Anna finally broke off, realizing belatedly that they’d stopped. Jake patted his current work in progress with appreciation, an amped-up crotch rocket that looked like a lot more muscle than it really was, but it was black and blinged, and its owner took care of it like it was his baby girl. Jake had been tuning it up for the past several days, and he was just about to deliver it back to its home upstate—all on the owner’s dime, of course. He unclipped the helmet that he’d brought on the off chance he’d have a rider to bring back to the brownstone tonight, then turned and handed it off to Anna.
“Um …,” she managed to say, even as she took it from him, handling the smooth round plastic casing awkwardly.
“It may be a bit big, but it should work,” Jake said, undoing the chin strap while Anna’s gaze roamed from the helmet to his face and back. “Then you just need to hop on the back and hold on. It’s all city streets, I promise, and I’ll cruise real slow. You won’t even get your hair tangled up.”
“But I can’t ride that!” she squeaked, holding the helmet in front of her like a shield. “My dress!”
“Oh.” That was something he hadn’t thought of. Jake looked at the silky pink dress with the floppy skirt that barely skimmed Anna’s thighs. Well, not really a problem, in his book, but there was no doubt about it: it’d fly up and around her hips the moment they had a good breeze going. Which even moving slow, would be pretty much immediately. The thought made his mouth go dry, but Jake laid his jacket on the bike. He didn’t need the heavy thing, not in the middle of summer on back streets.
“First, on with the helmet,” he said, and to his surprise, Anna complied, sliding the helmet over her mass of curls and trapping the chin strap in the process.
“Now, put this on,” he said, picking up the jacket and holding it out.
“How is that going to help?” she asked, even as she took the jacket and slid it over her shoulders. “My God, it’s heavy.” It hung past her hips, and she looked down, frowning. “Maybe …,” she allowed.
“Special jacket, made for the kind of riding I do. Eyes up here.” He teased out and fastened her chin strap, then eyed Anna’s nervous little shimmy from foot to foot. “Aw, hell, honey. You look like you’re gonna faint. You want me to call a cab?”
“No … no,” Anna said. She straightened a little, looking impossibly adorable in the too big helmet and jacket. “Just—don’t look back, okay? Or down. Or, you know, anywhere near me.”
“That’s my girl. Just be careful as you get on, keep your legs high and your feet up.” Jake turned around and slid onto the bike, his grin widening as he leaned it toward her, then felt the machine shift as Anna slid in behind him. His smile didn’t falter as her thighs slid tight against his jeans, already clamping hard as he stirred the motorcycle to life. With a soft bleat of distress, she snaked her arms around him and held on, her fingers barely meeting.
“Where do I put my feet?” she asked.
He glanced down. “Drop your toes about two inches—there,” he said, as the edge of her sandal found the peg. “I’m not a huge fan of riders on these bikes. The weight’s effed up for a passenger to really get comfortable, but we’re not going far, and I’m going to go slow. Still, there’s a jerk of the machine when we start, so you need to be ready for that, okay?”
“Okay,” Anna said, her voice muffled. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, her breasts flattened against his back. He would not think about what that was doing to his dick or he’d never get out of here.
“Okay,” he said, breathing out. “Here we go.” He brought the machine to life then eased out the clutch, grinning as Anna gasped, half in fear, half in excitement. He could absolutely get used to hearing that sound, too. He turned out of the space and rolled onto the street, careful to keep the bike at a low speed. He could feel her relax into the movement as she turned her head to peer around. Still, she never released her death grip on his waist, her fingers digging into his abs hard enough to bruise him. He didn’t mind that a bit, actually. In fact, it was all he could do not to imagine her fingers dipping lower and lower, to slide under his jeans and wrap around his—
“Jesus, focus,” he muttered. He was going to be crippled before they even got home.
“Did you say something?” Anna shouted over his shoulder, loosening her grip just a little as she lifted her head again. She was already becoming a little bolder, and he grinned, knowing he shouldn’t do what he was about to do. Then again, he never had been a very good guy.
“Just telling you to hold on, sweetheart,” he called back, goosing the accelerator just enough to kick the bike to a higher speed, and relishing Anna’s reaction as she squealed and clamped onto him tightly again. He leaned forward and felt her stretch too, and the roar in his blood matched the purr of the bike as they rolled through the city, heading for home. He was not going to have sex with Anna Richardson tonight, even if it killed him.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have a little fun.
Chapter 5
Anna carefully peeled away from Jake’s back as he slowed down to enter the alley behind their brownstones. He was going no more than five miles an hour now, so it wasn’t as if she was going to drop off the back of his bike and break every bone in her body. Besides, he handled the big, muscly bike as if it were a baby, easing into turns, keeping everything smooth and gentle. She figured all that was for her benefit, but she could also sense how much power there was between his legs—and between her legs, too, as it happened.
Her full-body flush kicked up again. God, it sucked being blonde.
Jake turned the bike into his brownstone’s back drive and rolled it to a stop. “Hang on, don’t move yet,” he said as she sat up behind him. “There’s a hot pipe that snakes alongside the bike on the left that you gotta watch out for. Don’t drop your leg or you might burn it. I’m going to lean the bike over—just hang on until I tell you.”
“Okay,” Anna said, savoring the extra moments she could “hang on” to Jake Flynn. His body was rock-solid muscle beneath his tight T-shirt, and she felt his obliques tighten up as he leaned the bike over to the left a bit, planting his long, strong legs and booted feet on the ground. She knew the word “obliques” from her workout classes, but she’d never actually felt one before. Certainly not one like this. “Can I get off now?” she asked.
“That’s certainly a lady’s prerogative,” Jake drawled, and Anna stiffened. Too late to take her words back. She swatted his back before she realized what she was doing, then clutched him again through his shirt. “But yes, you can dismount,” he said. “Left leg first, plant your foot away from the bike. There you go.”
Anna bit her lip as one high-heeled sandal connected with the smooth pavement of Jake’s driveway. He always kept the driveway swept clear, and for all the bikes that she’d seen rolling in and out of this place, there was never any oil spilled on the concrete. She wondered what that meant about him, if anything. Was he a neat freak? Did he have OCD? Or did he just not like seeing a mess of nasty oil all over the driveway?
“Okay, do you feel comfortable swinging your leg over the bike, like you’re getting off a horse?”
“I’ve never ridden a horse.”
“Fair enough.” Jake’s laughter was a rumble, and Anna felt embarrassment surge up within her again. How could she never have ridden a horse before? Did he think she was uncultured? She should have ridden a horse. “How about a bike?”
“Oh. Of course. This is just—wider.”
“Yup, easy does it though. Brace yourself on me.”
She allowed herself to do so as she swung her leg around in a wide arc, grateful for the swingy skirt of her short dress. Jake dismounted from the motorcycle with far more style, and turned around to grin at her. “So how was your first ride?”
“It was great!” Anna said, not even having to fake enthusiasm. “Thank you so much for bringing me home. I can just walk from—”
“Not so fast, honey,” Jake said, hooking hi
s thumbs into his belt. “Why don’t you come in and tell me a little bit more about your needs for next weekend?”
“My … needs?” Unbidden, Anna’s brain short-circuited, flashing a slew of images that involved Jake Flynn in various stages of nakedness.
“For the wedding,” he prompted. He unclasped her helmet and pulled it off her head, stowing it on the handles of the bike. Somehow, he seemed a lot taller here than he had at the club, and his black shirt contrasted with his tanned skin in the glow of the streetlight. “Or have you just decided not to go at all?”
“The wedding! Right. And no, I have to go.” Anna started to struggle out of the jacket, but Jake just turned around and ambled toward the back of his brownstone. Panic flared inside of Anna. Don’t go in there with him! He’s trying to get you inside! And while that sounded like a damned fine idea to her, some latent panic button seemed intent on pressing itself inside her brain. “Wait!” she managed. “I have to give your jacket back to you.”
“Give it to me inside, or—” He paused and seemed to catch himself, leaning against the frame as he turned back to her. “Actually, if you don’t want to come in, that’s totally cool, too. I can walk you back home.”
He was going to walk her back, see? He was going to be a complete gentleman. This rough-handed, hard-bodied, totally smokin’ hot mechanic person was going to treat her more carefully than half the guys she worked with and pretty much all the guys she’d ever dated. “No, it’s fine. I can walk myself,” Anna said, clutching his jacket in front of her. It really did weigh a ton. “What do you have in this thing, lead?”
He grinned. “Something like that.” He cocked his head toward the house. “You know, I’ve got the world’s best coffee in here, if you’re interested.”
Anna was on the verge of coming up with a reason to head back to her lonely single bedroom in her empty brownstone all by herself like the good, smart, safe girl that she was … when one word stopped her.
“You have coffee?” she asked, latching on to the idea like a lifeline. Coffee was safe, wasn’t it? People didn’t do the horizontal mambo over a cup of coffee, did they? Or cut people up with a complete set of steak knives?
“Only the best java in Boston, and I know that’s saying something.”
She held out his jacket. “You sir, are wrong,” she sniffed, glad to be on suddenly familiar ground. “Erin holds that accolade. Let me just text her where I am, okay?”
“I got all night, sweetheart,” Jake said. He took his jacket back and opened the garage door. As the door rumbled up, he really did seem at his ease. He rolled his bike into the shadows while Anna dug her phone out of her purse and texted Erin a quick note. There, see? If Anna didn’t show up at home tonight, the police would know right where to start looking. Jake wouldn’t try anything illegal knowing that the police were waiting right outside his door, right? She glanced up to find him watching her as the garage door slid shut again, and for no reason whatsoever, heat pooled in her belly. There was something about his gaze, even from across his driveway, that felt all sorts of illegal to her, though she wasn’t sure what crime he could possibly be committing. “You good?” he prompted, and she started, realizing she’d been staring at him like an idiot, transfixed in the streetlight.
“Yes,” she said, making a show of slipping her phone back into her purse.
He opened up the back door. “Then come on in and prepare to be amazed.”
Jake waited only until Anna had a hold on the door before he turned and moved into the lighted hallway and immediately hit the stairs. The place wasn’t much to look at, he knew, even though he’d spent the past six months working on it. “Kitchen’s right up here,” he called over his shoulder. When he didn’t hear Anna’s steps behind him, he glanced back.
She was staring at the banister, of all the crazy things. “Is this original to the house?” she asked, petting the shiny surface like it was a kitten.
A spurt of vindication joined the need that was coursing through his bloodstream, which was good. He needed a distraction. “Everything is original to the house in this place,” he said. “I didn’t want to deal with people rummaging through my grandma’s stuff, fixing everything up, so I just did the best I could with what was here.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Anna breathed, rubbing her hand along the smooth surface that had taken him the better part of a week to strip and stain and polish. He swallowed, watching her fingers move up the banister with a loving caress as she finally started up the stairs. “You did this yourself?”
“I’m a man of many talents.” He was also a man who was harder than a goddamn pole, and he turned to continue up the stairs. The back stairs led right into the kitchen, and that’s where the espresso machine was. He’d watched Anna enough for the past several months to know the woman liked her coffee, if her jumbo travel mugs were any indication. He’d also watched enough of her for the past few minutes to know she liked him. So what was he going to do about that?
Way too many possibilities presented themselves to him, which meant he needed to cool it. Anna was a nice piece of ass, and she definitely tripped his trigger, but she was also a good girl. A professional woman who wasn’t used to rough guys with rougher manners. Now that he’d touched her, he could feel that rougher edge of him sit up and take notice, and she didn’t want to see that edge come out. So, he needed to be careful.
Too bad he wasn’t really known for that.
Jake moved into his kitchen with Anna trailing behind him, then over to the counter to busy himself with the blend of espresso beans he was currently favoring. He liked his coffee, too. There were certain things he cared about in life—only a few of them, really. But the few that he had chosen to be his obsessions were of paramount importance to him. His bikes, of course. Not just the ones he owned, but the ones he worked on. They came from all over the world, it seemed, no matter where he holed himself up, always with just enough work needed to keep him in gas and travel money. Never so much cash that he felt like he had to figure out what to do with it, and never so much work that it became a pain in the ass. He’d started messing around with bikes right about the time he’d first found himself banished from the house, after coming home with bloody knuckles and a split lip. The guys at the local bike shop were glad to have another set of hands for free, and he’d spent most of that summer with them to avoid going home, learning everything he could. He’d been what, maybe fourteen when he’d caught the motorcycle bug? Now, almost ten years later, it was practically a religion for him.
That, and coffee.
“My God, what is that thing?” Anna said behind him. She’d made it up to the kitchen, and as he turned and took in her wide eyes and mussed hair, he felt desire tighten its grip on him and settle in for a long ride. Shit, she was beautiful, and not just because her mouth was rounded in a soft O of appreciation as she stared.
Of course, she was staring at his coffee machine, but still.
She made it forward a few more steps, shoving him aside as she took in the oversized, professional-grade barista station his last bike job had paid for. He’d junked his first deluxe coffee machine as being too damned difficult to mess with, but this baby was worth every dime, with both automatic and manual settings to ensure that he got the joe he needed, no matter what mood he was in. At this exact moment, with Anna standing so close to him and breathing so heavily, he didn’t have enough blood left over for his brain to do anything more than the basics, so he just refilled the coffee and set it in motion.
“Little late for espresso, I guess,” he said. “But you’ve got to try this.”
“Never too late for—oh my God. This thing makes lattes too? Where has it been all my life?”
He grinned as the machine churned through its processes, glad for the diversion. Anna apparently didn’t need anything so prosaic as coffee to occupy her, however, and turned her gaze to look around the kitchen. Though it was all 1940s chic, he’d thanked his grandmother a million times over for keeping
everything she owned in reasonable condition, all the way up to the day she’d finally announced that she was tired of cleaning house. After she’d moved in with his aunt in Vermont, Jake’d been summoned out of the southwestern haven he’d been favoring for the past year or so, to prepare Gran’s house for sale. He’d liked the compromise. He may not be fit to be around family, but at least he could be somewhere that reminded him of family, and without the risk of pissing off anyone but the neighbors. Most of the past five years he’d been in the wind, working odd jobs, honing his craft, traveling all over whenever he’d needed to let off steam. He’d thought he’d turned his back on the Northeast for good, yet here he was, tuning up bikes in Gran’s garage. Life was a funny bitch.
Anna was making soft cooing noises over his grandmother’s toaster when the coffee finished. “You want some of this or what?” Jake asked, and she looked up at him, her mouth slack, her eyes big. Then her gaze dropped to the mug he held in his hands, and it was all he could do not to laugh. Anna Richardson was wound every bit as tight as he was.
“Thanks,” she said, and took the espresso from him. He looked away as she blew across the surface of her drink. He could only take so much. “Ohhhh,” she sighed as she took her first drink, but Jake had already set his half-drained cup aside. The idea of tasting espresso-accented Anna had just won out for him.
“You like that?” he asked, and she opened her eyes, seeming to take in the fact that he had moved closer to her.
“I do,” she said, nodding. However, she didn’t protest as he took the mug out of her hands and placed it on the counter. She also didn’t protest as he tucked his fingers below her chin, then lifted it up until their gazes locked.
“How about this?” he murmured, and leaned down to brush his lips over hers.
Fake It Page 4