She laughed. “Believe it or not, it’s a good business. You know what, give me a few minutes—I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  He watched her go inside, appreciating the view, yet thinking that he should give her an hour, the whole afternoon, her entire life even.

  He never should’ve stayed, especially when he hadn’t been able to control his emotions from the moment he set eyes on her an hour ago. Her long expanse of smooth, bare leg and that leather top had incinerated all his good intentions to take his suit and leave. When she’d mentioned changing into a pair of jeans, he’d been relieved and disappointed at the same time.

  Yet it wasn’t only about his intense physical reactions. Something about her drew him, an invisible thread that seemed to wind tighter with every moment he spent in her presence. He was drawn to her in a way that was completely foreign. He’d told her about his mom and dad less than twenty-four hours after meeting her, and he never talked about them to anyone. What was so different about Tara that he’d opened up to her?

  As much as he tried to tell himself she didn’t fit his plan, he was having a hell of a time fighting his attraction to her. A wry smile lifted his lips. Who was he trying to kid? He wasn’t fighting anything—not very hard, at least. He pretty much forgot the plan around Tara.

  Exactly the reason he should stay away from her. Take his suit and leave.

  Sugar nudged his hand. When he looked down, she dropped a tennis ball at his feet, backed up, and barked. Wes bent to pick it up and motioned outside. “All right, let’s go.”

  Even the dog was beginning to grow on him.

  They were out on the front lawn when the sound of a motorcycle reached Wes’s ears from down the block. Sugar switched from running after Wes’s last throw to make a beeline for the road. Afraid she wouldn’t stop at the sidewalk, Wes called, “Sugar, get the ball!”

  She spun toward Wes, then the road.

  “Get the ball, girl.”

  The Gread Dane tore after the ball, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Once she had it though, she started back for the road.

  “Bring it here,” Wes called. “Come on, Sugar…good girl.”

  Wes smiled as she bounded back and forth, clearly torn between the approaching motorcycle and his praise. He bent down, patting his knees until finally, she raced to him and he could catch her collar as she dropped the ball. She almost pulled him off his feet when the bike slowed its approach to Tara’s house.

  Wes braced himself as the dog went wild—whining, pulling, turning to lick him, then straining harder against his grip. He didn’t let go until the motorcycle stopped in the driveway and the rider removed his helmet, not that there was any doubt in his mind who it was.

  Charlie swung a leg over the bike to greet his dog, then strutted toward Wes. Instinctively, Wes straightened and met the guy’s gaze dead on. Tara’s brother didn’t scare him, but judging by the look on his face, Wes needed to be prepared.

  “Clearly, you didn’t get the message last night,” Charlie ground out.

  “Tara’s old enough to make up her own mind.”

  “Tara’s got no clue when it comes to guys like—”

  The front screen door banged open. “Charles!”

  Charlie’s attention jerked toward Tara’s furious voice, and he took a step back as she advanced off the porch. Wes looked too, noting in a quick sweep that she’d kept the mind-boggling leather top but added a pair of jeans and some black biker boots. Between the leather, her tattoos, now braided hair and murder flashing in her eyes, she was something to behold. When she stepped between the two of them and faced her brother, Wes actually felt sorry for the guy.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. Her calm tone shocked Wes, and Charlie, too, if his expression were any indication. “Wes and I were just about to go for a ride. You can take Sugar home with you, now.”

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going anywhere with him.”

  “It’s none of your business, Charlie.”

  She glared at her brother, and Wes noticed Charlie’s gaze flick to the side, then back to his sister. She turned to Wes. “Ready to go?”

  Her brown eyes beseeched him to back her up, so he nodded. “Whenever you are.”

  “Tara, didn’t you hear Dad this morning?” Charlie asked.

  Tara whipped around so fast her long braid thumped against Wes’s chest.

  “Oh, I heard him,” she snapped. “Every ridiculous, outdated, overbearing word that wouldn’t have even made sense ten years ago.” She pushed past him toward the garage. Wes started to follow, but Charlie sidestepped and blocked his path.

  “Charlie,” Tara called, “you might want to get Sugar off the road.”

  Charlie’s head swiveled around. He cursed under his breath at the sight of Sugar in the middle of the street and pointed a finger at Wes as he backed away. “I’m warning you, don’t go with her.”

  “There’s a car coming.”

  A string of expletives poured from Charlie’s mouth as he took off toward the street. Wes made out something about dogs and sisters before Tara’s Harley roared to life and she met him in the driveway. She shoved a helmet into his chest with one hand and revved the engine with the other.

  “What exactly did your dad say?” Wes asked as he pulled the helmet on.

  Tara pointed to her own protective headgear and shook her head. He sighed, buckled the chinstrap, and swung a leg over the bike behind her while putting a restraining hand over hers on the throttle. What was he getting himself into?

  Pressing his chest against her back, he leaned as close as their two helmets allowed and shouted, “What did your dad say?”

  She laughed and turned her head slightly. “He forbade me to see you again. Now, hang on.”

  She revved the gas again, only this time the bike jerked forward and Wes made a frantic grab for her hips as they shot out of the driveway. He caught a brief glimpse of Charlie’s furious expression before they thundered past him and Sugar and headed out of town.

  Well, if his plan had included making an enemy in his new hometown, looked like he was right on track.

  As they wound through the countryside, Wes found himself exhilarated and nervous at the same time. Though Tara handled the Harley with ease, and the new shocks provided a smooth ride, she drove a little too fast for his comfort. On one particular sharp curve, he leaned to the inside with her but couldn’t keep his grip from tightening on her waist as the ground sped by at an alarming rate.

  As soon as they rounded the turn, she slowed the bike and called back over her shoulder, “Sorry.”

  Conversation was hard even at the slower speed, but Wes’s mind spun about a hundred miles an hour. Her father had outright ordered her not to see him again, and yet here they were, touring Wisconsin farm fields. Was that what this was all about? Defying her father? He felt a prick of disappointment, but pushed it away.

  After another ten minutes, Tara turned the bike around and headed back toward town. Wes straightened in surprise when she braked to a sudden stop. Turning her head so he’d hear her, she pointed to the sky. “Looks like we might get a little wet.”

  Dark clouds were but a few minutes from blocking out the early afternoon sunlight, and in the distance, lightning streaked toward the ground every couple seconds. Very faintly, over the noise of the Harley, Wes heard the muted rumble of thunder.

  “Where in the world did that come from?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “The forecast on Wednesday didn’t call for rain today.”

  He stared at the side of her helmet in disbelief. “It’s Sunday.”

  She turned her head farther, and he saw creases by her eyes, indicating a smile. “Yeah…things may have changed since then.”

  “Ya think?”

  A louder, more ominous rumble of thunder underscored his sarcasm. Tara laughed as though she hadn’t a care in the world, and at that moment, Wes figured getting wet was worth it. Still, he couldn’t help laying on a little guilt for her sass.

  “I’m running out of clothes, you know.”

  She revved the gas, giving him a three second warning before they took off toward the heart of the storm. Getting a little wet was one thing, but Wes wasn’t prepared for the downpour that drenched them and forced Tara to slow the bike substantially. A fierce wind drove the rain sideways, making the raindrops feel like needles pricking his bare arms. He would’ve offered to drive to shield Tara from the wind, but she had far more experience than him.

  Not that it mattered anyway since the wind kept shifting and the cold rain came at them from a new direction every few minutes. Finally, he slid his body tight up against her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stiffened at first, but as heat built between his chest and her back, his arms and her stomach, she relaxed into him. Wes enjoyed the remainder of the ride back to town, watching the awesome fury of the storm as it ravaged the earth around them.

  She was on the main road that led past his hotel when a bolt of lightning appeared to strike a transformer half a block ahead of them. Sparks rained down, and after a reflexive jerk, Tara regained control and brought the bike to a stop. With his heart thumping, Wes reached around her shoulder to point toward the Rykers Inn. She nodded, so he held up his fingers to indicate room twenty-one. She parked in front of the door and cut the engine.

  When she slid off the bike, cool air rushed in against his chest, raising goose bumps on his arms. She removed her helmet and started toward the door before he even swung his leg over the seat. He hurried through the rain after her, undoing his chinstrap as he caught up at the motel overhang. Wes tucked the helmet under his arm to fish out his key card. He happened to catch her eye, but then she glanced away.

  “Seemed like a good idea to get off the road,” he explained to ease her apparent unease while waiting for the light to blink green.

  “Yeah, it stopped being fun about fifteen minutes and ten degrees ago.”

  Her teeth chattered as he held open the door and waited for her to enter first. Wes closed the door and turned, trying to put the thought that they were in his motel room out of his mind. She stood next to the king sized bed, rubbing her arms and looking miserable. Feeling like a jerk, Wes gathered his wits and quickly grabbed a couple towels from the bathroom. He played it safe by tossing one to her instead of walking close to hand it her.

  “Thank you.” She wiped her face, down her slender neck, and started toweling her arms.

  He focused his attention outside and ran his own towel over his wet neck. “It’s not letting up out there, is it?”

  “I should’ve checked the weather,” she said, walking to the window.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just wait out the storm here for awhile.”

  She faced him as another flash of lightening lit the sky behind her. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  The shiver that shook her slim shoulders reminded him that despite the towels, they were both soaked to the skin. He reached into the small closet to pull out a dry shirt before digging through his suitcase for a pair of sweats for her. “If you want to change first, there’s a laundry room where I can throw our things in a dryer.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  She accepted the clothes he held out and started to walk past. In the process of turning back to get dry clothes for himself, Wes did a double take and reached out to catch Tara’s arm.

  “What the heck is this?”

  Chapter 9

  Tara followed Wes’s surprised gaze to her arm and saw the rain and scrubbing she’d done with the towel had worn half her barbed wire tattoo away. Darn it, so much for her tough exterior. Heat flooded her cheeks and she gave him a sheepish grin.

  “They’re airbrushed.”

  “All of them? You mean none of them are real?” He sounded chagrined.

  Tara hesitated before confessing, “Well, one is.”

  “Yeah, right.” He took hold of her other arm and turned her, scrutinizing first the snake and sword, then the rose on her neck. Her skin tingled as his gaze swept over her body. He lifted her arm and rubbed his index finger across the small shooting star on the inside of her wrist.

  “Which one?”

  Nerves tickled her stomach and shook her laugh. “Sorry, Wes, but I don’t know you well enough to show you that one.”

  Yet, she added silently.

  His gaze jerked up to hers. Heat flared in those blue depths even as he lifted his hands and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Yeah, I know.” She gave him a playful tap on the shoulder and backed toward the bathroom with her pulse racing. “Lighten up, man.”

  After closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment. Stupid rain. Then she remembered how wonderful Wes’s arms had felt around her on the bike, and she took it back. And what was she doing standing here freezing when she had his warm, dry clothes to change into? Peeling off her leather top, she considered tossing it in the garbage. One, her image was hopelessly ruined, and two, she never wanted to wear it again after the past hour of uncomfortable clamminess.

  Then she realized the zippered leather halter top couldn’t go in the dryer and she’d have to put it back on later. Wet. She cringed and shivered at the unappealing thought while removing her black lace bra so she could slip into Wes’s shirt. The soft cotton against her chilled skin urged her to get the rest of the wet stuff off and pull his sweat pants on. A look in the mirror made her groan, but it wasn’t like she had any other choice—and they were so nice and warm.

  Resigned, she laid her leather top across the edge of the bathtub, gathered her wet clothes, and stepped back into the hotel room. “It’s all yours—”

  Wes turned, pulling a dry tee shirt down over his muscular stomach as he faced her. His gaze swept over her from top to bottom, making her feel even more self-conscious. Then he grinned while scooping up his wet things from the floor.

  “They look a little big.”

  “Just a little,” she said dryly.

  “Let me run these to the dryer down the hall.” He held out a hand for her things. “And then, what do you say to a pizza? My treat.”

  The mention of food made her mouth water and took her mind off handing Wes her bra and underwear rolled inside her jeans. “Nino’s is the best in town and they deliver.”

  “You want to call? Anything but anchovies, please.” He started to close the door, but stuck his head back in. “And no pineapple.”

  “Sausage, mushroom and black olives?” No onions, just in case.

  “Add pepperoni to half and we’re good.”

  Tara called in the order, then stared at the phone a few seconds before picking it up to dial again. She prayed for the answering machine. Or anyone but—

  “Hello?” her dad answered.

  Her heart lodged in her throat, then abruptly dropped into her stomach when she heard the hotel room door open behind her. She looked over at Wes as she said, “It’s me, Dad, I just wanted to let you know—”

  “Where the hell are you? Charlie said—”

  Tara pulled the receiver away from her ringing ear. Wes’s brows rose, telling her he’d heard, too. She sat with her hand in her lap, waiting until silence fell on the other end. Wes frowned and started toward her, but she shook her head and lifted the phone.

  “Dad? Are you willing to lis—”

  “Are you with him?” her dad thundered.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Where are you?”

  Wes’s hotel room. That’d go over real well.

  “Tara Russell, I want you home in…”

  Tara lowered the phone again and waited. Wes’s brows rose, but she just shook her head again.

  “Tara? Honey, are you still there?” Her mother’s faint voice reached her ears and she sighed with relief while raising the phone.

  “I’m here, Mom.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Tara answered. Wes turned the TV on low and sat on the bed as he started flipping channels.

  “That’s why I called,” Tara continued. “You know, in case you or dad were worried we got caught in the storm.” She didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm.

  “Your father is worried about you,” her mom insisted. “So am I.”

  “He didn’t even ask if I was okay, he just started yelling. What he needs to worry about is if I’ll ever talk to him again!”

  “Tara.”

  “I’m serious, Mom, I’m done. I can’t even live my life anymore.”

  “Honey, listen, you don’t really know this guy. We just want you to be careful.”

  Tara turned toward the window where the storm outside matched her emotions. When her mom put it that way, she understood where they were coming from, and she respected their concerns. But why couldn’t her dad understand he had to trust in the person he’d raised her to be? If she was done, she had to go all the way, no matter how hard it was to say the words hesitating on her tongue.

  “I’ve been more than careful for the past thirteen years, Mom.” Deep breath. “I’m not Annabel. I wasn’t like her then; I’m not like her now.”

  She heard her mother’s soft intake of breath on the other end of the line. Tara swallowed hard, but waited in silence until her mother spoke again.

  “Oh, Tara, I know that, honey.”

  “Well, so should Dad.” She squared her shoulders and said, “Tell him until he’s ready to apologize and treat me like an adult, I have nothing to say to him.”

  She replaced the receiver with deliberate care, aware that the TV now remained on one channel. Taking a deep, silent breath, she faced Wes, wondering what he’d say. He’d scooted back on one side of the bed, his legs stretched comfortably in front of him, his back against the headboard. His gaze didn’t stray from the screen as he reached out a hand to pat the opposite side of the bed, indicating she take a seat.

  “How long before the pizza gets here?”

  Tara eased onto the bed. “Ten, fifteen minutes.”

  He offered her the remote, but she shook her head, and he left it on the Discovery Channel. Not that she paid attention to the actual program. Between being intensely aware of him a mere three feet away, and wondering what would happen when she went home, she was lucky to recognize there were seals on the screen.

 

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