The Rebel Doc Who Stole Her Heart

“Don’t you ever just want to have a good time?”

“I don’t have time for a good time.” She clicked the fob to unlock her car then opened the door.

“Hey, you never said what you like about me.”

She slipped under the wheel. “Goodnight, Ty.” And closed the door.

Looking into the rear-view window, she saw him saunter over to where a motorcycle was parked. He had a loose-hipped walk that belied his size. Letting him get into her head wasn’t a good idea.

She stuck her key into the ignition and turned it. A clicking noise was all that happened. She tried it again. The engine refused to start.

The zoom of a motorcycle being turned off made her look into the mirror. Ty was getting off his bike and putting the kickstand down. She opened the car door. “The battery is dead.”

He stepped closer. “You’ve had trouble with it before?”

“Yeah. It was a little slow to start when I headed here. I was going to have it seen to tomorrow.”

“Well, it looks like you’re going to need a ride home.”

She searched for her phone. “I’ll call a taxi.”

“I’ll give you a lift.”

“I don’t think so. I’ll just wait here for a taxi.”

“Be realistic, Michelle. How long do you think it will take for a taxi to show up at this hour? And you’re sure as heck not going to sit in a dark parking lot and wait.”

“I can go inside.”

“Come on. Let me give you a drive home. I’ll ride slowly. No fancy moves.”

Still unsure, she was exhausted and the thought of having to wait another hour or longer to head home wasn’t appealing. She grabbed her purse as she climbed out of the car. “Okay, but no nonsense. I saw one too many motorcycle victims when I was doing my ER rotation.”

“I promise, only one wheelie.”

“What?” She stepped back, planning to refuse to get on.

“Kidding. Just kidding.”

Ty was pleased he hadn’t had to do a more convincing job of selling Michelle on the idea of riding on his bike. Most women he’d known had seemed to be fascinated by the prospect. It was part of his mystique. For him, it was cheap and easy transportation. Apparently Michelle wasn’t impressed one way or another with his air of mystery. For some reason he wished she was, but was glad she wasn’t. He never dipped below the surface of his emotions and he didn’t want anyone else to do it either.

He unlocked the seat compartment, pulled out a spare helmet and offered it to her. His hand remained suspended in mid-air for a moment before she took it. She made no further movement.

“You do know that you have to put it on to ride? It’s the law.”

She look around as if there might be a state trooper watching.

He shoved his hair back, preparing to slip on his own helmet. Michelle remained rooted to the spot as if she couldn’t make up her mind whether or not this was a good idea. “Are you coming or not?” Again she scanned the parking lot like she was hoping for any other option. Taking a deep breath, she put the helmet on her head. It wouldn’t go into place because of her hair.

“Here, let me help you.” He lifted the helmet off her head and reached around to release her hair. He could feel her breath on his neck.

She bent her torso away from him. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to get your head into this helmet. Your hair is stopping it from going on.”

“Oh.”

“What did you think I was doing? Making a play for you?”

“No.”

“Yes, you did.” He looked her straight in the eyes, wishing the streetlights were brighter. “If and when I make a play for you, you won’t need to question what I’m doing. It will be perfectly clear.” With great satisfaction he watched her throat bob up and down. “Now I’m tired and I’m hungry. If you would like me to take you home you’re going to have to let me help you with the helmet. Of course, I can also escort you to the lobby so you can wait for a taxi there. Either way, I’d like to get a move on.”

She pulled the rubber band out of her hair and plopped the helmet down on her head.

So the ice queen responded to authority.

“I’m going to fix the chin strap now,” he said in an exaggerated voice, as if speaking to a child.

“Stop making fun of me. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”

She gave him such a pointed look of defiance that he wanted to take off the helmet and kiss her.

“I’m still not sure you’re the one I want to take my first ride with.”

He chuckled as he picked up his helmet from the handlebars. “I promise it will be a ride to remember.” After slipping on his helmet, he said, “Hand me your purse. I’ll put it under the seat.”

Michelle did so, after only a moment of hesitation. Storing the purse and closing the seat, he then threw a leg over the bike, pushed the kickstand up and revved the engine. The bike roared to life. He looked back over his shoulder. “By the definition of ride, you have to get on first.”

She lifted a leg over the seat. He had the sense that she was making every effort not to touch him. When she tottered, a hand gripped his shoulder then was gone, only to return just as quickly. He’d watched those long, delicate fingers do meticulous surgery. Now he felt their strength. What would it be like to have her want to touch him all over?

She pulled her hands away again as she settled on the bike.

“You need to move up close and hang on or you’ll fall off the back.”

Michelle shifted closer but acted as if she was making sure her legs didn’t touch his. She held a fistful of shirt in each hand, instead of wrapping her hands around his waist.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

“Okay. Here we go.” He clicked the bike into gear, let off the hand clutch and the bike moved across the lot. Less than five seconds later Michelle’s arms had his waist in a death grip. Her thighs squeezed his where they met, and her face and chest were plastered to his back.

His manhood rose in response. He sucked in a breath. This had been such a bad idea on so many levels. The woman was terrified and he was turned on.

He took his hand off the handlebars long enough to pat her knee. “You’re doing great.”

As he turned right out of the parking lot, he realized he had no idea where she lived. He’d spent so much time trying to convince her to get on the bike that he’d forgotten to ask for directions. “Which way is your house?” he called over his shoulder.