by Desiree Holt
He laughed. “No, but you do, and I believe it just walked in the door. And he’s early tonight.”
She couldn’t help herself. She stared. He’d trimmed his scruff so it was close to the skin, making him sexier if that was even possible. His hair was neatly combed even if it was a little long. Tonight, his jeans were a little less worn, and, instead of a T-shirt, he wore a long-sleeved Henley, both of which showed off his muscular build to its best advantage.
“Oh.” The word popped automatically.
Paddy chuckled. “Stop drooling,” he teased. “You’ll get it on your blouse.”
“Um, not drooling.” She gave herself a mental shake. “He’s just a guy, right?”
“If you want to keep telling yourself that.” He nudged her until she turned to face him. “Mary, you can certainly do whatever you want. We’re not your keepers. But the Collins family has kind of adopted you as an honorary member, so Dad, Pop, and I especially want to keep an eye on things for you. Who is this guy? And why doesn’t he have anything to do except come in here every night and sit watching you and talking to you? We don’t know a thing about him—”
“He did two tours as a member of Delta Force, he’s from Tampa, and he’s not married.” She’d gleaned all of that from their conversations. “He’s taking some time to see the country, and he stopped in Baltimore because it looked like a nice place. He’s Irish, and when he looked up pubs, this one came up first. I don’t think he’s been in prison, but of course we could always check that. And he doesn’t show any signs of disease.”
At that, Paddy threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll shut up.” Then his face became serious. “But just be very careful, okay?”
“Okay.” She nodded, but she wanted to tell him in her previous line of work she’d had to be an intuitive judge of character because many of the people lied to make themselves look good. It had been up to her to separate the real from the phony. Although, she had begun to wonder why Marcus sat at the end of the bar night after night, nursing one, maybe two bottles of beer and chatting her up. He’d never even asked her out. If he did, would she go?
In a heartbeat.
Then she nudged Paddy and pointed to where Marcus had slid onto the stool next to Pat. “I think he’s decided to brave the inquisition, though. Probably why he’s early tonight, before your grandfather’s cronies take up the seats next to him.”
Paddy nodded. “If he survives, that will tell us a lot about him.”
It was a Wednesday night, so it wasn’t until after eight o’clock that they had a reasonable crowd in the pub. The regulars who liked sitting at the bar usually tried to get there before all the stools were gone. Frank Eglington was one of the earlier ones as usual.
“I guess you’re planning to break my heart, sweet Mary,” he teased as she placed a beer in front of him. “I may never get over it.”
Mary grinned at him. “Frank, you know you could have your pick of the single women in this place.”
He looked around. “Too bad I don’t see anyone who catches my eye except for you.” Then he turned back to face her, leaning forward a little. Just the same, you watch yourself, you hear? We don’t really know a lot about him.”
Oh, for god’s sake.
She wanted to throw up her hands. She appreciated the fact the people she’d come to know over the past few months felt so proprietary where she was concerned, and it gave her a feeling of security. But she considered herself to have good instincts about people. She’d met plenty sleazeballs dressed up and dressed down, and, by now, she felt she could spot them easily. She wasn’t sure exactly what Marcus Dupree was, but sleazeball didn’t even enter into her mind.
As she worked the bar, mixing drinks, pulling drafts, grabbing ice cold bottles of beer, she kept an eye on Pat and Marcus, engaged in what looked like earnest conversation. Or maybe it was just Marcus who was earnest. Pat had his usual “tell me everything” look on his face even as he digested and processed all information as well as body language and his own instincts. Which, she had to admit, were better than radar. At least Pat didn’t look like he wanted to kill the man, and Marcus didn’t look irritated. She was dying to know how it was going, but the couple of times she tried to refresh their drinks and eavesdrop, Paddy elbowed her aside.
“You’ll know soon enough if he gives it his blessing,” he murmured. “Meanwhile, I need a peach martini and two Moscow mules.”
Finally, finally, finally, Marcus drained his beer and placed the empty bottle on the bar. He shook hands with Pat, slid off his stool, and headed for his regular seat. With a mental So there, when she came on her shift, she tipped it forward, signaling the spot was taken. Marcus righted it and slid into it with catlike grace. Mary grabbed a bottle of Murphy’s Irish Red, popped the top, and set it in front of him. Then she filled a bowl with nuts and placed it next to the beer.
“Man, that’s some custom service you get,” the man next to him commented, eyebrows raised.
Marcus slid the bowl so it sat between the two of them. “Help yourself, buddy.” Then he leaned across the bar to Mary. “But I like the personal service.”
And there was that damn blush creeping up her face again, heating her cheeks. She hadn’t blushed since she was a teenager.
“You’re welcome,” was all she could think to say.
Lucky for her, three customers signaled for refills, and that got her out of the danger zone. Then, like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet, she was back at the end of the bar. To look like she was doing something besides drooling over Marcus between waiting on customers, she picked up the nut bowls and took them to the end of the counter to refill.
“Guess you’re not so special after all,” the guy next to Marcus joked.
“At Pat’s Irish Pub,” Mary said virtuously, “all the customers are special.”
She made a show of scattering the bowls along the bar, but then she was back to Marcus, her curiosity driving her.
“So,” she said, as nonchalant as she could be, “I see you had a nice conversation with Pat. It was, wasn’t it? Nice?”
His mouth curved in that panty-melting smile. “Yes. It was very nice. Since he seems to be your self-appointed guardian, I figured I’d let him grill me before I asked you.”
“Asked me? Asked me what?”
“Why, to take a ride on my bike with me.”
Ride with Mr. Sexy Motorcycle on the sexiest bike in the world?
And how many times can I think the word sex in one sentence?
“On your motorcycle?” Well, of course, dummy. Not on his back. “I mean, why yes, that would be very nice. Thank you.”
“I guess you drive yourself to work, right?”
“Usually,” she said, moving the bowl of nuts around. “But today, when I came out, I had a flat tire. Must have run over something sharp. Paddy picked me up, but, in the morning, I have to see about getting it changed and fixed.”
“See how nice things work out?” He winked at her. “I can give you a ride home. Then, in the morning, I can come by and take a look at your car.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you a mechanic?”
He shrugged. “I need to have some skills to keep the bike running in tiptop shape.”
“Oh. Well. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
But I want to. Please, please, please.
He reached across the bar for one of her hands. The contact sent such a shock of electricity through her she wondered it didn’t short out the wiring in the bar.
“You didn’t ask me,” he reminded her. “I volunteered. And it would be my pleasure.”
“I work until closing,” she reminded him.
There was that smile again. Once more and her legs would buckle and she’d drop to the floor.
“I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be worth it.” He drained the last of his beer. “In that case, I think I’ll switch to coffee.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get you a mug.”
When she brought
it back from the kitchen and placed it in front of him, she was pleased to notice her hands didn’t tremble. She was less pleased, however, to see Frank watching her knowingly. The wink he gave her didn’t make her feel any more comfortable, either.
Normally, she didn’t mind slow nights at the bar. It gave her a chance to chat with the regulars, many of whom she’d gotten to know quite well by now. She could even talk some of them into trying the exotic drinks she liked to mix. But tonight, she felt as if every nerve in her skin was sizzling and crackling. At one point, she deliberately spilled some coffee on her blouse so she could change into a Pat’s Irish Pub T-shirt and hide her swollen nipples. If this went on much longer, she might run around the end of the bar, knock Marcus to the floor, and jump on him.
Holy shit!
She had to get hold of herself. Six cups of coffee later, she was barely more controlled. When, finally, at eleven o’clock, Tris looked around the bar and told her to take off early, she wanted to kiss him. Well, figuratively. She was acutely aware of Marcus watching her as she went about closing herself out at the bar, wiping down her area, and making sure things were in order for Paddy. And all the time, she could feel Marcus’s eyes boring into her.
“Get out of here,” Paddy said. “You’re good. Just watch yourself.”
“I will,” she told him in a low voice.
She walked around the end of the bar and headed toward the door, Marcus moving with lazy grace to arrive at the front of the bar when she did. She stopped, as usual, to say good night to Pat.
He gave her a hug and whispered in her ear, “You watch yourself and keep your cell phone on at all times.”
“I will. I promise.”
“He seems to be okay, but we’re here if you need us.”
“Thanks.” She hugged him back.
Marcus opened the door for her and ushered her outside. The monster bike was sitting right at the curb, under the street light that bathed the doorway of the pub. Its black body gleamed in the reflected light, and she could almost hear the roar of its engine.
Marcus took a key ring from his pocket and unlocked the bike then unlocked another tiny little metal box attached to it.
“Alarm,” he told her. “If anyone tries to mess with the bike, it makes a god-awful noise.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll bet a lot of men drool over this.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin. “Women, too.”
She wanted to tell him this woman sure did. Instead, she stood there and waited, squeezing her thighs together so she didn’t have an orgasm standing right here in front of the pub.
Marcus opened the saddlebag on one side of the rear tire and took out two helmets, handing one to her.
“Do you carry this around just in case you find a woman to climb on behind you?”
“Actually, Miss Smarty Pants, I bought it today because I hoped you’d say yes to a ride. And I’m hoping you’ll climb on my front, too.”
She stared at him, face heating, mouth open. What did she say to that?
Not much, so she put the helmet on and tried to fasten it.
“Here. Let me do that.” He brushed her fingers away so he could hook the chin strap in place for her.
Just the touch of his hand ratcheted up the heat level in her body. Oh, she was in such big trouble.
“There.” He smiled at her, his gaze locked with hers.
The color of his eyes had deepened almost to navy, and, in the light from the street lamp, she was sure she saw little gold flecks. Or was that heat flashing?
He ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, stroking it, before he stepped back. She missed his touch at once. She’d had the insane idea he was going to kiss her, and disappointment flooded her.
“I do need one thing from you, though. Your address.”
“Oh. Right.” She rattled it off.
She watched as he pulled out his cell phone and googled directions. Then he pulled a leather jacket out of the same saddle bag as the helmets and helped her into it. It was miles too big for her, but he wrapped it around her. She couldn’t help herself. She inhaled, drawing a deep breath of his tantalizing scent.
“Next time, you’ll need to bring one of your own.” He grinned, looking at her.
“Next time?”
“Oh, yeah.” He winked. “This is only the beginning.”
Yes! Yes! Yes!
“And better shoes, too,” he added. “Okay. Ready?”
“But what about you?” she asked. “Don’t you need a jacket?”
“I’m good. For now, anyway. Ever ridden a bike before?”
She shook her head. “But I’ve seen plenty of pictures.”
“Don’t worry.” He cupped her chin and smiled into her eyes. “I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”
Please do! Anything! Really!
He reached down to flip what he told her were footrests and locked them into place. Then he straddled the motorcycle.
“Put one foot on the left footrest,” he told her. “Swing the other foot over to reach the one on the right. Then tuck yourself into the space right behind me. And hold on tight.”
She had to grab onto his shoulder to balance herself. The minute she touched him, electricity arced between them so strong she wondered it didn’t light up the night sky. She managed to swing her leg over and find the other footrest. But then she had to press herself up against him and slide her hands around to hold onto him, and she was afraid she’d have a mini-orgasm right there on the bike.
“Slide your hands beneath my shirt,” he told her. “You’ll be able to hold on better.”
Uh-oh. Touch his bare skin?
She did as he asked, but when she touched the warm body beneath the thin Henley, it was almost more than she could bear. She had never, ever, since her first make-out session, had this kind of a reaction. Was she so sex-starved that any hot guy would turn her on like that?
No! Not just any guy. This hot guy, who somehow managed to push all of her buttons. But, stuck to him like adhesive, she could feel his heat seep into her body, smell the excruciatingly tantalizing scent of his aftershave, and feel the beat of his heart beneath her hands. In the tiny space where she sat, her mound was pressed hard against his very firm ass and the pulse in her overheated pussy pounded like a bass drum.
“Ready?” he called over his shoulder.
“Ready,” she answered, but she wasn’t sure for what.
He cranked the ignition, the engine roared, and they took off down the street. She was glad to see he drove at a safe pace, but as they wound sedately through the streets of Baltimore, she couldn’t help but wish they were on an open highway where he could really open it up.
This ride was doing things for her she hadn’t expected. Ever since the poster, she’d wondered how she’d feel riding on a beast like this. Well, now she knew. The vibration of the bike as it roared along spread through her body, starting between her thighs and moving up all the way to her breasts. It was like having a massive dildo for her entire body. She knew her panties were soaked by this time and wondered if the scent of her musk would permeate Marcus’s jeans where her mound was pressed up against him. The thrum of the bike’s engine was like a small vibrator on her clit.
She wondered what he’d do if she slid her fingers down just a little lower, to the fly of his jeans. What if she unzipped it and slid her fingers inside? Wrapped them around his cock and stroked him as he guided them up one street and down another.
Holy Mary!
She never had thoughts like this. She wanted to blame the damn poster, but that had just been the beginning. Right now, she contented herself with plastering her body to Marcus’s and enjoying the state of arousal caused by the vibrations.
All too soon, they pulled up in front of the duplex. Her neighbors were all asleep by this hour, and she hoped the noise of the bike’s engine wouldn’t disturb them too much. If they complained to her landlord, she’d have to find another place to live. But then s
he remembered she’d heard other motorcycles on the street in the mornings.
Marcus shut off the motorcycle and sat there in her driveway, his feet on the pavement on either side steadying it in place. Mary sat there for a moment, not sure what to do next. Then she realized he was waiting for her to get off first.
“Can you dismount okay?” he asked.
“What? Oh! Yes, sure.” As gracefully as possible, she managed to dismount, in the process rubbing her crotch against Marcus’s firm rear end.
He grabbed her wrist, closing his long fingers around it and tugging her around to face him. “You’d better not do that again unless you mean business.”
“D-do what?”
“Rub that hot little pussy of yours up against me like that. A man can only handle so much.”
Chapter Five
Mary stared at him as if he’d spoken in a foreign language, but he could see in her eyes she wasn’t the least bit turned off by what he’d said. He himself was so aroused by the ride he’d blurted it out without thinking.
Way to go, Marcus. Some secret agent I am.
“Um.” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, and his cock screamed loud and clear for release.
The ride from the pub had been almost painful. With her body pressed up against him, the heat of her pussy warming his ass, and her hands locked together just above his fly, he’d been able to define what real agony was.
Finally, he climbed off the beast and wheeled it up her driveway to park it to next to her car in the carport. He spotted the flat tire right away.
“I can change that for you,” he told her. “We can take the flat in, get it fixed, and I can put it back on the car.”
Her eyebrows flew up, and she looked at her watch. “Now?”
He chuckled. “No, not now. But in the morning. What time does your shift start tomorrow?”
She ran her tongue over her lower lip, sending hot signals right to his straining cock.
Jesus, Marcus.
“Three in the afternoon.”
“Good. I can take care of the tire then we can have some breakfast and take a ride on the beast in the daylight. You up for that?”