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‘It’s fantastic!’ Her voice was muffled by the helmet but giddy with pleasure.
‘You liked it, huh?’
She nodded, grinning back at him. As she tried to undo the helmet strap with shaking fingers, he brushed her hands aside and did the job for her, lifting it off her head. ‘You’re a real biker chick now, Red.’
The feel of her lush body wrapped around him had made Monroe’s jeans uncomfortably tight, but he couldn’t help smiling at the look of pure pleasure on her face. Seeing a small mark on her forehead, he rubbed it softly with his thumb. ‘Looks like you could do with a better helmet, though.’
‘Don’t worry about that. It felt wonderful. Everything felt wonderful. It was so exciting. No wonder you’ve spent all those years riding around on your motorbike.’
There was no censure in her words, none of the disdain that she had shown him last night, only joy and enthusiasm. With her emerald eyes sparkling, her hair curling wildly and the pink glow of pleasure flushing her cheeks, she looked gorgeous.
He wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.
Stunned by the sudden reckless urge, Monroe swung back round and concentrated on attaching the helmet to the handlebars.
‘You better climb down first,’ he muttered.
Jessie stared at his back as she hopped off the Harley. What had happened? One minute he’d been smiling at her, enjoying the moment with her, and then, all of a sudden, he’d as good as dismissed her.
She adjusted her bag as he lifted his leg over the bike.
‘Thanks for the ride. It was…’She babbled to a halt, seeing the intensity in his eyes as he turned to her. She wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue and his gaze shot down to her mouth. ‘It was really fun.’ The words came out on a feeble whisper. What was going on here? Why was he staring at her mouth like that? She felt light-headed and she didn’t know why.
‘You’re welcome, Red.’The nickname sounded anything but casual. ‘See that diner?’He nodded across the street. ‘I’ll hang out there when I’m finished till you’re ready to head back.’
The instant thrill at the thought of being back on the bike with him was followed by uncertainty. Maybe she’d enjoyed the ride too much.
‘I might be a while.’
‘Take all the time you need. I’m in no hurry.’
As Jessie walked away from him she was sure she could feel his eyes following her all the way down the street.
After an hour of trying to sell herself to Mrs Belinda Bennett, the proprietor of the Cranford Art Gallery, Jessie was frazzled. She’d chewed off most of her lipstick during the interview, but the hard sell had been worth it. Mrs Bennett had agreed to give her the job of Saturday sales assistant on a trial basis.
Feeling worn out but enthusiastic, Jessie forgot to feel nervous as she wandered into the small coffee house Monroe had indicated. She spotted him immediately, lounging in a booth opposite the door. He looked relaxed and gorgeous with a few sacks of shopping on the seat opposite.
‘Hi.’ She waved. ‘I hope you haven’t been here long.’
He slid out of the booth as she walked up to it. ‘Not long. I was about to order pancakes.’ His gaze took a leisurely journey down to her feet, now encased in the flattering yellow slingbacks, and then came back up again. Jessie’s nerves came back full force when he smiled. ‘It looks even better without the denim,’ he said.
‘Thanks.’ Her voice quivered annoyingly as she slipped into the booth.
‘Move over,’ he said.
She’d expected him to lift up the bags opposite and sit there, but instead he pushed onto the bench seat beside her, nudging her with his hips. When he leant back and put his long, muscled forearm on the seat behind her, she realised she was totally boxed in.
‘So how did it go—you get the job?’
‘Yes, I start on Saturday.’
‘Hey, way to go.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘How about we order pancakes and coffee to celebrate?’
‘That would be lovely, thanks.’
He seemed genuinely pleased for her, so she tried not to notice the way his long, firm thigh was touching her leg. The thin silk of her dress did nothing to protect her against the warm pressure.
As he ordered two short stacks with coffee for them, Jessie noticed the way the teenage waitress blushed profusely. Did he have that potent effect on every woman he met?
‘Looks like you’ve been busy, too.’ She nodded at his purchases, spotting the logo of the town’s expensive art supply shop. ‘What did you get at Melville’s?’
‘Sketching charcoal, a couple of brushes, stuff like that.’
‘Do you paint, then?’
‘Sure, a little.’
‘Really? That’s wonderful. Are you any good?’
He took his arm away from behind her, looked away. ‘I don’t know and I don’t really give a damn.’
The statement was abrupt and rude, and so out of keeping with his usual easygoing manner, Jessie felt instantly contrite. Somehow she’d insulted him.
‘I’m sorry.’ She touched his arm. ‘I only asked because I love art and I’m absolutely useless at it myself.’
He glanced down at her fingers, gave a stiff jerk of his shoulders. ‘No harm done.’
‘Here you go, folks, two short stacks straight up.’ The teenager beamed at Monroe as she placed the pancakes and mugs of coffee in front of them.
‘This looks great, Shelby.’ He smiled at the girl, reading the name off the blue tag on her uniform. Jessie watched the waitress flush again before she rushed off.
‘What sort of things do you paint?’ Jessie asked quietly as Monroe concentrated on drowning his plate in syrup.
He didn’t reply. She waited as he swallowed a generous helping of pancakes and syrup. He nodded towards her plate. ‘You not hungry?’
‘I was just wondering about what you paint,’ she repeated, feeling a little foolish now but determined to get an answer out of him.
‘I haven’t done any yet.’
‘Yes, but, when you have, what will you paint?’
‘They don’t taste as good cold, you know,’ he said, looking at her plate again.
Jessie remained silent. He wasn’t meeting her eyes. Why was he being so evasive? But as she watched him take a sip from his coffee it occurred to her. He was shy about his artwork. It seemed so unlikely, but it was the only answer that made sense. The thought made him seem vulnerable, all of a sudden, maybe even a little bit sweet.
She waited. Finally, he stopped eating, turned to her. ‘Look, it’s no big deal, all right? It’s just a dumb hobby.’
‘I’m still curious what sort of painting you do. I mean, is it abstract, expressionism, more traditional like portraiture, landscapes? I’m really interested in art. Looking at it, appreciating it, visiting art galleries—those are a few of my dumb hobbies.’
He let out a breath, put down his fork. He was shy. He looked almost as uncomfortable now as when Ali had identified him at the pool the day before.
‘It’s mostly people, landscapes, any stuff that catches my eye and I want to put it on canvas. But you won’t see any of it in an art gallery, that’s for sure.’ He eyed her plate again. ‘If you don’t want them, I’ll eat them.’
‘Okay, okay, I’ll eat them.’ Jessie picked up the maple syrup and swirled it over her stack, feeling ridiculously pleased that she’d managed to get him to talk about his artwork. After finishing a mouthful, she smiled at him, her mouth sticky. ‘Mmm, these are delicious.’
Licking her lips, she caught the quick flick of his eyes down to her mouth. Her belly tightened. Okay, so maybe sweet wasn’t quite the right word for him.
Having insisted on paying for their pancakes and leaving what Jessie thought was an excessive tip for the smitten Shelby, Monroe guided her out of the coffee shop.
Given that he lived on a shoestring and had very few possessions, she thought it odd that he was so generous with his money. She began to feel a little ashamed about what she’d said to Ali yesterday. He might be poor, but he was no deadbeat.
She had watched his hands while they ate. Long, thin fingers and wide palms—they were really beautiful. He had an artist’s hands. She wondered again about what sort of things he painted. He’d neatly steered the conversation away from his artwork after she’d started eating and she’d let him, even though the subject intrigued her enormously. Not just because she loved art, but because his unwillingness to speak about it had made him seem a lot less cocksure and confident.
She could feel the pressure on the small of her back from his palm as he steered her out of the diner. She couldn’t ignore the warmth in her middle at the contact. He still made her nervous. Men as good-looking as he was would always make her feel a little inadequate. Then there was that aura of wildness and danger about him that was unlike anyone she had ever known before. But she had to admit that he was starting to fascinate her.
They walked across the street in silence, but as they reached the bike Jessie remembered her bare legs. ‘Would you mind waiting a minute while I go and put my jeans back on?’
He glanced at her legs. ‘Sure. Seems like a shame, though.’
She was busy quelling the little flutter of excitement at his words when she spotted a familiar face coming out of the grocery store. ‘Oh, no.’
Monroe gave her a quizzical look as he opened the saddlebags on the back of the Harley. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘It’s Bradley Dexter. I don’t want him to spot me,’ Jessie whispered as she ducked behind Monroe.
Bradley Dexter III was the son of Linc and Ali’s nearest neighbour. Pampered and idle, he thought his red sports car was an extension of his personality and had turned out to be as persistent as a woodworm after Jessie had met him on the beach a few weeks before. She might be hard up, but she was not that hard up.
Jessie realised she was too late to avoid another annoying encounter, though, when the well-muscled young man in the surfer’s standard uniform of board shorts and vest-top walked up to them. ‘Hiya, Jessie. How’ya doing?’
Monroe heard the sigh from behind him before Jessie appeared at his side.
‘Hello, Bradley.’
‘We’ve got a beach party going tonight at the Sunspot. You wanna come along?’ The guy’s eyes dipped down Jessie’s frame in a way Monroe didn’t like one bit. ‘You could wear that bitching little bikini I saw you in last week.’
Monroe thought he could hear Jessie’s teeth grinding together. ‘That’s nice of you, Bradley, but I think I’m busy.’ She touched Monroe’s arm. ‘This is Monroe, by the way. Monroe Latimer—he’s Linc’s brother.’
Bradley gave Monroe an absent glance. ‘Sure, nice to meet you, dude. I guess you could come, too. But I get first dibs on the babe here.’ He winked at Jessie, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. Seeing Jessie blush and stiffen, Monroe felt his anger rise.
He put a firm hand on Jessie’s hip and pulled her to his side. Ignoring her quick intake of breath, he gave Bradley a sharp stare.
‘I don’t think so, dude.’ He had the surfer’s attention now. ‘I don’t share.’
Bradley stepped back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘Sure, man, no problem.’ He gave Jessie a nervous wave, his gaze fixed on Monroe. ‘See ya ’round, Jess,’he said and scurried off.
‘What was that about?’ Jessie shrugged off Monroe’s arm.
‘I was getting rid of Bradley the wolf for you.’
‘I don’t need your protection, thank you.’
Miserably embarrassed, Jessie stepped past Monroe but was pulled up short when he put his hands on her hips, tugged her into his arms. ‘He’s looking back,’ he whispered in her ear as he nuzzled her neck. Shock waves shot through her whole system. ‘Let’s show him we mean business.’
‘What?’
Jessie had no chance to react. No chance to register his intent. Strong fingers combed through her hair, angled her head slightly and then his lips were on hers. The move was so smooth, so fluid, Jessie could only gasp before his mouth covered hers.
The contact was electric. His mouth was firm and commanding on hers, his tongue exploring and then retreating in a clever rhythm that robbed her of thought. He kept one hand on her head, anchoring her to him, while the other swept down, moulding her curves before settling firmly on her bottom and pulling her even closer.
The rough feel of his jeans against her legs, the strong, solid feel of his chest against her breasts were so unyielding she felt as if she were being smothered. Her response though was unstoppable. Her mouth opened wider as her tongue tangled with his. He lifted his head for a moment and her breath gushed out, but then his lips were back on hers again. His teeth bit into her bottom lip. She began to pant, feeling dazed, delirious.
Then, suddenly, it was over.
‘There.’ His voice sounded dim because of the blood pounding in her ears. ‘That ought to convince him.’
Jessie blinked up at him, her face flooding with heat as she registered the words through the fog of arousal. It was as if she’d been doused with ice water. She shoved him, her arms still shaking from need. ‘You bastard.’
He held onto her arm. ‘What’s wrong, Red?’
She was so angry she could have spat at him. He was smiling at her, as if it had all been a game. The terrible tug of need and desire still throbbing in her belly only made her feel more humiliated. ‘You had no right…’ Her voice shook. ‘You had no right to do that.’
Monroe could see the sheen of moisture in her eyes and hated himself for it. He wanted to taste her again. God, he wanted to strip her naked and bury himself inside her. Her response to the simple kiss had been electrifying. He was hard as a rock and throbbing painfully in his jeans. It was a major struggle to keep the carefree smile on his face. ‘I was just trying to help you out with Bradley. What’s the big deal?’
It was a lie. He’d wanted to kiss her ever since he’d laid eyes on her. That he’d been unable to resist her wasn’t something he wanted to admit, though, even to himself.
‘I didn’t ask for your help.’ Jessie’s words came out on a broken sob. Desperate not to let him see her break, she struggled out of his grasp.
‘No harm done. It was just a little kiss.’
He made it sound like nothing at all. It would only make her seem like an idiot if she let him see how much more it had meant to her. Biting her lip to keep the tears back, Jessie gripped the strap of her bag with unsteady fingers. She had to get away from him.
He tucked a finger under her chin, his eyes clouded with concern. ‘Hey, I’m sorry.’
Was that pity in his eyes? Jessie pushed his hand away, forced her eyes to go flat and remote. ‘It’s okay, Monroe.’ She’d made enough of a spectacle of herself already. ‘Like you said, it was nothing.’ She whirled away from him.
As Jessie walked towards the public restrooms she kept her head high, her back ramrod straight, but couldn’t stop the silent tears of humiliation rolling down her cheeks.
The journey back to the house was agony for both of them.
As Jessie clung onto the back of the bike, refusing to hold onto Monroe, she felt none of the thrill from the earlier journey into town.
All she could think about was the kiss they’d shared. It had been like no other kiss she’d ever had before. She’d made love before with less excitement.
Why had she responded to him like that?
It was mortifying and, what was worse, it had meant less than nothing to him. ‘What’s the big deal?’ —that was what he’d said. He must have kissed loads of women before her and she hadn’t measured up very well. He hadn’t even insisted that she hold onto him on the ride back as he’d done on the way there. She felt angry with him and humiliated, but worse, much worse, was the feeling of rejection that she couldn’t seem to shake no matter how hard she tried. Why should she care what a womanising ex-con thought of her? But the problem was she did care.
Monroe wanted to kick himself for his stupidity. Why the hell had he kissed her? Now he knew what she tasted like, what she felt like in his arms, he was going to have a hell of a time keeping his hands off her.
