Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) (16 page)

“He should have.” The color of
Max’s dark eyes deepened. “You’re incredible, you know. You should be with someone
who appreciates you.”

She covered her ears with her
hands. “Don’t say anything more about him.”

“Sorry. You’re right. It’s not my
place to talk about the things your husband did or didn’t do for you.” Max
cupped her cheeks in his palms, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. “But don’t
waste any more of your life limited by someone else’s boundaries, okay?”

He looked so serious, so adorable
with his gaze locked on hers. He’d opened doors to sensual thresholds she’d
only read about. Drawn to him on emotional levels he wouldn’t welcome, she
opened her mouth to express feelings he wouldn’t want to hear. As if reading
her mind, he touched his fingers to her lips and shook his head.

She swallowed and formed the most
difficult words of the night. Words that just might be necessary to her
self-preservation. “Maybe you should go.”

“Go?” His eyebrows shot up. “No
way, lady. I promised you all night, and you promised me an omelet.”

An omelet. That put things into
perspective.

If he could be nonchalant, so could
she.

Even if it killed her.

Relieved to escape
getting the boot, Max peered out of the blinds in Annabel’s bedroom. The limo
remained in the driveway. While he and Annabel had screwed one another upside
down and sideways, the persistent drizzle had escalated into an all-out storm,
complete with window-rattling thunder and lightning.

Annabel slipped into some purple
shorts and a silky top that were too revealing to be anything other than
underwear, but way too delicious to be covered up by regular clothes. With an
intimate smile, she took his hand and led him downstairs.

“Do you know who makes the best
Denver omelet in Cincinnati?” They arrived for his first visit to her kitchen.
Nice, efficient, tidy. Just as he expected, the counters gleamed. Not even a
dirty fork lurked in the sink. He’d see about changing that.

“Duffy’s on the River?”

“No, Ms. Smarty Pants.” He slipped
his fingers into the waist of her little shorts and snapped the elastic. “I
do.”

“Oh, really? Then wash your hands
and get to work.” She retrieved an armload of ingredients from the
refrigerator, laying them out precisely on the counter. “I’ll make the bacon
and toast.”

“And coffee. We have to have
coffee.”

Pointing to the kettle, she
wrinkled her nose. “Not tea?”

He scoffed. “Tea’s for wimps. If
we’re going to stay busy all night, we need high-octane caffeine.”

“Good point.” She reached into the
pantry for K-cups.

Her skimpy top rode up her back,
exposing a flash of smooth skin. He gravitated forward to wrap his arms around
her waist. She deftly avoided him and shoved the chopping board and a knife
into his hands.

He attacked a green pepper with his
usual fervor. He didn’t cook often, but when he did, he put a lot of energy
into it. After several strips of green pepper sailed across the chopping block
and onto the floor, Annabel crossed her arms and pretended to glare at him.

“What?” He tossed an onion over his
shoulder and caught it behind his back. “You’ve never seen anyone cook before?”

“Not with such abandon.” She shoved
a bowl his way. “Here. You break the eggs. I’ll finish chopping. It worries me
to see you wielding a sharp object.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she
proceeded to lay strips of peppers side by side and cut them into uniform squares.
Next, he figured she’d measure them with a slide rule.

Planning to wow her with his
proudest kitchen accomplishment, he picked up an egg in each hand, tapped both
against the side of the bowl, and then cracked them open at the same time. The
egg-innards slid into the bowl. He deftly pitched the shells into the trash
with a basketball hook shot. He looked up to see if she’d caught his
grandstanding.

She had. Pushing him aside, she
chased a minuscule shell fragment around the bowl with a spoon. “I see you like
your omelets crunchy.”

“You don’t worry about a few
eggshells, do you?” He trapped the speck beneath a fingertip and flicked it
aside. “A little roughage is good for you.”

“Uh huh.” She pursed her lips
together, obviously trying to keep herself from either scolding him or
laughing. He wondered which one.

She followed along behind him after
that, taking over every task he started, from whisking the eggs to adding the
splash of hot sauce. When he prepared to flip the omelets without benefit of a
spatula, she took the pan away from him. “I’ll do it. You go butter the toast.”

“You know what your problem is?” he
asked as they sat down to eat. “You’re a control freak with no sense of
adventure.”

“Really?” She looked around at the
chaos he’d made of her formerly spotless kitchen. “And you’re a disaster
waiting to happen.”

“I might be messy, but I’m fun.”

“True.” She hid a yawn behind her
hand.

“Sleepy?”

“A little. I’m not used to staying
up all night, are you?”

“It happens.” Just the night before
he’d stayed up until dawn on a pointless stakeout. But even that was more
productive than most of his all-nighters. “Can you sleep late tomorrow?”

She frowned at the clock on the
wall. “It’s almost two A.M. So, tomorrow is already today, and I have a yoga
class at nine.” She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. “I might have to skip
that. What are your plans?”

“I’m running in a charity race at
eight. What about in the afternoon?”

“Attending a tea at The
Conservatory. Are you riding with the motorcycle club?”

“Not until Sunday. Tomorrow
afternoon I have tickets to see the Reds.”

“Can you rest after that?”

Rest on a Saturday night? Not until
he was dead. “Nah, it’s my poker night. Will you be turning in early?”

“Probably, but first, I have to go
visit my aunt in the hospital.”

Man, we
really
don’t
have anything in common
.
Too bad.
Things had gone so well between
them tonight. He’d like to spend more time with her, but didn’t have to be hit
over the head to see that their schedules and interests didn’t coincide
anyplace but in bed. That might be enough for him, but he had a feeling she’d
want more.

And he was surprised to note, he
kind of wanted more, too.

She popped a piece of bacon into
her mouth and followed it with her last bite of egg. Holding her coffee cup in
one hand, she rested her chin on the heel of the other. She beamed at him, and
the warmth of her smile caressed him from across the table. And his immediate
physical reaction didn’t have a thing to do with the cleavage peeking at him
over the plunge of her purple silk tank.

Realizing it had been too long
since he’d touched her, he pushed his chair back, prepared to change that.

“You
do
make the best omelet
in Cincinnati.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am.” Moving to
stand behind her, he adopted an exaggerated aw-shucks stance. “But you did all
the work.”

She leaned her head back and smiled
at him upside down. “I’d say we did it together. We made a good team.”

He pressed a kiss to her soft lips.
She tasted of coffee and strawberry jam, and he let his mouth linger. Without
breaking contact, he pivoted to kneel beside her. She enclosed him in her
sweet-smelling embrace.

“Know what we should do now?” His
voice was a whisper as his lips moved on hers.

“Clean the kitchen?”

“Sure, let’s do that.” He moved to cup
her breasts, feeling the weight in his palms. “Later.”

She sighed with pleasure as he
teased first one and then the other with his mouth, dampening the thin
material. With his tongue coaxing her nipples to hard points, his hands moved a
slow path from ribs to hip to inner thigh. He felt her twitch with impatience,
but he intended to prolong the game of stimulation indefinitely.

Each time they’d been physical,
he’d given her something different.

This time, he wanted her to have a
total out-of-body experience.  From nibbling her earlobes to her toes, he
didn’t want her to miss a thing. He fully intended to linger...
everywhere
.

“Ma-ax?” Her voice came out a
throaty croak.

“Hmmm?” He nuzzled the valley
between her breasts.

“Please.”

“Please what,
darlin
’?”

“Just do it.”

“Anna-honey,” he drawled over a
slow smile, “this isn’t a sixty-second sneaker commercial. We’ve got all night,
remember?”

He continued his slow exploration
until she groaned with frustration. Finally, when he allowed himself to rake
the material aside with his teeth and take the inviting peak into his mouth, he
realized he’d pushed her too far. She reached down and touched his erection,
her hand trailing the length of the hard heat that sat up and begged for her
attention. With each tentative stroke, his desire intensified.

Tired of waiting for him to give
her what she wanted, she put her other hand between her legs and rubbed her own
sweet spot. He about lost control. Damn it, watching sweet, almost
inexperienced Annabel touch herself was about the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

He reached out and pushed the
dishes aside. Putting his hands around her waist, he lifted her from the chair
to the tabletop.

His pulse hammered in his head.

His ears began to buzz.

He paused for a second to get a
grip, but it was impossible not to enjoy the delectable picture she made laid
back across the table, with her hand inside her purple panties, fingering
herself. Sweet Jesus. He broke out in a sweat.

The buzz persisted as he slid the
panties down her legs.

He shook his head and it persisted
still. “Well, hell. It’s my phone.” He reached into his trouser pocket and
pulled out the phone and condom. He checked the text and groaned. He’d half
expected this message all week, so of course this is when it would come, just
when Annabel was about to come, too. He placed the rubber in the palm of
Annabel’s free hand and closed her fingers around it. “Hold onto this and don’t
stop what you’re doing. I’ll be right back.”

Not wanting her to overhear this
conversation, he hit Mercer’s number and moved painfully into the foyer.

“Damn it,” he growled into the
phone. “Does it have to be now?”

“Nope.” The voice grated against
his ear like gravel in a cement mixer. “If you don’t want the proof you
need...”

“Are you sure this time?” Max
demanded. “Or will it be another waste of time like before?”

“Hey, these guys aren’t the bus
company. They don’t print a schedule. The truck is pulling up to the warehouse
now. Get your ass over here if you want to get pictures.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“I’ll need my money.”

Max cursed again. “You’ll get it
when I’ve got my story.”

Despite his frustration with the
timing, his pulse kicked up at the thought of finally exposing these assholes.
He wanted to bust these guys. The exposure would do more for his career
opportunities than winning some award. He took a second to call Roger to tell
him where to meet him downtown.

After making the necessary
arrangements, Max adjusted the semi-hard ridge pressing against his fly and
gathered the rest of his clothes. He shrugged into his shirt and jacket. With
only a cursory look around, he couldn’t find the bowtie or one of his socks. He
grabbed the stupid vest and stuffed into his pocket.

A filmy stocking curled like a gossamer
ribbon around one of his shoes. He picked up the intimate item and stroked the
silky texture through his fingers. On a whim, he pocketed the personal memento,
too.

Sliding his feet into his shoes, he
eyed the front door. In the interest of time, he considered the advantages of
taking off without a word, but that seemed too low, even for him.

Besides, this was Annabel. She
deserved better. He knew if he left her now in such a position and without
explanation, he’d never see her again. Of course, it was possible he’d never
see her again anyway, even if he did try to explain. That thought sent him
rushing back to her.

In the kitchen, he found her
rinsing dishes in the sink. The yardstick rigidity of her spine told him she
already understood their night was over. Just as well. If she’d still been
spread across the table like a porno all-you-can-eat buffet, he probably would
have dived right back in.

“I’m sorry.” From behind her, he
slipped his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her neck, inhaling
deeply to carry her scent away with him. “I have to go.”

“I figured.”

“It’s work.”

“I understand.” Her tone didn’t
match her words. She said she understood, but her tone said she’d carry a
grudge all the same. She turned inside the circle of his arms to face him. “Is
it Mercer?”

He donned his best poker face.
“Mercer, who?”

“Ed Mercer, the guy you met the
other day on the poker run. Works at City Hall.”

He looked at her sharply. “How do
you know that?”

She rocked back on her heels and
looked smug. “I took down his license plate number. Then I had someone at the
DMV run the number. You’re not the only one with contacts, you know.”

“Good investigative work.” He gave
her the compliment before leaning in closer and pointing his finger in his
face. “Forget everything you know about Ed Mercer, okay?”

“Okay, but maybe I should go along
with you.” Her eyes lit up. “I could be your back up.”

“
Ab
-so-freaking-
lutely
not.” He ran his hand through his hair and glanced
at the clock. He for damn sure didn’t have time for this. “Look, I’ll call you
tomorrow and explain.”

“Don’t bother.” She turned back to
the sink.

Irritation itched at him. Damned
reverse psychology. “Annabel... don’t make this any more difficult than it
already is.”

“I’m not,” she declared. “I’m
making it easy. Don’t come over. Don’t call. We did what we did. Now you have
to go to work. The end.”

“I don’t want you to have regrets.”
He couldn’t live with himself if she regretted what had happened between them.
He was almost certain he could talk her into seeing him again if he just had a
little more time.

“I don’t.” Her voice bit off the
words so tightly that he didn’t believe her for one second.

She might get physically hurt if
she went with him, but leaving her emotionally bruised felt all wrong, too. But
he had no choice, damn it! He’d make one last stab at setting things right
between them and then he’d get out of there. Tugging on her shoulders, he
turned her to face him. She did, but she took her own sweet time shaking excess
water from her hands and drying them on a dishtowel.

“Walk me to the door.”

Great, now she looked vulnerable
and dejected. He didn’t want her to feel either one of those things because of
him. He curled his fingers around hers, encouraged that she let them remain.