Beauty & the Biker (32 page)

She sighed and palmed her heart. “So romantic.”

His lip twitched. “If you say so.”

“Sense of humor, generous heart, optimist, hard worker, kid friendly, magical kisser. That’s what I asked for and that’s what I got.” She smiled at him all dreamy-eyed. “Who says fairy tales are for children?”

Charmed and intrigued, Joe polished off his drink then slicked back his wet hair. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” Avoiding his gaze, she sipped more champagne.

Joe relieved her of the glass then pulled her across the sudsy expanse until they were intimately plastered hard chest to satiny breasts.

She locked her legs around his back, wiggled against his erection. “I’ve never done it in a whirlpool.”

Joe smiled. “We’ll get to that, but first… What’s with the grocery list?”

“The what? Oh. You mean my list of ideal qualities.”

“For?”

“Prince Charming.”

He thought back on what she’d said. “You asked someone for Prince Charming?”

Her pretty face flushed red. “Yes. Although, I used the term Dream Partner. An artist who could augment my stories with powerful illustrations. Someone who clicked with me professionally and, um, personally. Hence including magical kisser on my list of ideal qualities.

“It’s embarrassing,” she went on, “because I realize now that it was selfish. I should have applied for something far more impossible. Like world peace or a disease-free nation. But what’s done is done and I’m not about to swap out this dream-come-true.”

Bella’s words pinged back and forth inside his head as a queer feeling flowed through his body. “Hold up. You applied for the impossible?’

She burrowed her face in the crook of his neck. “Please don’t make me share the mortifying details.”

He gave her a squeeze.

She grunted. “Fine. Just…don’t laugh.” Easing back, she squared her shoulders as if bracing for censure. “I was searching the internet for a dream publisher and ran across a matchmaking site. Impossible Dream dot-com.”

“Making magic since 1956.”

She blinked then mirrored his stunned expression. “You know of it?”

“I applied to it.”
Holy shit
.

“You applied for an impossible dream?”

“I was drunk.”

“Still! I can’t believe… This is… Wow. What did you apply for?”

The tips of his ears burned. “God help me it’s…sappy. And talk about selfish.”

“What was your impossible dream, Joe?”

Her blue eyes sparkled with wonder. Or hell, maybe it was the effect of champagne. Either way, her sense of awe was infectious. He thought back on the words he’d typed into that data sheet more than a month before. “To vanquish the darkness that had seeped into my soul, hardening my heart, and twisting my perspective. To cleanse my conscience. To turn back time.”

“Along the lines of world peace. Go, you.”

Joe thumbed suds from Bella’s cheeks. “A week later, I received a reply directing me to the Nowhere Public Library. I went in looking for self-help books and stumbled on to you and your story hour.”

“Holy cow.”

“Holy something.”

“I received a reply directing me to you. Specifically. Although they couldn’t verify magical kisser.” She traced a finger over his mouth. “You confirmed that quality in your studio. The night I wiped out on my bicycle.”

“So that’s why you asked me to kiss you. Not because you thought you were frigid.”

“Actually, that worry did factor in a bit. Thank you for obliterating that notion.”

He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “My pleasure.”

“I don’t know if it was serendipity, destiny, ID-dot-com or a combination of all three,” Bella said, “I just know we were meant to be.”

Joe raised a brow. “Love moves in mysterious ways?”

She smiled. “That’s what my mom always said. All I know is that my dream came true. Did yours?”

He kissed her cheek, nipped her earlobe. “Part of it. Enough to make a difference. You’ve given me hope, Bella.”

Sighing, she dropped her head back, allowing him access to her neck.

He licked the slender column of her throat, nipped her chin, palmed her breast.

She gasped then shifted, cradled the back of his neck and kissed him with slow and searing passion.

Joe’s insides fired up and—damn—melted the last of his shielded heart. Done in by a fan-frigging-tastic kiss.

She eased away, moony-eyed, soft and slick, and sweet as hell. “Can you feel the magic, Joe?”

He gazed into the depths of her mesmerizing eyes and her kind and fanciful soul. “Let’s just say I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Once Upon a Saturday…

Bella couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this nervous.

Wait. Yes, she could.

Her sophomore year of high school when she’d agreed to be Davey Loggins’ prom date. He was a senior and attended high school in Whitney, a rival school of her own. She knew very few of his classmates and had felt out of her league. Davey, who she’d fallen for over spring break, and his friends were older. They were also part of the jock set whereas she’d been a theater and book geek. She’d obsessed over wearing the wrong dress and saying the wrong thing. So much so that she threw up five minutes before Davey showed up at her house with a fancy wrist corsage. Sort of like she felt right now as she struggled to zip herself into a dress that felt way too tight and far too short.

She was nervous about attending Mitzi’s wedding. She didn’t know Mitzi or her fiancé or any one of their friends or family except for Val who she’d only met once. The ceremony was taking place in a cathedral and the reception was at a catering hall. She’d attended four weddings in her life. Three of the ceremonies had taken place in Nowhere’s small Methodist church, one had taken place in Baxter Given’s humongous backyard. Her Sunday best had been more than fine. But this was Chicago—a cathedral and a dinner dance reception—so she’d relied on Angel’s fashion advice and extensive wardrobe.

Cursing the stuck zipper, Bella started to perspire.
Great
. She had no idea if she was underdressed or overdressed. She just hoped she didn’t embarrass herself. More than anything she dreaded meeting Savage and Val’s police friends because, yeah, they were probably all tough and streetwise and she was, according to Savage, Princess Rainbow.

Feeling more queasy by the moment, she abandoned the zipper and hobbled toward her suitcase. Her feet already hurt and she’d only just buckled her shoes. Or rather Emma’s shoes. She rooted for a box of antacid. She could’ve sworn she’d packed those chalky tablets.

“Don’t puke. Don’t puke.”

Annoyed by her sudden and severe lack of confidence, Bella straightened with a huff.

“Get. A. Grip.”

She’d woken up naked in Savage’s bed. In Savage’s arms. They’d shared a long and adventurous night of uninhibited lovemaking. Sometimes tender. Sometimes wild. There hadn’t been a self-conscious bone in her body. Granted she’d been a little high on champagne, but she’d been more hopped up on love. She’d greeted the morning with a cheery and confident disposition.

Then Savage had launched into the first of several lectures. Lectures regarding her safety. Yes, Sasha’s attacker was behind bars, but there was still the matter of Pratt’s vendetta. He’d threatened anyone dear to Savage, and Bella was at the top of that list. She was also now in Pratt’s personal territory—Chicago.

At first, she’d listened and nodded, chalking up his worries to his jaded and protective nature. But as the morning rolled on, Savage’s darkening mood rained on Bella’s parade.

She blamed him for this irrational bout of nerves. She nixed the antacid and whipped out a mental umbrella intending to deflect Savage’s cynical storm. Didn’t he realize negativity breeds negativity?

“Apparently not.”

She glanced toward the bathroom. Savage had left the door open while he showered and shaved. Every few minutes he shouted a reminder.

“Stick close to me.”

“Keep your phone on your person.”

“If anyone grabs you, scream.”

As if reading her mind, Savage called out again. “If you see anyone suspicious—”

“Everyone will look suspicious!” Bella snapped. “I won’t know anyone!”

Savage walked out of the bathroom in his boxers, drying his gorgeous face with a pristine hand towel. “Are you okay? I… Whoa.” He stopped in his tracks and stared.

Even though she felt like an amoeba under a microscope, she refrained from tugging down the lacey hem. “I know it’s a little short, but according to Angel, mid-thigh is stylish.”

“It’s—”

“Tight. I know. I don’t usually wear figure-hugging clothes, but this is—”

“Gorgeous.”

“What?”

“You look gorgeous.”

She wasn’t fishing for compliments. When she’d first tried on this lacey magenta dress, she’d felt transformed. Sophisticated. But this morning she’d suffered second thoughts due to Savage’s simmering angst. His present ogling did wonders for her spirit. Hands on hips, she struck one of those red carpet poses and grinned. “I do?”

“And sexy.”

She’d expected stylish or sophisticated. “I don’t do sexy.”

“Yeah,” he said, moving toward her like a panther on the prowl, “you do.”

Her skin tingled and her pulse revved. Biker boy thought she was sexy. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

He raked a hot gaze over her body hugging dress. “Trust me.”

“What about the strappy stilettos?”

“You’re killing me.”

She smiled. “They’re Emma’s. The dress is Angel’s. I didn’t have time to shop.”

“Thank you Emma and Angel.” He pulled her into his arms. “You’re a beauty, Bella. I’ll be the envy of every man at that reception. One thing,” he said as his fingers trailed over her bare back.

“What’s that?” she asked, reveling in erotic shivers.

“Your zipper.”

“Oh.
Oh
!” Bella stepped back and turned around. “Could you help me? It’s stuck.”

“I’d rather help you out of this dress, but then we’d be late. There,” he said as the zipper slid home. “Wait. There’s a hook thingee at the top.”

“And a threaded thingee,” she said with an amused snort. “Put the hook thingee through the threaded thingee.”

“Got it.” He squeezed her shoulders then moved away.

She turned and saw him stepping into dark blue trousers.

“How would you feel if I asked you to tie my tie?” he asked with a teasing smile.

At least a smidgeon of his good humor had returned. That was something. “Lost,” she answered. “I’ve never knotted a man’s tie in my life.”

“That makes me absurdly happy,” Savage said as he pulled on a lavender shirt.

Bella had only ever seen Mr. Dark and Dangerous in jeans and t-shirts or his boxers or naked. Watching him dress in a suit was oddly, wildly erotic. Embarrassed by her prurient thoughts, she turned away and transferred necessities from her messenger bag into a tiny beaded purse—another loner from Angel. Lip gloss, money, ID… “I was thinking.” Tissues, phone. “Depending on when we leave the reception, maybe we can stop by the hospital. I’d like to visit Sasha again.”

“I won’t insult you by asking if you’re up to it. Just know she’ll look about the same as she did yesterday.”

“I’m better prepared today. It’s okay. Really.”

“I needed to speak with her anyway,” he said while struggling with his tie. “Friends of mine run a ranch in upstate Oregon. A reinvention center for troubled kids. It’s called Second Chance. I’ve been speaking to them about Sasha. Trying to arrange a move for her and her aunt. It wasn’t looking good.”

“But now it is?”

He rolled back his shoulders as if shrugging off a two-ton boulder. “Practically a done deal.”

“Oh, Joe.” Bella rushed forward and threw her arms around the man who owned her heart more by the minute.

“I can read your mind like a book,” Savage said while he held tightly and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t go putting me on a pedestal, Princess Rainbow. Arranging a ticket out of Chicago for Sasha was the least I could do.”

“But it’s not just an escape. It’s a chance to create a new life.”

Savage cupped her chin and bade her gaze. “I’m not a changed man, Bella. I still have the same history, the same baggage. I’m just making a conscious effort to take whatever positive steps I can.”

“Like drawing purple dragons and three-eyed aliens for the children in the pediatrics unit.” Bella smiled. “Val told me.”

“Yeah, well—”

“And I saw the sketches you drew for Sasha. A guardian angel?” Her heart kicked when he broke eye contact, looking embarrassed. “You’re a good man, Joe Savage.”

“Safer to say I’m inspired by a good woman.” He gave her a squeeze. “We need to get moving, sweetheart.”

Heart full, she squeezed back then slipped away in search of her sparkly shawl, a stunning lightweight wrap knitted by Chrissy.