Despite her orgasm, she felt herself winding right back up. His scent filled her head, and the raw timbre of his voice tickled her ears. His tall, sexy body filled up her line of vision.
She shook her head, desperate to remember her objective.
Slow. Easy.
“I, um, wouldn’t know. I’ve never actually ridden a motorcycle.”
Liar. That’s what his gaze seemed to say, but he didn’t voice the sentiment out loud. Instead, he shrugged. “That’s a shame. You’re really missing out. There’s nothing like climbing on the back of one of these babies and cutting loose.”
Amen.
She could still feel the handlebars in her grasp, the gas tank between her legs, the cool, delicious leather rasping her—“—try it at least once if you’re going to write about it.”
His voice shattered the memory and snatched her back to the present. “Excuse me?”
“I said you’ll have to take at least one ride.” His gaze sparked. “A real ride,” he added, “if you really want to get it right for your article.” Suspicion worked its way into his expression. “That’s why you’re here, right? To get info for your article?”
“Of course.” Not that he believed her. She could see the doubt in his guarded expression and the way his body stiffened. The muscles in his arms rippled and tensed. “Why else?” She went for the wide-eyed, innocent look that had rated number nine on Winona’s list.
It was a look that appealed to a man’s baser instincts. It said poor little old me needs big strong you, and it was guaranteed to make a man forget everything—the football game, the yard work, the cute little honey washing her car next door.
He stared at her, as if he could see the answer if he looked long and hard enough. He couldn’t. Thankfully. And so he finally shrugged. “It just seems a little too coincidental that you showed up here. Now. Don’t you think?”
“Not really. Stranger things happen all the time.” Before he could say anything else, she rushed on, “You’re right. I definitely need to take a real ride if I want to write about the activity with any enthusiasm. But since I’m out of my element I’d really like to get some background info first.” What was she saying? If the man wanted to give her a ride, then all the better. But a ride and a ride were two different things, and if they got that close, she could forget slow and easy. She would take the lead and be the aggressor and that would surely kill her chances at an orgasm.
Better to slow down for now. A little small talk and his guard would ease. He would go back to flirting with her, and the situation would escalate from there. “I’d really like to snap a few pictures right now.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were scared. But then you’re a vampire, and vampires aren’t scared of anything.” He meant the comment as a dig. A reminder of how she’d deceived him so long ago.
But she didn’t need any reminders. She lived with the guilt every day. She shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m a big sissy when it comes to sunlight. And wooden stakes. And reality TV.”
The sudden tension between them seemed to melt and his mouth hinted at a grin. “Whatever happened to sitcom re-runs?”
“You obviously don’t have cable. They’ve got a channel for that. They’ve got a channel for everything now. Thankfully. Otherwise, how else would we keep up with the times?”
“Car and Driver.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s how I keep up with the times. I read a lot of Car and Driver. And Hot Rod. And Motorcycle Mania.”
“Maybe I’m dense, but I don’t see how that keeps you up on popular culture.”
“Then you haven’t read an issue. See, the actual machines keep me up on technological changes. And the car girls…” His smile was slow and wicked and fueled with enough innuendo to make her heart stop. “They keep me updated on popular culture.”
“How so?”
“Take Daisy, for instance. She was the centerfold in the last issue of C & D, along with the latest eco-friendly Porsche that just rolled off the assembly line. She was wearing a recycled string bikini and sipping a fruit smoothie. One glance at her and I knew green was in.”
“One glance at the TV Guide, and you’d know that. There are at least a dozen recycling shows on and QVC has an entire hour dedicated to environmentally friendly cosmetics. And neither contributes to the exploitation of women,” she added.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.” His grin widened. “But then vampires don’t get jealous any more than they get scared.”
It wasn’t a dig this time. Just a simple fact that reminded her that no matter how much she wanted Garret, she didn’t like him. Not genuine, ’til-death-do-us-part like. Maybe a long, long time ago. But even then it hadn’t been the real thing. There’d been too many lies between them for the emotion to have been genuine.
She dismissed the strange jealousy niggling at her and said, “I can see how Car & Driver would have its benefit for someone in your line of work.”
“I don’t get a chance to watch much TV, so it’s the magazines or nothing else. I stay pretty busy with my choppers.”
She eyed the motorcycle skeleton sitting atop the center table. “New project?”
He nodded. “Just one of a dozen on the schedule for this week.”
“Sounds like business is good.”
“Very. We’ve got this new software that saves us not only money, but time—”
“Wait.” She motioned to him before reaching for her purse. She retrieved a small, hand-held tape recorder from her bag and tried to ignore the hunger yawning inside. Punching the record button, she set the device off to the side. “In case I miss something.”
While the article was just a cover to get her here with him, she was still responsible for turning something in to the travel mag who’d fronted her the money for her trip south.
She motioned to him. “Go on.”
“We can design, build and finalize a bike in a third the time it used to take.”
“We?”
“Jake McCann, Dillon Cash and yours truly. Jake does the design, I do the actual fabrication and Dillon handles overall operations. We don’t just handcraft made-to-order custom bikes,” he went on, “we’re also doing several spec choppers. They’re selling like crazy, and so we’re getting busier by the minute. This is one of a dozen we’re doing for a bike shop in Austin.” He hit a button on a nearby computer screen and a 3-D image appeared. “This is what it will look like on completion.” Another few buttons and the layers of the bike started to peel away. “This is where we are right now.”
“Seems pretty high-tech.”
“It is. At the same time, it’s still good old-fashioned hard work that makes each bike come to life. We shape everything by hand. The computer software just gives us accurate specs and a list of supplies so that we don’t make any costly mistakes along the way.” He eyed the recorder. “You sure you want to hear this stuff? I can’t imagine you’ll include it in a travel article.”
“Maybe not, but it gives me an overall handle on the business, which will help with the writing.” Hey, it sounded good. Besides, she liked hearing him talk. That had attracted her to him almost as much as the sex. He’d never been one of those men to roll over and fall asleep. He’d pulled her closer into the crook of his arm, rested his head atop hers and talked. About any and everything. About nothing.
She missed his voice almost as much as she missed the toe-curling orgasms.
Almost.
“I need as much information as possible when I write,” she went on. “Even information I might not end up using. So how long have you been working with Dillon and Jake?”
The easy rapport they’d lapsed into seemed to melt away, and the tension pushed back in. He grew wary, as if he didn’t like her bringing up his coworkers.
He didn’t. She could see the hesitation in his gaze, the tensing of his muscles as he fortified his guard.
She didn’t think he wo
uld answer her, but finally he murmured, “Dillon just came on board about six months ago. He’s a local.”
“A vampire?”
“Now.”
She wanted to ask what that meant, but the dangerous gleam in his gaze warned her off. “What about Jake?”
“We’ve been friends since the eighteen hundreds.”
Which meant he was a vampire, as well.
She wondered if Garret had turned him or if they’d merely banded together as a means of survival. She opened her mouth to ask, but she didn’t get the chance.
“I’ve really got a lot of work to do.” His expression closed. “The others will be in later if you have any questions for them. There are several choppers in the holding room.” He pointed to a nearby door. “That’s where we keep the finished bikes that are waiting to be shipped out. Feel free to set up in there and take as many pictures as you need.”
Before she could protest, he pulled on a welding mask, fired up his unit and went to work on the strips of metal sitting on the opposite table.
So much for small talk.
9
VIV SPENT THE NEXT half hour snapping pictures of the various choppers in the holding room. She made sure to leave the door open so she could get in the occasional sultry smile if Garret should happen to glance her way.
He didn’t.
No hungry glances. No I-want-you-but-I-don’t-want-to-want-you smiles. No I’m-a-sex-starved-vampire-and-I-can’t-control-myself stares.
Nada.
“It’s not working,” she told Winona a few minutes later when she retreated into the ladies room and pulled out her cell phone.
“Who is this?” asked a groggy voice.
“Viv. Viv Darland. The reporter staying at the motel. I sat in on your class tonight.” Winona mumbled a groggy “Oh, yeah,” and Viv rushed on, “I’m sorry to call so late, but I didn’t know what else to do. You said you were available for dating emergencies.”
Bedsprings groaned in the background, followed by a faint click as a light switched on. “Are you on a date?” Winona went from groggy to excited in a nanosecond.
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’m here and he’s here and we’re alone, so I guess that qualifies.”
“I’m in bed with my cat, Pumpkin, but that doesn’t make him my significant other. Scoot, Pumpkin,” the woman ordered. “Can’t you see I’m working?” Sheets rustled, and a frantic meow echoed in the distance. “Does this man even know you like him?” Winona’s attention shifted back to Viv.
She thought of Garret’s knowing expression when he’d first walked in on her. The glimmer in his eyes. The sexy murmur of his voice. “Maybe. I’m not really sure.”
“Does he like you?”
“I’m not sure about that either. I followed the commandments, but they don’t seem to be working. He’s ignoring me.”
“Maybe he’s just trying to come off like he’s ignoring you.”
“You really think so?”
“That depends. What’s he doing right now?”
“Welding.”
“All right, so he’s ignoring you. But that doesn’t mean the commandments aren’t working,” Winona rushed on as if sensing Viv’s disappointment. “It just means you haven’t been using them long enough. Just hang in there, and stick to what I taught you. He’ll come around eventually.”
“The eventually is what I’m afraid of. I don’t exactly have a lot of time.”
“I know. Eldin told me that as soon as you’re finished with your article, you’re moving on. The life of a reporter ain’t really conducive to a relationship, is it?”
“No, ma’am.” Which was exactly why Viv had chosen it. It kept her moving. Running.
Not anymore.
She swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat. “I would really appreciate any advice you could give me to speed things along.”
“Let’s see…” Winona seemed to think. “You might try dropping a few knick-knacks. That always worked with my dear, departed husband.”
“Knick-knacks?”
“You know, anything. Everything. The point is to give him an eyeful when you go to pick up whatever it is you dropped. Either it’s an eyeful of cleavage or your ba-donk-a-donk. Why, I was bent over cleaning dust bunnies out from under the fridge when my oldest daughter was conceived. Can’t get a better success rate than that.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you. I charge extra for on-call. I’ll drop a bill by your motel room first thing tomorrow morning.” A loud click punctuated the statement.
Viv dropped her cell back into her purse, splashed some cold water onto her face and summoned her courage. She walked back into the large room where she’d set up her equipment and slid a glance toward the open doorway that led to the fabrication shop.
Garret wore heat-resistant gloves that went clear to his elbows. A welding mask hid his face as he torched the edge of a metal strip before hammering it down.
Torch. Hammer. Torch. Hammer.
She fought down a wave of self-consciousness and reached for a roll of film. After plucking the package from her equipment bag, she half-turned. Her fingers went limp, and the roll hit the concrete with a soft thud.
“Oh, no. Clumsy me,” she said, her voice a few decibals louder than normal. She gathered her determination, bent at the waist and did a slow motion retrieval that would have perpetuated the Adkins gene pool for the next fifty years.
Just as her fingers closed around the film, she stalled for a few seconds to give Garret an eyeful.
He didn’t spare her a glance.
Instead, he bent over the metal, his attention fully focused on his task.
Torch. Hammer. Torch. Hammer.
Her gaze snagged on one bicep and the familiar slave band tattoo that peeked beneath the edge. The sight reminded her of her own markings, and guilt spiraled through her followed by a wave of self-doubt.
Maybe he was really and truly no longer attracted to her. Despite the hunger that lived and breathed inside of him.
Because of it.
Because he could satisfy his need with any woman. Every woman. He didn’t need her. Not emotionally or physically. He never had. He’d just been mesmerized.
Her chest tightened at the thought.
Not that it mattered.
All that really mattered was that she needed him.
While he could get what he craved from any female, she could only get what she so desperately wanted—a bona fide orgasm—from one male.
Him.
If she really wanted to orgasm with an actual partner, she couldn’t let herself get discouraged.
She wiggled just a little to emphasize her breasts before she straightened and put the film back into her bag. Her hand brushed the lens cap sitting on the table, and it tumbled over the edge.
“Whoops,” she said again. Louder this time. “I swear I’m all thumbs tonight.”
If at first you don’t succeed…
IF SHE DROPPED ONE more thing—anything—he was going to stake himself with the nearest sharp object.
That is, if he didn’t burst into a ball of flames first.
He hit the Off switch on the welder, and the blue flame died. But it did nothing to ease the fire that burned inside of him.
He was too worked up.
Too turned on.
Too damned intent on retaining his control and keeping the hunger contained.
Lust pushed and pulled inside of him. His nerves buzzed. Electricity sizzled across his skin, and he grew hotter by the second.
He tugged off his T-shirt, but the rush of air against his bare skin did little to help. He reached for a plain sheet of metal. The cool material heated instantly beneath the hot pads of his fingertips. The air seemed to shimmer with the heat radiating from his body.
As if confirming his worst fear, the temperature-sensitive fans near the computer table kicked on with a click and whoosh. They revved, cranking up to full blast to cool down the rapidly warming equipment
.
He heard the glub, glub, glub of bubbles. The sharp scent of boiling gasoline spiraled from the half-full gallon-sized container sitting near the doorway.
And all because of her.
Because he wanted her, and he couldn’t—wouldn’t act on it.
Don’t look.
That’s what he told himself.
But damned if his eyes would cooperate.
When she leaned over just the way she was doing right now, her backside to him, he couldn’t not look.
He caught a glimpse of the dewy pink flesh between her legs. The tender insides of her thighs. The tiny beauty mark that dotted her left ass cheek.
His groin throbbed, and his gut clenched. He felt the sharp graze of his fangs against his tongue. The heat sizzling his fingertips—
Damn it.
His gaze dropped to the smoke spiraling from his grip on the piece of metal. He dropped the material and stared through the shimmering air at his seared black skin.
“Just call me klutz.” Her voice slid into his ears and snagged his attention.
He glanced up in time to see the bright blue of her eyes and the fullness of her lips just before she bent forward—facing him this time—to retrieve her lens cap. Her blouse ballooned, and her breasts quivered. He glimpsed one ripe nipple as she shifted and reached.
Every muscle in his body went tight. He balled his fingers against a wave of white-hot need that drenched him. His vision blurred, and his ears started to ring.
Through a haze he saw her straighten. She tugged at the collar of her blouse, as if she felt the heat as much as he did. Her gaze collided with his. Desire brightened her eyes, along with a glimmer of desperation that reached across the distance separating them and sucker-punched him right in the gut.
She made a big show of dropping another roll of film, and Garret reached his limit.
He was halfway across the room, his fangs extended, his heart pounding, his hunger raging, when the gas can exploded.
10
THE NEXT FEW MOMENTS seemed to go in slow motion as the fire blazed from the container’s spout, shot up the wall and ate up the door frame.
A Body to Die For Page 7