“How old were you when you got these?”
“Old enough to know better,” he said after a moment. His voice sounded husky, and she looked at him.
Their eyes locked, and she lost track of the conversation. Then she snatched her hand away from his arm and cleared her throat.
“You don’t have to drive me home. And you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll hang out with Simone a while longer and go home with her.”
Ian looked over her shoulder, towards the bar. “Simone looks busy.”
Kate turned her head and saw her friend chatting with a cute guy. “She’s just passing the time. She wouldn’t ditch me for a guy—not after the day I’ve had.”
“If you go home with me, she won’t have to make that choice.” He paused for a second. “And by ‘go home with me,’ I mean let me drive you home and see you to your door.”
She rolled her eyes. “I get that you’re not propositioning me, Hart. You don’t have to keep emphasizing it.”
She glanced back at Simone again. As though he sensed that she was wavering, Ian’s voice turned persuasive. “It’s a Harley. Black leather, chrome, and more power than you’ve ever felt between your legs. A bad girl’s dream. What do you say?”
A bad girl’s dream.
She had no idea how he was doing it, but Ian seemed to know exactly what to say to her tonight.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll tell Simone I’m leaving and meet you out front in a few minutes.”
As she made her way through the crowd, she replayed another choice phrase in her head.
More power than you’ve ever felt between your legs.
If any other man said that, she’d assume it was a come-on . . . or else that he was overcompensating for something.
But neither of those scenarios applied to Ian. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t coming on to her, and she had a feeling he didn’t have to overcompensate for anything.
Not that she’d ever be in a position to verify that, of course.
Did Kate have any idea how hot and bothered she’d made him?
He doubted it.
He’d always known she was clueless when it came to the practical side of life, and apparently that included dealing with men. Which was why he’d pushed her to let him take her home. She was like an angelfish swimming in shark-infested waters, and he couldn’t count on the next guy who hit on her being like Arthur . . . or him.
Not that he was usually so noble. But Kate had had a lousy day, thanks in part to him, and she’d been drinking. That was the only reason he felt so protective of her.
It was guilt, plain and simple. Guilt and basic human decency, not to take advantage of a vulnerable woman.
He had a sudden, visceral memory of Kate’s body against his.
Sweet Christ. If it weren’t for guilt and decency, he wouldn’t even wait to get her home tonight. He’d drag her into a dark corner right here in the club, slide his hands under that tight little skirt, and—
A loud honk brought him out of his heated fantasy.
He’d almost walked into the street. Now he took a step back and looked around, spotting Stephen’s Harley a few doors down.
By the time Kate came out of the club, he was waiting for her at the curb. Her eyes lit up when she saw the beautiful machine, and he couldn’t help smiling at her enthusiasm.
The air had turned cool for a May evening. When Kate came up beside him, he pulled off his leather jacket and laid it across her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she said, looking surprised and grateful as she put her arms through the sleeves. Then he handed her a helmet.
“This is my first time on a motorcycle,” she confessed as she put it on. “I’ve always wanted to ride one.”
“Of course you have. All right-minded people want to ride a motorcycle.”
She started to climb on, and then hesitated. “I’m wearing a miniskirt,” she said. “Doesn’t this have the potential to be a little indecent?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll be facing front, so I won’t see anything—and that jacket’s long enough to hide you from the rest of the world.”
She thought about it for a moment and then nodded, swinging a leg over the passenger seat and settling in behind him, putting her hands lightly on his shoulders.
“You’ll probably want to hang on a little tighter than that,” he said.
He wasn’t really concerned that she’d fall off—he wasn’t planning to go that fast. But with a woman like Kate on his bike, he’d be a fool not to get her as close as possible.
He reached back to move her hands from his shoulders to his waist. Then he revved the engine, smiling to himself when her grip tightened instinctively.