Taming McGruff(26)

Griff looked at the younger man and nodded. “Excuse us.” He touched Priscilla’s elbow and steered her away to the big glass doors of the salon.

Her arm tingled where he held it. His grim look made her insides jump. Did he care?

“Free tonight?” he asked in a low voice, facing her now.

That was the last thing she thought he’d ask. “Yes,” she said without hesitation. His eyes burned with a light she’d never seen before.

“Good. I’ll pick you up. Six good for you?”

She nodded numbly. Was this a date?

“Casual. Jeans.” He glanced at her short leather skirt and sparkly high heels. Heat traveled over her as if his hands had made that same journey. “Low-heeled boots, too, if you have them.” With one last look, he exited.

Gulping, she moved to hold the door open and watched him walk away. Dang, he looked good coming or going. “Wow!”

He turned swiftly; a grin played around his mouth. “I heard that.”



***



A constant buzz hummed in her body for the rest of the day. Now, Priscilla yanked out another blouse, and then tossed it on her daybed. The pile grew. Standing in her jeans, boots, and bra, she peered into the back corner of the small closet. “Nothing,” she muttered, going back to the shelf. Sorting through a stack, she yanked out two of her favorites.

“Purple long sleeve tee layered over the green one,” she said in defeat. It wasn’t high fashion, but she knew Rico, her fashion consultant, would approve.

Smoothing the last one over her, she jumped when her cell phone rang. She leapt for it on her nightstand. “Hello.” She kicked herself mentally for not looking at the screen first to see who was calling.

“Can you meet me downstairs?” Griff’s deep voice poured over her like honey.

Her heart jumped to her throat. “Be right there.” Hanging up, she kicked herself again for such a lame answer.

By the time she raced down the three flights of stairs, Priscilla was out of breath. Flinging the door open, she stopped short at the sight before her. There, at the curb, he sat on his big, black Harley. His slow, sexy grin made her insides melt. “Black Beauty! You are so kidding me?!” she asked, holding her hands over her mouth, unable to contain her excitement.

He held out a black helmet for her. “Ready for the ride of your life?”

With you? Always!



***



Nestled behind him, with their helmets in place, Priscilla let him pull her hands around him and settle them on his hard, firm middle. “Heaven,” she said.

He started the bike, revving it. It vibrated underneath them.

Before she knew it, he pulled out of the parking spot and eased to the traffic light at the corner. It turned green. He expertly drove through the city streets, taking them to the highway, and then down so many back roads she had no idea where they were or how long they’d been riding. She didn’t care. The wind rushed by and her middle dipped in the best way possible.

She held onto his powerful body, reveling in the strength and warmth of him. His scent tickled her senses. She could get used to this, used to him.

The change in the motor brought her back to the moment. Griff pulled into the dirt parking lot of a little wooden shack of a restaurant.

“Hungry?” he asked, tugging off his helmet and helping her off the back of the bike. With a few swift movements, he assisted her with her helmet.

“Starving,” she said, running a hand through her hair.

“Best burgers in town.” He nodded to the place.

Looking at him, her heart melted. “I can’t thank you enough for the ride. It was so much fun.”

He got up, swinging his leg over the seat, standing close to her. “I’m glad you liked it.” The smile in his voice settled in her, warming her.

“You were right about the ride of my life,” she whispered.

His soft chuckle caused butterflies to flutter in her middle. Oh, no, she couldn’t really be falling for him, could she?



***



A few minutes later, with his hand lightly on her lower back, she followed the waitress to their table. She shivered at his touch. He must have felt it, too; he moaned.

“Need menus or you know what you want?” the middle-aged lady asked, pulling out the stained, worn placards from her apron as they settled in the booth.

Priscilla turned to Griff. “Cheeseburger and fries sound good to me.”

“Make that two,” he said to the waitress. “Root beer for me.”

“Me, too,” she added. After they stated their preference on how they wanted their burgers cooked, their waitress scooted away to greet the family a few tables down. “Not a beer drinker or is it because you’re driving?”