, I was wondering. About making love in different places. Could we—”

  Suddenly his eyes widened and he grabbed her arm. “Did we make love in an old barn behind a farmhouse?”

  Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she tried to formulate a response that was truthful but not. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  He shook his head impatiently, as though he could rattle his memory back into place. “I keep seeing this place in my dreams. It feels like it’s important. I was just wondering if my sex memory was returning first.”

  She punched him playfully in his impressive bicep. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. You seem to have a pretty strong sex drive.”

  “Oh, babe. You have no idea how much I want to drive it into you right now.”

  Heat shot through her at his crude words. “Me too.”

  He gazed at her, a steamy, taunting look. “What are you doing after lunch?”

  She squirmed on the blanket, so hot for him she couldn’t hold still. But unfortunately, fantasy fulfillment would have to wait. “I promised I’d take Gertie into town to get groceries. And you have a fence to mend.”

  He groaned good-naturedly, grabbed an apple and got to his feet. “Let’s make a date for later. We can take my bike and—”

  She shook her head and saw the moment it hit him his bike wasn’t going anywhere for a while. “We’ll have to take Gertie’s truck.”

  “Right.”

  “And I’ll drive.”

  As she’d suspected, he did a male-puffing-out-his-chest thing and spluttered that he knew how to drive a truck.

  “You’ve had a head injury. Driving is off your list until you’ve seen Doc Greenfield again.”

  “Do I have an appointment?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  She’d wondered if he’d be difficult about seeing the doctor, but he merely nodded. He must be as anxious to get his memory back as she was for him not to. At least for a little while.

  * * *

  Wes worked late into the afternoon, slaking his thirst with the pitcher of lemonade Nell had left him, wishing he felt as peaceful as the quiet afternoon warranted.

  His bumps and bruises weren’t more than an irritation, but there was a nagging sense of disquiet.

  Again and again he revisited the image of that barn. If it hadn’t been a place he and Nell had gone to play their adult games, then it must be important for some other reason.

  But what?

  He was feeling hot, frustrated, and tired when he felt an odd prickling sensation at
the back of his neck. Someone was watching him.

  He maneuvered his body around while he pounded in a nail, but he couldn’t see a soul. Pretending he had to scratch his leg, he reached for the knife in his boot.

  It wasn’t there.

  He kept a knife in his boot? He didn’t like the implications of that. He didn’t like even more that he no longer had it. His only weapon was the hammer he held in a vise grip.

  He went back to pounding nails, but the sensation of being watched persisted.

  His first instinct was to get back to the house and protect the women. But Nell had said she was taking Gertie shopping, so with luck he was alone here and just as inclined to meet whatever danger lurked at the back fence.

  Even though he was expecting something, it was still a shock to see a short, weedy, furtive-looking man appear.

  Wes tightened his grip on the hammer and narrowed his eyes.

  The man approached stealthily, his gaze scanning the area as he came up to Wes. “Jeez you scared me. I thought you’d bought the farm.”

  Wes stared at him.

  The nervous fellow fished out a dented pack of Marlboroughs and lit up. “Did you get it?”

  “Get what?”

  Wes had no idea who this man was, but he sure didn’t look like he belonged to a bike gang. He looked like a down and out car salesman with too many kids. His watery blue eyes narrowed against the smoke from his cigarette. “This amnesia thing is bullshit, right?”

  Wes thought about lying, but what was the point? “I wish it were.”

  The man shook his head as though bad news was never a surprise. “Tell me you remember where you put the stuff.”

  “I don’t even know what stuff you’re talking about. I also don’t know who the hell you are or why you were spying on me before sneaking up.”

  The man tipped his head back and stared at the sky. His lips moved as though he were praying, which Wes doubted was his actual occupation.

  “You’re Wes Doman.” The man cast a glance all around before leaning in and murmuring, “DEA.”

  “Drug enforcement? You mean I’m not in some two-bit bike gang?” No wonder he hadn’t felt as though he were in the right body. It was a profound relief to discover he was one of the good guys.

  “You’re undercover. The gang sent you to organize a coke buy, which we were going to bust. We arrest this bunch and close down this cell; then we go back home to our lives.” He waved his cigarette hopefully in the air. “Any of this sounding familiar?”

  Wes shook his head.

  “Great. Just great.”

  Wes slumped against the fence and tried to think. If he was undercover, a lot of things made sense. His hair for instance. He must be wearing this mop to blend in with the bikers. It was a relief to discover he didn’t belong with guys like Louie.

  And Nell. She must not know or she would have said something.

  Of course, he might be an amnesiac, but he wasn’t stupid. “Do you have some ID?”

  With another furtive glance, and a smoky huff of irritation, his companion pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. Sure enough, there was a DEA badge. Wes waited for a flicker of recognition, but nothing came. The guy’s name was Harvey Brown. Didn’t mean a thing to him.

  In all this mess, the only person who’d seemed even vaguely familiar was Nell.

  He blew out a breath. “I take it Nell doesn’t know who I really am?”

  The nervous man stared at him. “Nell?”

  “My girlfriend. Nell Tennant.”

  Harvey dragged too hard on his cigarette and exploded in a hacking cough. “Buddy, you don’t have a girlfriend.”

  Chapter Five

  Wes quelled the urge to punch the lying sonofabitch in the face, but he couldn’t stop his fist tightening on the hammer. “What are you saying?”

  “You’d never stopped here in your life before the accident. I had a hell of a time tracking you down. Had to hang around bars and listen to farmers’ gossip. Ever since you arrived here you’ve been hanging around with the bikers. Why would you start seeing a girl who’d make them suspicious? Doesn’t make sense.”

  He was right. It didn’t make sense. Any more than it made sense for Nell to pretend to be his girlfriend if she wasn’t. It was a puzzle that needed solving. And fast.

  “This coke. How much of it was there?”

  “Maybe around ten kilos. They wouldn’t have trusted you with more.”

  “And you have no idea where it is?”

  “Market day was supposed to be Thursday. My guess is you stashed the dope somewhere and then planned to set up the sting. Only you had the accident before you had a chance.”

  “So it could be hidden anywhere.”

  “Yep.”

  “There’s a guy named Louie who’s pointing a gun at my back.”

  “Yep.”

  He immediately thought about his dream. That must be what it was telling him—the hiding place of the drugs. Now all he had to do was find one particular derelict barn in an area full of them.

  He also had to figure out why Nell had lied to him.

  He also needed to get his bike fixed. He needed his own transport.

  * * *

  Nell stacked cans of tuna fish in Gertie’s pantry, trying to keep her mind on unloading the groceries and not on the delectable possibilities she’d unleashed by telling Wes of her secret fantasy.

  Making love outside wasn’t all that wild, but it was her fantasy and she wanted to try it out just once. Sex in the moonlight; out in the middle of a field; heck, even in the back of a parked car at a drive-in—if there were one in Harleyville, which there wasn’t. She wouldn’t care. All she cared about was giving in to the urge to be wild and free with Wes, her own personal rebel without a cause, easy rider, and lone wolf all rolled into one sexually explosive package.

  Since he had amnesia, he couldn’t be expected to think up any good places for them to try out her whim. That would be her responsibility, and she was pretty sure she was up to the task. She’d had all her adult life to dream up exciting places to seduce a sexy stranger.

  Tonight’s moon would be even brighter than last night’s. She couldn’t think of a better time to start showing Wes exactly what she had in mind.

  “What are you grinning about?” Gertie asked.

  “I had an idea. If I drive Wes round some of the local scenery, it might help his memory return. Don’t you think?”

  Gertie slapped the lid shut on a jar she’d refilled with raisins. “You be careful around him. You know what those motorcycle fellows are like. All rough and rude with their loud music and nasty loud engines and their smoking all over town and spitting on the sidewalks. He’s not your kind, Missy.”

  And that was exactly the attraction. Nell stuck her chin out. “Maybe I’m sick of my kind. The bloodless corporate sharks who care about profit and loss and bottom lines more than they care about people.”

  “He’s probably a criminal.”

  “I don’t think so,” Nell said thoughtfully. “He worked all afternoon, even though we left him alone for several hours. Would a criminal be so diligent?”

  “Maybe, if he was locked out of the house,” Gertie said with a touch of defiance.

  Nell swung round, her mouth dropping. “You locked him out of the house?”

  “Course I did. It was a mistake ever letting him stay here. We should have dropped him off down at that biker clubhouse they have in town. Let the rest of the motorcycle boys look after him.”

  Nell swallowed her argument. Gertie knew perfectly well that it was her own illegal roadblock that had deposited Wes so colorfully in their lives. When his memory did return, he could very well press charges.

  He seemed a little pale when she went to fetch him for supper and for the first time he wouldn’t meet her gaze when she spoke to him. Her heart sank, realizing he’d probably overdone it and wouldn’t be up to their date. She was shocked at how disappointed she felt.

  “Do you want
to go straight to bed and have your supper on a tray?” she asked, lifting a hand and laying it across his forehead to check for fever.

  He gripped her wrist and pulled it away, his hazel eyes burning into hers as though if he tried hard enough he could see right through to her inner thoughts.

  “What is it?” she asked, feeling as though she were looking at a different person.

  For the space of a couple of heartbeats he stared at her; then he grinned, that cocky grin she’d come to love in such a short time. “I hope you’re not planning to chicken out on our plans for later, because I have a hankering to take you up against a barn, in a hayloft, maybe even on a boat, floating out under the stars.”

  A quiet hum escaped her throat as her body quivered to life at the images his words evoked. “I can’t wait.”

  “I don’t want to get boring and repeat history, though,” he said, running his fingertips up her arms in a way that made her long to be already out under the stars with him. “Did we already do those things?”

  “What things?” she whispered, hardly able to think for the sensations running riot in her body.

  “Have I ever taken you up against a barn?” He stepped even closer, so his body was barely brushing the front of hers.

  Only by squeezing her jaws together did she stop herself from whimpering with longing. “No. No barns.”

  “How about the hayloft?” He ran his lips up her throat and she wondered if he could feel the whimpers she was trying to suppress.

  “No,” she panted.

  His lips traveled slowly up until he took her earlobe between his teeth and bit lightly. “How about on the water floating under the stars?” His breath against her ear sent flurries of excitement racing through her.

  She shook her head.

  He raised his head and his eyes were dancing with devil lights. “Well, where the hell have we been doing it?”

  Maybe she should just tell him now. She’d made it up. She could explain about Doc’s advice, apologize for leading him to believe things that weren’t true. But then she’d never experience sex up against a barn, in a hayloft, or out on a floating boat, at least not with this man. And she wanted to do all those things and more with him.