Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) (11 page)

“Where you’re from?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, that explains the mysterious
drawl you take on and off like a pair of sunglasses.”

“All the big news markets expect
their reporters to sound like everyone else.” He grimaced. “When I’m not on-camera,
some of the Southern-
ese
tends to creep back in.”

“Mostly when you’re being a tease.”

“Do I tease you?” The finger he
trailed along her cheek did just that.

“All the time.” She leaned in the
other direction, away from the inclination to wrap herself around him. “But I’m
on to that trick.”

Accepting her withdrawal, he held
up his hands and shoved them into his pockets. Unfortunately, the move took all
of his glorious warmth away, too. “Dang, soon you’ll be on to all my little
secrets.”

“Do you have many?”

His shrug was all shoulders. “No
more than most.”

But he did and excelled at hiding
them behind a mask of nonchalance and a killer smile more cleverly than she hid
hers behind old-maid clothes or in the editing room. “Tell me about your
family. Do you have parents?”

Bleak shadows flickered behind his
eyes. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“No.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with
his hand. “Well, yeah, okay. My mother split when I was four. Dad gave up a
promising music career to sell insurance during the week and pump gas on the
weekend to keep us fed.”

“Where are they now?”

“I hear Ma’s running a health club
in Florida with her third or fourth husband. Dad’s retired, still in Nashville,
bouncing grandkids on his knee and picking up the occasional gig on the weekend.”

“Sounds nice.” Annabel’s older
sister hadn’t been back to Cincinnati in years, and they’d never been close. If
she didn’t have Carly, she’d have no one but a prickly aunt from her father’s
side and some scattered cousins on her mother’s.

He frowned. “On what planet?”

“Mine, I guess. Messy, maybe, but
real. Life at my house was very serene.” At least, on the surface. “Sterile.
Isolated.”

“What happened with your folks?”

“My parents were professors at the
University of Cincinnati. Mother was philosophy. Father, literature. They spent
lots of time reading and thinking deep thoughts.” She mulled over how much or
how little of her stifling home life to reveal. “My childhood memories include
years of stiff propriety and polite indifference followed by lingering
illness.”

“Any sisters and brothers?”

“One sister, Elaina. Older.”

“Is she as…um, conservative and
responsible as you?”

“No, they were nearly forty when
they adopted her, and she turned out to be a handful. A few years later, much
to her surprise, Mother got pregnant with me. By then, Elaina’s liveliness had
exhausted their limited supply of parental energy. I countered that by being as
little trouble as possible. She left to study art in Europe after high school.
I stayed home to care for our ailing mother. Not long before she died, Father
fell ill, too.”

“Tough break.” The arm he’d removed
a few minutes before crept back around her, pulling her close and warming her
up again. “What would you have done instead, if you’d had the choice?”

“Film school in New York.” She
didn’t hesitate with her response, but lately she wondered if she would’ve had
the guts to take such a big risk. Would she have braved going out on her own in
the big city?

He grunted in understanding. “Is
that why there weren’t any boyfriends? You were too busy nursing your parents?”

“Yes, but even before that... they
were very strict with me. I guess they thought they were too lenient with
Elaina, so I wasn’t allowed to go out much. When I did, I never fit in with the
other kids. Kind of like today.”

“You fit in.” He grinned. “Sort
of.”

“You know I was out of step all
day. Everybody but me knew what was going on. And I blew several unrelated,
innocent incidents all out of proportion.”

“Maybe I should’ve clued you in
sooner than I did.” At least he had the grace to admit that

“Yes, you should have, you rat.”
She gave him a half-hearted punch in a very muscular arm. “You knew what I’d
assume as soon as you said we were going somewhere with a motorcycle gang.”

“I said
club
, not gang.”

“How was I supposed to know the
difference?” She pushed against his immovable shoulder, trying to put a little
space between them.

She expected him to push her back.
Instead, he pulled and brought her against his broad chest with a thump.

“So.” He laced his fingers together
at the nape of her neck. “Did you like my idea of a good time?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I would never
have picked it, but it was fun.”

“You want to try it again?”

The intensity of how much she
wanted to try it again frightened her. He made her want to do things, feel
things, take risks she’d never attempted before. For one day, it had been fine.
But did she dare continue? With a sinking heart, she didn’t think so.

She opened her mouth to tell him
so, but before the refusal escaped, his lips covered hers. Gentle, at first,
then firmer and more demanding, the kiss managed to suck all thought from her
head, all air from her lungs, all good intentions into the vapor. She leaned
into him as he pulled her closer, spinning helplessly from the sexual chaos he
created inside her.

His strong arms enveloped her.
Hands moved everywhere. Hers along his ribs, and his under her T-shirt. Years
of suppressed desire exploded within her. Textures that had never seemed so
vivid before, so erotic, now provided sensations that took her to the edge. The
soft denim of his shirt and the rasp of his jaw incited her with a need so
great she forgot who she was, who he was, and where they were.

The heat that engulfed her didn’t
abate as he lifted her shirt and the evening breeze caressed her breasts. His
hands skimmed the lace cups of her bra and drew a groan of pleasure from her.
As his head bent forward to tease her nipple with his tongue, cheering erupted
from down the hill.

“Oh my God.” She tugged on the hem
of her shirt. “Can they see us?”

“No.” He held her against him with
his hands at her waist. “They’re probably announcing the winning poker hand.”

A tug of war developed over the
position of her shirt. For every inch he tried to raise it, she pulled it down
two. “We can’t do this here.”

“Fine.” He surrendered her shirt.
The soft warmth of his breath nuzzled her neck and lulled her into momentary
acquiescence. “We could go to my place.”

“Why?” She sounded like the world’s
biggest dummy as the word emerged from her mouth and his meaning dawned on her.
Full on heat washed through her as she pictured going to his apartment and
opening herself up to the kind of pleasures she knew he could provide.

She wanted to, oh, how she wanted
to, but she knew herself well enough to know she’d never be able to indulge in
such a carnal encounter with someone as worldly as Max. Everything about the
idea scared her to death. She would be overwhelmed by him, and he would find
her lacking in so many ways. Setting aside her regrets, she gathered herself
together and gave him the good manners her mother had taught her. “Oh, no. I
couldn’t, but thank you for the offer.”

“Don’t go all Martha Stewart on
me.” He looked at her with eyes that sharpened to clear focus from the blurry
haze of passion. “Just tell me why not.”

“I’m flattered. Maybe.” Having
never been propositioned by someone with his reputation, she couldn’t be sure
how she did feel. Flattered that he wanted her. Intimidated that his desire
included so many others. Insulted that she was just one more in a long line of
easy women who succumbed to his charms. “But it won’t work. We’re nothing
alike. We’re too different. We want different things.”

“You wanted the same thing I did a
few seconds ago.” His fingertips stroked the base of her neck, urging her to
reconsider.

With each passing second, she grew
colder. “I changed my mind.”

“All I want is for you to go home
with me for the night. I’m not asking for a lifetime commitment.”

“Well, that’s good.” She forced
false cheerfulness into her tone. “Because I’m not interested in anything
serious.”

“You think I am?” His voice rumbled
with incredulity.

“No, no, I know I’d just be another
bump in the road for you.” She paused for a denial, but forged on when he
didn’t offer one. “But you’re a distraction I can’t afford right now. It’s time
for me to concentrate on my career.” It sounded lame even to Annabel, and as
the warmth of his hand dropped away from her neck, she almost recanted.

“That’s bull, but that’s fine.” He
turned on his heel and started down the path toward the party. “You tell
yourself whatever you want.”

“It’s nothing personal.” She raced
to catch up with him.

“Sure, it is, Morgan. It’s very
personal, but don’t worry. I could take it as a compliment. I didn’t realize
you found me that fascinating. I’ve known women who wanted to use me as a
stepping-stone in their careers, but no one’s ever considered me an obstacle
before. In fact, if you’d played your cards right, I might have been able to
help you out.” The accompanying shrug was as indifferent and as insulting as
the insinuation.

As if she would ever sleep with
someone to get ahead!

As if she needed to!

Other women in his life might be
opportunistic and ambitious enough to climb into bed with him to advance their
careers, but she had stronger principles than that. She had the talent and
self-confidence to take her where she wanted to go. She didn’t need Max
Williams and his mind-numbing kisses.

She didn’t need him at all.

She’d show him how much she didn’t
need him.

He’d see when she won the Community
First award right in front of his nose.

Her indignation carried her down
the path and all the way home. Having acquired a feel for the bike on the long
day’s journey, she held herself erect in a Max-free zone and slammed into him
only when he braked in front of her house.

“Here you are,” he said as she
scrambled to put a space between them big enough to hold a truckload of
differences. “Safe and sound again at home.” His vanilla voiceover tones
contained no sarcasm or emotion, but somehow she knew his impassivity hid a
sneer. “Just the way you like it.”

“Thank you.” She snapped the helmet
into place on the back of the seat, determined to remember her manners even
though he remained planted on the Harley. “I had an interesting day.”

“Good.” Not very encouraging.

Honestly, she couldn’t say she
hoped they’d do it again sometime. But now that she looked at life from the
safe vantage point of her own sidewalk, the idea of driving around tamely in
her Saab for the rest of her life did seem rather—flat.

“Well, then, thanks, again.” She
made herself turn and head up the walk.

“Annabel,” he said, as she neared
the porch.

She stopped but didn’t turn back.
“What?”

“Do you ever do anything
spontaneously? Just because you want to?”

“I went with you today, didn’t I?”
She continued to face her front door and wasn’t sure if he heard her.

“That you did.” The Harley engine
roared to life on the last word, then died out again as if he’d thought better
of leaving. “But you would have stayed home if Carly and I hadn’t urged you
on.”

She ignored the truth of his
statement and swung around to confront him. “What about you? Do you ever take
anything
seriously?”

“Only my work when I have to. And
my family.”

The bit about his family gave her
pause, but only briefly. Knowing he cared about his family raised her opinion
of him. Not enough to bridge the gap between them though. A close-knit family
and winning personality didn’t make up for pregnant ex-girlfriends, one-night stands,
strippers, and the downfall of innocent interns. “That’s why this is goodbye.”

He shook his head. “That’s not why.
You’re saying goodbye because you’re tempted by everything about me and that
terrifies you.”

“Hah! You’re as afraid of me as I
am of you!”

“I’m not afraid.” He flung himself
off the bike and strode forward, sweeping her into his arms. His kiss consumed
her in a firestorm of challenge and passion.

Annabel struggled to keep up with
it. Hot and hungry. Frustrated and angry. Eager and wary. All the confusing
emotions of the day poured into one heart-stopping embrace. If they continued,
she might invite him inside or pull him down on the ground. But he withdrew
abruptly. He cradled her face in his hands and stared at her so hard, for so
long, she wished she could read his mind.

“Think about how happy you are with
your life the way it is,” he said at last, “and you give me a call when you’re
brave enough to face the truth. If I’m still around, I’ll show you what you’ve
been missing.”

Tuesday afternoon,
Annabel paced outside the closed doors of the Arts Commission meeting room. Her
boss, Howard Lasting, sat on a wooden bench. He crossed and uncrossed his lanky
legs while he stared out the window and contemplated the flow of the Ohio
River.

“Annabel, have a seat.” Even while
bored to tears, his command assumed obedience. “You’re making
me
nervous, and I have nerves of steel.” He yawned and closed his eyes.

Probably not a good time to broach
her biker brainstorm. But she so rarely had him as a captive audience, it
seemed a shame not to make the most of the opportunity. She perched on a seat
across from him.

“I have an idea about a documentary
on motorcycle clubs.” The statement contained none of the polish she’d
practiced on the way to work that morning.

“A motorcycle club?” Howard opened
his eyes and looked at her with disdain. One of his bristly, caterpillar
eyebrows arched upward. “Like the Hells Angels? 
Easy Rider
?
The
Wild Bunch
? Black leather jackets aside, all of that sounds so sixties.”

“That’s what I thought at first,
too,” she said. “But respectable motorcycle clubs consist of weekend warriors
who ride for fun, not to rebel or make some anti-establishment social
statement. You should see a pack of them roaring along the highway with
gleaming helmets and chrome.”

“Unh,” he groaned. “I have seen
one. A couple of weeks ago, a whole parade of those bozos moved through an
intersection like a psychotic funeral procession, trapping me in place for ten
minutes. Damned aging hippies.”

“It’s not like that.” Not entirely.
“People from all walks of life belong to them, from judges to mechanics. They
get together for rallies, rides, fundraisers, and meetings. They have their own
newsletters and Facebook pages, like the 4-H or the Shriners.”

He rubbed a finger up and down his
prominent nose, indicative of his thinking mode. “Who could we sell it to?”

Getting a paying sponsor was always
the second step toward approval—right after the initial idea. When Howard
turned to the bottom line, she knew she’d caught his interest. “The Motorcycle
Organization of America.” She jumped up to pace again as she bounced the idea
toward him. “They might want to use it to spruce up their image.”

“Maybe.”

“Or motorcycle safety awareness to
promote wearing helmets.” She made a viewfinder with her hands and framed the
mental image. “Sunlight gleaming off all those shiny acrylic heads would make a
stunning visual.”

Howard chuckled. She might have
hooked him. “Hmmm.” He rubbed his nose again.

“Or shoot it with a philanthropic
angle.” She continued to pace. “Did you know that some bike clubs use their
rides to raise money for charity?”

“I did not know that,” he said then
nodded.

Thank God.
She let out the
breath she’d been holding. A nod usually meant he deemed the project worthy of
consideration.

“I see the possibilities,” he
admitted. “Maybe Terry can do something with it.”

“Terry? No way!” Annabel objected,
loudly, to the possibility of handing off her project to another producer.
Howard snapped a glare her way, and she modified her tone. “I mean, it was my
idea. I want to do it.”

“Let’s see how this goes.” He
jerked his head toward the meeting room. “Winning on Saturday would improve
your chances of overseeing future projects.” Bored again, he resumed his study
of the river. “Sit down. Try to contain yourself.”

“Sorry.” Deflated by his lack of
confidence in her, she dropped onto the bench next to him. “I guess I’m on
edge. This is all new to me.”

“You’ll do fine.” His off-hand
words and disinterest eroded her small store of self-esteem.

“I’m just worried about the kids.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “They were supposed to be here ten
minutes ago.”

A spasm of distaste crossed his
face. “How many of them are coming?”

“Three. Or four.” Seven, she
silently amended. Or eight.

As a nominee, she’d been invited to
present witnesses to testify about the impact of her project. She intended to
include as many of the students who had appeared in the film as possible, both
the successes and the failures. One side balanced the other and confirmed the
story she’d wanted to convey.

During the four years of production
for
Challenging Destiny
, Annabel found it impossible to remain aloof
from the students. In real life, she couldn’t help comparing the difficulties
they faced in their lives to the relative ease of those lead by Carly and her
friends just a few miles away. With a slight shift in birth and geography,
economics and opportunity, their lives would have been switched.

After Annabel had earned their
trust, the teens often turned to her for help and advice. Sometimes she’d
filled the role of social worker, mentor, or confidante, and she had grown to
know and care for them all. They meant much more to her now than the subjects
of a film. They were friends. With the project over, many still kept in touch.

“They’ll either get here or they
won’t.” Howard’s lack of concern came as no surprise. His opposition to their
presence had been a sore spot between them for days.

The elevator door opened, and two
of the students stepped out. Keisha, currently a college student, and
Sukari
, an unwed mother who hadn’t managed to graduate, but
planned to get her GED soon.

Sukari
had her little one with her, leading the toddler by the hand. “Come on, now,
Kenyon, don’t make mama any later.” She picked the boy up and carried him.
“Sorry, Ms. Morgan. My sister didn’t tell me ‘til the last minute that she
couldn’t babysit. But my Kenyon, he’s a good boy and he won’t cause trouble.
Will you, fella?”

Annabel welcomed both girls. “I’m
glad you brought Kenyon with you,
Sukari
. Look how
big he’s gotten.” Annabel tickled the baby’s tummy and gave the young women
hugs. “It’s great to see all three of you! Come tell me how things are going.”

A few minutes later, two of her
young male subjects showed up.
DeSean
, an aspiring
sound technician/record producer, smiled and hugged Annabel, always eager to
please. Warren, recently released from jail on a drug charge, scowled, like a
stray dog waiting for the next kick or curse. Soon Jonah, Viper, and Selena—two
former gang members and a cheerleader—joined the growing group.

“I’m so pleased you’re all here
with me today.” Annabel picked up baby Kenyon from the floor. He pulled her
hair, tugged on an earring, and stuck his fingers in her mouth before giving
her a smacking kiss on the check and wiggling to get down.

Everyone else laughed at his
curiosity and energy, but Howard frowned over the growing crowd. Dismissing
them as beneath his attention, he pulled out his phone and began scrolling.

The volatile combination of Warren
and Viper worried Annabel a bit, but she smiled and chatted, doing her best to
keep the former rivals apart. The eight teens sprawled across the chairs,
benches, and tables, ignoring her boss and his disdain.

The elevator doors slid open again.
With her group complete, she looked up to see who else had shown up. Her pulse
registered off the Richter scale at the sight of Max.

She’d spent most of the past two
sleepless nights reviewing their stupid argument. Despite feeling that it was
best to leave things alone between them, a happy-to-see-him smile bloomed on
her face. Remembering his last words to her, she wiped it from her mouth faster
than smeared lipstick.

She doubted she ranked high on his
list of favorite people these days either. But of course, when had she?
Saturday, maybe. Briefly. Now, she noticed the lack of his attention the way
she’d miss warm gloves on a cold winter’s day.

Wearing dark pants, a charcoal
sport coat, and a shirt the color of coconut cream, he looked good enough to
eat. With his strong shoulders, flat stomach, muscular arms, and narrow hips,
it was impossible to forget she’d spent hours snuggled up against that gorgeous
display of masculinity.

But today, Annabel could only watch
as a Double D bimbo with big hair and spray-on clothes clung to him like an
inflatable life vest. Well, if that was the kind of woman he was attracted
to...
Fine.

“Hello, there, Morgan, Howard.” He
shook hands with her boss, shifted his gaze over her and ran a glance over the
rest of her companions. “You’ve got quite a crowd here.”

Her defenses rose in reaction to
the quick, dismissive perusal. “Couldn’t you find anyone to speak up for your
project?”

“
Shawntel
is all I need.” He patted the woman’s hand and began making introductions.

Annabel’s boys drooled over the
bimbo’s buxom display.

Even Howard seemed fascinated by
the overflowing bounty. “Take my seat,
Shawntel
.” He
jumped up to make room for her.

“I guess we’re early,”
Shawntel
said in a whispery little voice.  Sinking
into the vacated spot, she finally released her grip on Max.

“No, the committee’s running
behind.”
Howard
peeled back his cuff to
check the time. “We should have been in and out of there by now.”

Max practically smothered the bimbo
with attention for a few moments. “Do you need a sweater? Some water?
Anything?”

“I’m fine, Max.” She shooed him
away with a sweet smile. “Don’t hover.”

Satisfied she was settled
comfortably, he turned to Annabel’s friends. “Are all y’all here for Annabel?
Nice show of support.”

“Hey,” Malcolm said. “You’re the
dude on the news.”

“That’s right,” Keisha agreed.
“I’ve seen you on TV. Are you here to witness for
Challenging Destiny
,
too?”

“Not today.” He flashed his television
smile. “Although I’ve heard it’s very good.”

“Damn straight. It’s got me in it,
don’t it?” Keisha planted an adamant fist on her hip and drew hoots of laughter
from her friends.

“Then maybe I’ll put in a good word
for it,” Max said, finally turning to Annabel. “You’re looking less
buttoned-down than usual, Morgan.” He flicked a finger at the collar she’d left
undone that morning. He seemed careful not to graze her skin, but his natural
magnetism almost sucked her into his force field anyway. “Any reason?”

She clutched the top two buttons of
her blouse. Years of personal self-analysis made it clear to her why she’d
hidden behind her straightjacket clothes all these years. But this morning, she
knew she didn’t want to continue camouflaging herself that way. Max’s
preferences weighed not at all on the decision.
Right?

“It’s hot in here.” She fanned her
face with her hand.

“Like it was hot in the restaurant
on Saturday?” he asked as Kenyon toddled over and tugged on his pant leg.
Without hesitation, he picked the child up and tucked him into the crook of his
elbow. “Hey, there, little fella.”

“Ms. Morgan, Mr. Lasting,” said a
woman from the door. “Thank you for your patience. Please follow me.”

Lynn
Dorey
,
one of the other nominees, swept haughtily through the lobby and left with her
entourage.

“Us, too?” Keisha asked.

“Not just yet.” The woman took a
tentative step back as she surveyed the boisterous group. “We’ll call the rest
of you in a little later.”

Annabel stood up, indicating the
place on the bench she’d just vacated. “Looks like there’ll be a crowd out here
for a while longer. Would you like to slip into my seat?” she asked Max.

“I’d love to slip into your seat,
Annabel.”

He answered her so smoothly that
the innuendo didn’t register until
DeSean
, Warren and
the others laughed and elbowed one another. Even
Shawntel
choked back a giggle. Howard looked rather pained.

If it had been Max’s intention to
fluster her before her interview, she refused to let on that he accomplished
it. “Come on, Howard.”  Annabel pulled him away from the charming
Shawntel
. “We’re up.”

Annabel’s presentation went well,
all things considered. At first, her nerves got the best of her, and she read
from her prepared comments. But by the time the panel began questioning her,
she spoke coherently and authoritatively. For his part, Howard bragged about
Lasting Productions, but gave her most of the credit for the documentary.

After the students came in, the
tone of the interview shifted again. They were wonderfully candid about the
impact the film had on their lives. Their mature behavior and comments filled
her with pride.

At the conclusion of the interview,
the kids huddled around her in the waiting area, exchanging hugs and high
fives. She thanked them for their participation and urged them to keep in touch
even as her gaze strayed to Max.