The Darkest Corner (Gravediggers #1)(61)

He pulled out his cell and dialed Elias. Since he knew he'd been watching the cameras, Deacon didn't have to explain what he needed, but he did it anyway.

"I need a favor," he said.

"I can see that," Elias said. "I'm happy to take her off your hands. What the hell is in that emergency bag? I can't decide if she terrifies me or if I'm turned on."

"I'll let you be the judge of that," Deacon said. "Can you give Miller a ride? I think she lives near your place."

"This day is getting better by the minute," Elias said. "I'll be right there."

Elias knocked on the kitchen door a minute later and opened it without being invited in. "Looks like I missed the party," he said, winking at Miller. "What do I have to do to get an invitation next time?"

"Have a vagina," Miller said deadpan.

Tess burst into laughter and said, "She's an acquired taste."

"My favorite," Elias said. "What do you say? Want to hit the open road and see where it takes us?"

Miller arched an eyebrow and said, "As long as it takes us to my front door."

"And I thought you were the one who liked to take chances."

"I'm letting you take me home," she said. "That seems like a pretty big chance to me."

Elias arched a brow and moved in closer. "How's that?" he asked.

"If I have to explain it to you then maybe you're not as smart as I thought you were." Miller gave Tess a hug and tossed her keys to Elias. "Looks like I'll be eating ice cream and watching movies tonight. Don't forget to call me tomorrow. And for Pete's sake don't forget the emergency pack."

"I really want to know what's in that emergency bag," Deacon said as Miller and Elias left.

Tess just smiled, two streaks of color painting her cheeks. "Hmm. I'm at a loss for words so it seems like a good time to change the subject. Did I tell you I'm thinking of getting a motorcycle when I move to the city? I hear they get great gas mileage."

Deacon stared at her blankly for a moment. The thought of her decked out in leather, straddling a bike, made him go temporarily mute.

"Do you have leather pants?" he asked.

"No, should I get some?"

"It's essential," he said stoically.





CHAPTER TWELVE




Tess was afraid she could get used to living on the wild side.

She'd always made it a point to be extra-responsible and make good decisions. But within three days of being in Deacon's company, she wanted to do what she wanted and say to hell with everyone else. Deacon was a bad influence on her. And she liked it.

Common sense had her running upstairs to put on a pair of jeans, an army-green tank top, and a pair of cowboy boots she never got to wear because it was usually too hot. She braided her hair down the side and put on the extra helmet he'd given her. Everyone in town was going to be watching them. And those who weren't watching would hear about it and start talking.



       
         
       
        

Tess didn't know squat about motorcycles, but she pictured herself on something small and bright red. Something fun and zippy and cute. Deacon's motorcycle wasn't cute. It was black and chrome and looked like it belonged in the middle of a pack of Hell's Angels.

There was something very primal about watching a man straddle a motorcycle. The way his jeans conformed to his muscular thighs and the way his biceps strained beneath the tight sleeves of his T-shirt as he revved the engine. And when he started the engine and it rumbled to life, she shuddered at the pure unadulterated sexiness of it all.

She listened to his instructions as he told her where to step and put her feet. If she'd been thinking clearly, she'd have realized ahead of time how intimate it was going to be to sit behind him.

"Relax," he said over the roar of the engine. "Put your hands at my waist, and lean into the turns with me."

"Right, easy for you to say," she muttered under her breath.

She took a deep breath and relaxed, her breasts pressing into his back. And then she placed her hands at his waist like he'd told her and said, "Holy cow."

"What was that?" he called back.

"Nothing."

The seat vibrated beneath her, and the heat from the engine rebounded off the driveway and surrounded them. It was louder than she'd thought it would be, and she restrained herself from reaching farther around to cop a proper feel of the hardest abs she'd ever touched in her life. Sitting behind him on his motorcycle was the biggest sensual rush she'd ever experienced with a man.

"And isn't that a damn shame," she whispered. "Lame ass."