Damn. She should have slapped him for real.
“JJJa…”
“Ice,” he said quickly. “You forget my name already, babe? Just this morning you were screaming it so loud in bed I thought the neighbors would call the fucking cops.”
Lana yanked her gaze to James, her numb brain scrambling desperately to play catch-up. Was he jerking her around, or was he trying to save her from Rex? She sifted quickly through her memories. Aside from walking out on her in the middle of the night and never contacting her again—definitely jerking-her-around behavior—he had always been a straight-talking, straight-shooting, down-to-earth kind of guy. She had always known where she stood with him. But now? Now, she didn’t trust him.
Dragging his attention away from a thoroughly chastised Kickstand, Rex frowned at James. “You know her?”
“Yeah, I know her.” Disapproval and exasperation tinged James’s voice. Still, there was something in the sincerity of his concerned gaze that made Lana fairly certain he was trying to help her escape.
“She said she was waiting for her boyfriend,” Rex grumbled. “That was you?”
James sighed and gently clasped Lana’s arm. “She was supposed to wait for me in the lobby until we were done with our meeting, not skank around the fucking bar dressed like she’s needing attention. Weren’t you listening this morning, babe?”
Lana exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Damn he was fast with the lies. Almost as fast as he’d been at sneaking away in the middle of the night. Still, if he was trying to help her, he’d definitely come up with a plausible story. She would have to put aside the urge to pummel him, at least long enough to escape Rex’s clutches.
But how was she going to act like his girlfriend when she could barely stand the sight of him? Even worse, how was she going to act like a biker’s old lady? Even when she had been a biker’s old lady, she hadn’t fit in. She had the fire but not the thick skin; the anger but not the attitude.
Unlike Angel. She closed her eyes for the briefest second and imagined herself as a tough, wiry biker chick, long platinum hair, high-heeled boots, leather jacket and a spandex, leopard-print dress. She imagined the confident rasp of Angel’s voice, her don’t-fuck-with-me attitude and her total fearlessness at the possibility of facing the wrath of an entire motorcycle club when she divorced their leader.
Lana opened her eyes and gave James a tight, hard, Angel-like smile.
“Sorry, honey.” She dripped the last word. “I must have been caught up cooking your breakfast, oiling your leathers and servicing your motorcycle this morning.”
“She your old lady?” Confusion clouded Rex’s face.
“Yeah. She’s my old lady.” James released his grip and slid his arm around Lana’s waist, pulling her into his chest. Her cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his Harley Davidson T-shirt pulled tight over a sheet of rock-hard muscle. She breathed in his familiar scent—sharp and clean, like soap—and the heavier musk of leather and grease. Desire licked its way up her spine.
“Can’t seem to keep her out of trouble,” James said, his hand firm and reassuring against her back. “Second time she’s caused a problem in this club.”
Lana closed her eyes. The deep rumble of James’s voice took her back to the nights he had gently coaxed her deepest, most secret desires from her lips and made them real. She fought the urge to plaster her body against him and beg him to take her there again. Free her from the torment of her past.
As if sensing her need, he ran his hand up and down her back, a seemingly absent caress that set her blood on fire. “Looks like you’ll have to stay with me until the meeting is over, babe. I can’t have you causing more trouble in the club.”
Stay? With James? And a group of bikers? In Master Tony’s club? No damn way. Her take on his unspoken plan had been to get her out and away from Rex. Angel or no Angel, she wasn’t sticking around. The situation had gotten entirely out of hand. She would have to get her pictures another day. And figure out what James was doing with Hades.
She wrenched herself out of James’s arms. “Change of plans, honey. I’ve got a sudden urge to spit shine your spare boots. I’m going home.”
“No, babe, you’re not.”
“Watch me.” Lana spun around and walked away.
Chapter Two
He watched her.
He couldn’t help but watch her.
For two years he had dreamed of seeing her again, and here she was.
And there she went.
Lana strode toward the door, perfect ass swaying, long, lean legs showcased by her barely there skirt and knee-high stiletto boots. His heart pounded against his rib cage and he wanted nothing more than to grab her and haul her back into his arms.