A Mother's Wish: Wanted: Perfect Partner / Father's Day

He advanced a step toward her. “It’s mine.”

“Yours?” He was exactly the kind of man her mother had warned her about, and here she was flirting with danger. He moved a step closer and she held herself rigid.

“You don’t know much about men, do you?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“I was married for nearly six years,” she informed him primly. He was close now, too close. She kept her spine stiff and her eyes straight ahead. If the motorcycle was his, it was reasonable to assume the leather jacket belonged to him as well. The persona he’d taken on, the criminal element, might not be too far from the truth.

“You haven’t been with a man since, have you?”

She felt his breath against her flushed face. “I refuse to answer questions of a personal nature,” she returned, her voice hoarse and low.

“You haven’t,” he said confidently. “Look at me, Meg.”

“No. Let’s get this ride over with.”

“Look at me,” he repeated.

She tried to resist, but the words were warm and hypnotic. Against her better judgment, she twisted toward him. “Yes?” she asked, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might leap right through her chest.

He wove his hands into her hair and tilted her head back so that she couldn’t avoid staring up at him. His gaze bored relentlessly into hers.

“Admit it,” he whispered. “You enjoyed the kiss.” His eyes were compelling, she admitted reluctantly, resisting him every step.

“How like a man—everything’s about ego,” she said in an effort to make light of what had happened. “Even a silly little kiss.”

Steve frowned.

There was a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach, the same feeling that had attacked her when he’d kissed her by the staircase. She felt vulnerable and helpless.

“It wasn’t little and it wasn’t silly. But it was what we both wanted,” he said in a deceptively normal voice.

“You’re crazy,” she murmured, hurrying to assure him that he’d been wrong. Very wrong. She lowered her eyes, but this proved to be a tactical error. Before she realized what he intended, he was kissing her again.

Meg wanted to protest. If she’d fought him, struggled, he might have released her. But her one weak objection came in the form of a moan, and it appeared to encourage rather than dissuade him.

All at once it was important to get closer. A moment later she was kneeling on the leather cushion and Steve had slipped his arms around her middle. They didn’t stay there long. He glided his hands along her back, urging her more tightly against him.

Meg didn’t require much inducement. Her body willfully molded itself to his. Then, abruptly, her eyes fluttered open and with a determined effort she broke free. Steve’s arms tightened before he relaxed and finally released her.

The look on his face was one of shock.

For her own part, Meg was having a difficult time breathing. Sensations swarmed through her. Unwanted sensations. Steve made her feel as if she’d never been kissed before, never been held or loved. Never been married or shared intimacies with a man.

She blinked, and Steve backed away. He frowned and raked his fingers through his hair, apparently sorting out his own troubled emotions.

“I suppose you expect me to admit I enjoyed that,” she said with more than a hint of belligerence. These feelings frightened her. The fact that she’d reacted to him could easily be explained. Good grief, she was a normal woman—but this giddy, end-of-the-world sensation wasn’t anything she’d ever experienced.

“You don’t have to admit to a damned thing,” he said. He climbed onto the Hog and revved the engine aggressively.

“Stop,” she cried, shouting above the noise. She waved a hand to clear away the exhaust.

“What’s wrong now?” he snapped, twisting around to look at her.

“Nothing …. Just go slow, all right?”

Separated by only a couple of inches, Meg felt him tense. “I’m not exactly in a slow mood.”

“I guessed as much.”

She didn’t know what he intended as he expertly maneuvered the motorcycle out of her driveway. Mortified, Meg glanced up and down the street, wondering how many of her neighbors had witnessed the exchange between her and Steve. Fortunately Lindsey wasn’t at the front window watching as Meg had half feared.

“Hang on,” he shouted.

She placed her hands lightly on either side of his waist, hoping to keep the contact as impersonal as possible—until they turned the first corner. From that moment on, she wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could.

Meg was grateful that he chose not to drive far. He stopped at a park less than a mile from her house. After he’d eased into a parking space, he switched off the engine and sat motionless for a couple of minutes.

“You okay?” he asked after a while.

“I’m fine. Great. That was … fun.” She was astonished at her new talent for telling white lies. She was far from fine. Her insides were a mess, although that had almost nothing to do with the motorcycle ride. Her heart refused to settle down to a normal pace, and she couldn’t stop thinking about their kisses. The first time had been traumatic, but it didn’t compare to her nearly suffocating reaction to his second kiss.

Steve checked his watch. “We’ll give it another five minutes and then I’ll take you back to the house. That should give Lindsey enough time to worry about you without sending her into a panic.”

“Perfect,” she said brightly—a little too brightly.

“Then tomorrow afternoon I’ll pick you up after work and you can do your thing with my sister.”

Although he couldn’t see her, she nodded. Meg only hoped her act for Nancy would be as convincing as Steve’s had been with Lindsey.

“After that, we won’t need to see each other again,” Steve said. “As far as I’m concerned, it isn’t a minute too soon.”

Meg felt much the same way. She was just as eager to get him out of her life.

Wasn’t she?

It hadn’t been a good day. Steve would’ve liked to blame his foul mood on work-related problems, but everything at Emerald City Body Shop had run like clockwork. The one reason that presented itself was Meg Remington.

He’d known from the first night that getting involved with her would mean trouble. Sure enough, he was waist-deep in quicksand, and all because he hadn’t wanted to hurt the woman’s feelings.

Okay, that accounted for their dinner date, but afterward … what happened was no one’s fault except his own. Donning his leather jacket and jeans and playing the role of the disgruntled ex-con had been fun. But then he had to go and do something stupid.

The stupid part was because of the kiss. He’d been a fool to force Meg to admit how good it had been. This was what he got for allowing his pride to stand in the way.

Well, Steve had learned his lesson. The next time he was tempted to kiss Meg, he’d go stand in the middle of the freeway. Man, oh man, she could kiss. Only she didn’t seem to realize it. Much more of that kissing and he would’ve been renting a hotel room.

Not Meg, though. Oh, no. She acted as outraged as a nun. Apparently she’d forgotten that men and women did that sort of thing. Enjoyed it, too. Looked forward to doing it again.

The woman was insane, and the sooner he could extract her from his life, the better. He didn’t need this. Who did?