One Wild Night With Her Enemy by Heidi Rice

CHAPTER TWO

SPELLBOUND.

That’s what he was.

Luke figured he probably ought to be disturbed by how much he had wanted Cassandra James to say yes. But as he placed his hand on her lower back and handed his ticket to the valet, and she shuddered violently, he found it hard to give a damn.

He hadn’t discovered a thing about her except that she was British, and she worked for a British billionaire investor whom he’d heard of but didn’t know much about. But that didn’t stop his yearning to place his lips on the nape of her neck below her hairline and inhale her scent.

Even gilded by the dusk, that killer blush still ignited her cheeks. Cassandra James presented a challenge—a challenge he hadn’t even known he wanted. She seemed unable to hide her physical response to him, and he sensed she lacked the sexual confidence of the women he usually dated.

He had no idea why he found that so refreshing. He wasn’t a guy who had ever prized honesty when it came to dating—everyone had their secrets, him most of all, and he respected that, understood it. Sex didn’t mean intimacy—certainly not where he was concerned—but she excited him on more than just a physical level.

The valet pulled up at the kerb, riding the vintage 955cc motorbike Luke had reconditioned himself last winter.

Cassandra swung her head round, her golden eyes widening to saucer-size. ‘You’re not serious? I can’t ride that.’

He chuckled—he couldn’t help it. Her shocked expression was as hot as her slight pout of disappointment.

‘Sure you can. I have a spare helmet,’ he said, as he handed a hundred-dollar bill to the valet.

‘How much change do you need, sir?’ the boy asked.

‘None, kid. I’m trying to impress the lady here.’

The boy grinned as he pocketed the cash, the flush of pleasure on his face more than worth the money. ‘Yes, sir, and thank you, sir. That’s the biggest tip I’ve had all night.’

‘I’ll bet,’ he replied. ‘Working service jobs for rich folks never tips as good as it should—am I right?’

‘It does now, sir,’ the boy said, still grinning as he saluted him before heading off to deal with another couple who had just arrived in the parking lot.

‘That was very generous of you,’ Cassandra remarked.

‘Like I said, I was trying to impress you,’ he replied, and her gaze was so rich with appreciation it suddenly didn’t feel like a joke any more.

‘You succeeded,’ she said, but then she tilted her head to one side and added, ‘But that’s not why you did it. You enjoyed putting that smile on his face. Did you work a lot of service jobs before you founded Broussard Tech?’

It was a probing question—the kind he usually avoided answering. He never talked about his past. He also didn’t much like being figured out so easily. Since when had he become so transparent? But, even so, her expression—perceptive but also impressed—had the truth coming out.

‘My fair share. And my takeaway was, the richer the customer, the more invisible you become.’

‘But not to you?’

He hesitated, taken aback not just by the appreciation in her voice, but by the way it made him feel. His heart pulsed too hard in his chest. He braced himself against the uncomfortable sensation.

Time to get this seduction back on track. He didn’t need to impress her—he just needed to persuade her to get on the bike. Hot and giddy was what he wanted...sincere and genuine not so much.

He unbuckled the bike’s saddlebag and pulled out the helmets. ‘Here you go,’ he said as he offered her one.

She tucked her bottom lip under her teeth, sending another jolt of heat straight through him.

‘I really don’t think I can... I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before. Isn’t it dangerous?’

Yeah, but not in the way you think.

‘That’s all part of the rush,’ he said.

She still looked unsure, her hands clasped behind her back as if she were determined not to take the bait, however much she might want to.

Inspiration struck.

‘How about we try this?’ he said, then plucked the pins out of her hair.

‘Oh!’ Her hands flew up to save her hairdo, but it was already too late, and the fragrant mass was tumbling down over her bare shoulders.

He laughed. ‘How about, if you come for a ride on my bike, I do something I’ve never done before, too?’

She frowned, her confused expression only making her more adorable.

‘Well, I don’t see how that’s going to work. I bet there isn’t anything you’ve never done.’

Smart girl.

‘Not true.’ He stifled a chuckle as he racked his brains to think of something that would work. ‘I’ve never let a lady ride on my bike before. How about that?’

‘Really?’she said, and he could see the astonishment in her eyes, and then the pleasure.

The reaction should have made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like to give a woman the impression she was special or different, because it might lead to misunderstandings. But the truth was he’d never wanted a woman on the back of his bike before now.

He got a kick out of riding the vintage machine through the city solo whenever he was in town. He’d always been a loner. But wanting to share it with her didn’t have to mean anything. He needed to kick her out of her comfort zone, so he had no problem taking a small step outside his own.

‘Yeah, really,’ he confirmed. ‘You’ll be my first passenger.’

The emotion on her face made his heartbeat uneven as he waited for her answer.

‘Okay, you’re on,’ she said, with a determined expression which was half-excitement and half-terror. ‘Give me the helmet,’ she added, holding out her hand.

‘Let me,’ he said, scooping her chestnut locks into his fist, no longer able to resist the desire to touch her. Her hair whispered against his palm, soft and silky, but he had to let it go after he’d placed the helmet on her head, to clip the chin buckle and adjust the straps for a snug fit.

‘I bet I look completely ridiculous,’ she said as he put on his own helmet.

‘Not at all,’ he said, stifling the urge to kiss her.

He needed to take this slow. He knew anything worth having was worth working for. And Cassandra James definitely ticked that box.

The sea breeze fluttered the ends of her hair peeking out from underneath the helmet and she shivered. He shrugged out of his tux jacket and placed it over her bare shoulders. ‘Here, put this on—it might get chilly.’

She wasn’t a short woman, but even so his jacket engulfed her. Sadly, it covered up her magnificent breasts in that clingy material, but he forced himself not to sulk. If his luck held tonight, and their chemistry proved as strong as it seemed, he would get a much better look soon enough.

‘Now I know I look ridiculous,’ she said, rolling up the sleeves. ‘But thank you.’

He climbed aboard the bike, adjusted the throttle and kick-started the engine.

She jumped and he grinned. ‘Don’t worry. I promise it won’t bite.’

Even if I do.

‘I don’t even know how to mount it,’ she said, all practical as she chewed off the last of her lipstick.

He had to force his gaze off her reddened bottom lip and ignore the swift kick to his gut.

Whoa, buster, no dirty thoughts while driving or you’ll wipe out.

‘Gather your gown up,’ he said, ‘and tuck it under your knees when you get seated. We don’t want it snagging on anything. There’s a pedal there to stand on and mount up.’

She nodded, her frown making his lust kick again. He was treated to an impressive display of long, toned thigh before she put one foot on the pedal and flung her other leg over the bike. Grasping his shoulders, she bounced up behind him.

‘Hang on tight,’ he said, and her slender arms banded around his waist.

Her soft breasts flattened against his back, and the kick burned down to his crotch. Heck, he needed to get his response under control, or this ride was going to be torture.

Her helmet clicked the back of his.

‘Oops, sorry,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you want to do this? I’m a complete novice.’

Her thighs hugged his butt, and it was all he could do not to weep.

‘Positive,’ he groaned.

Revving the engine, he settled his hand on her bare knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze—then he let her go, before the sizzle against his palm could add to the torture.

‘Just remember to lean with me on the turns. I’ll take it slow at first, until you get the hang of it. If there’s a problem, yell.’

Her helmet clicked his again as she nodded.

‘All set, cher?’ he asked.

‘As I’ll ever be,’ she yelled, above the rumble of the bike’s engine.

He peeled the bike away from the kerb and heard her shocked gasp, felt her breath hot against his nape, her arms locking tighter around his waist.

The grin that split his face as they headed down the street made him wonder why the heck he hadn’t thought of taking a woman for a ride on his bike before now.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ she said, as she clung on and he whipped around the traffic on Lincoln Way.

She tightened her grip again when he hung a left on Clayton. Her intoxicating scent mixed with the aroma of exhaust fumes and stale weed as he slowed the bike to a crawl to turn at the busy intersection into Haight Street.

‘This is Haight-Ashbury!’ he yelled over his shoulder. ‘Where the tourists come to celebrate the Summer of Love a half-century too late.’

She giggled, the light musical sound floating on the night air. ‘I feel like I should start singing a Bob Dylan song!’ she shouted back.

He laughed as a shiver of sensation shot down his spine. And suddenly he knew why he’d never offered another woman a ride on his bike. Because no woman had ever captivated him the way she had.

And he hadn’t even tasted her yet.

Cassie caught her breath as they entered the old hippie neighbourhood she’d read about in a guidebook on the plane but never imagined she’d have a chance to visit. Neon signs announced tattoo parlours, thrift stores and record shops, while young people spilled out of bars and restaurants dressed in a rainbow of psychedelic colours.

She absorbed every detail, astonished that even fifty-plus years after its heyday the area could still seem edgy and exciting. But as the muscles in Luke’s back tensed, she wondered if that edgy feeling came from the neighbourhood or simply from the thrill of being on Luke Broussard’s bike as they rode through Haight-Ashbury.

Unlike Ashling, she’d never been the cool girl at school, or anywhere else for that matter, but she felt like the cool girl now. For one night only.

As they left the born-again hippies of Haight-Ashbury behind, the bike climbed up a hill that cut through a lush, surprisingly untamed park.

Luke slowed the bike to a stop when they reached the top and pulled off his helmet, then glanced over his shoulder. ‘Hop off. I’ve got something to show you.’

‘Okay...’ She scrambled off the bike. Her pulse started to pound again as he unclipped her helmet and hooked it over the bike handles with his own.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘You’ll see,’ he said, sending her a sultry smile that had all her pheromones going haywire again. How did he do that? Was the guy a sex whisperer, or something? Because she’d never felt this giddy before in her entire life.

She stored the thought away as he gripped her hand and led her past a sign that announced the park as the oldest in San Francisco. They took a path that led into the greenery.

‘Should you leave the helmets on the bike like that? Won’t they get stolen?’ she asked, trying to find some semblance of her usual practicality.

He sent her a wry grin, as if she’d said something cute, then shrugged. ‘We won’t be long—but anyhow I’ve got others.’

Well, of course he has. The man’s a billionaire, Cassie, for goodness’ sake.

She tried not to fixate on the heat now running riot through her body as they reached a clearing. Then he gripped her shoulders, stood behind her and twisted her round.

‘Check that out,’ he said.

But her breath had already caught in her lungs.

The city was laid out before them in a carpet of lights, just starting to wink on as night fell. The staggering view spread across the dark expanse of the bay, where the white lights of the Golden Gate Bridge shone like a runway leading to the opposite shore.

‘Wow!’ she murmured, so awed and humbled that all she could feel was the clamour of her heartbeat in her throat. ‘It’s so beautiful. You must adore living here,’ she managed, desperately trying to keep talking to curtail the foolish spurt of emotion.

No man had ever shown her something so magnificent. And she’d only just met him.

But why had he?

‘I don’t live in the city,’ he said, his voice so low and husky she could feel it rippling down her back and detonating in her abdomen.

‘You don’t?’ She twisted to see his face, illuminated by the glow from the sunset. ‘But why not? It’s wonderful.’

‘I keep an apartment here,’ he said. ‘But it’s not my home.’

‘Where is your home?’ she asked, suddenly desperate to know more about him. Much more. And knowing that it had nothing whatsoever to do with her report, because she’d stopped thinking about what Temple had asked her to do a thousand giddy heartbeats ago.

‘I own an island off the Oregon coast.’

He frowned, and she got the impression he hadn’t meant to tell her. But before she had a chance to worry about whether she had probed too much he took her hand again and led her back down the path they’d just climbed.

‘Where are we going now?’ she asked, feeling like a child—carefree and excited—which was rather ironic, given that as a child she’d always been the opposite...weighed down by worries and anxiety.

‘I’ve got something else I think you’ll enjoy,’ he said, without revealing much at all.

She climbed back aboard the bike, her heartbeat skipping and jumping as he put her helmet on again. She clung to him, feeling like a pro now at leaning on the turns as they headed off into the dusk.

The bike made its way back down the hillside, winding through steep residential streets lined with San Francisco’s signature bay-fronted wooden terraced houses, eventually coming to a busy two-lane road that headed through another park.

As they travelled down towards the bay, dodging cars and lorries in the snarled evening traffic, it occurred to her that she’d never allowed herself to be led anywhere before now. But as she clung to Luke’s broad frame, and inhaled his clean, masculine scent, the thrill of rebellion intoxicated her.

Darkness descended as they entered a traffic tunnel, and when they emerged, her heartbeat slammed into her tonsils.

The Golden Gate Bridge towered above them, the lights from the evening traffic giving the magnificent steel structure an eerie red glow, silhouetted against the dying day. An eighteen-wheeler rumbled as they flew past it, and she stole a glance over her shoulder to see the city stacked like children’s building blocks on the hillside behind them.

She sheltered behind Luke’s broad back and imagined them taking flight across San Francisco Bay into the erotic dream which had blindsided her.

She wasn’t Cassandra James, smart and supremely efficient executive assistant who always kept her mind on business any more. She was Cassandra James, free spirit and all-round badass.

The journey seemed to take for ever and yet no time at all. Hills shaped like sleeping giants formed the dark shoreline ahead as the suspension bridge’s final supporting strut passed over their heads. They took a series of twists and turns off the main road, through manicured parks and down dark roads, to a marina covered in mist.

Luke parked the bike at the end of the point and the engine powered down as they sat in the darkness alone together, next to a small grove of palm trees. The light from a waterfront diner and the distant beat of dance music spilled into the quiet night.

Luke lifted off his helmet and hooked it over the handlebars, then twisted round to unclip hers.

‘Hop down,’ he said, and she suddenly wondered if she’d done something wrong, because his voice was no longer relaxed, and the playfulness had vanished from his eyes.

She had to hold on to his shoulder to get her leg over, dismounting in a tangle of gold lamé which only made her feel more self-conscious.

She stood shivering in his jacket, the warm weight of it reminding her of the heady scent which had engulfed her when he’d draped it over her shoulders what felt like a lifetime ago. On that other girl. The dull rule-follower who would never have got on a bike with a guy she’d just met in a million years.

She waited for him to dismount and tuck the helmets in the saddlebag, wrapping her arms around herself to stave off a shudder of inadequacy.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.

His head rose and his eyes flared. ‘Yeah, actually there is.’

Then, to her utter surprise, he snagged her wrist and drew her into his arms. Suddenly she was surrounded by his warmth, his heat, the heady scent of soap and man and sea water. A pulse of need throbbed viciously as his gaze raked over her and one strong hand cradled her face.

‘I want to kiss you so bad I can’t think straight...’

The husky murmur was so full of need and intensity it seemed to reverberate in her sex.

‘And I sure as hell can’t drive.’ His mouth hovered over hers and he whispered, ‘Tell me you want to kiss me too, Cassandra.’

She could have said no. Maybe should have said no. But it would have been a lie.

‘Yes.’

In less than a heartbeat his mouth found hers. The kiss was warm, firm, uncompromising. But where she would have expected him to be demanding he was coaxing...where she would have expected practised moves she got the thrill of desperation.

No man had ever kissed her before with such fervour, such yearning. His tongue delved deep, dancing with hers, licking and feasting, tasting and tantalising, until she was clinging to him even tighter and harder than she had as they’d flown across the bay.

Sensations bombarded her—all of them novel and intoxicating—and this time the weightless sensation in her stomach became swifter, sharper and more brutal, the longing so real and vivid it was painful.

He tore his mouth away first, then opened the lapels of his jacket to wrap his arms around her waist and draw her against his body. The insistent edge of his erection pressed into her belly through their clothing. But what would once have shocked her only excited her more.

Why did this feel so right? So new and exciting? Why did tonight feel like a night out of time? Was it the jet lag? That one Aperol Spritz and those few sips of champagne? The tour of the city? The beauty of that magnificent view and the wild ride that had followed? Or was it simply the heady feeling of being wanted so desperately and knowing she wanted with the same urgency in return?

‘My seaplane’s docked here. I can call you a cab back to your hotel, or you can come with me to Sunrise Island tonight.’

He ran his thumb down the side of her face and the whisper of sensation intensified the longing now charging through her veins.

‘One night,’ he said. ‘And I’ll bring you back tomorrow morning.’

The implication was clear. This didn’t mean more to him than slaking this raw, shocking need which had sprung from nowhere.

She stifled the foolish sting of disappointment and whispered, ‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’

‘Like what?’ he asked.

Had a one-night hook-up... Or any hook-up at all, for that matter.

The answer seemed too compromising—and embarrassing. Would he change his mind if he knew she had no experience?

‘I’ve never done something so spontaneous,’ she said, settling for a less revealing answer which was no less true.

He chuckled, that low, husky laugh she had begun to adore.

‘Then you’re way overdue, cher.’

He lifted her hand to his mouth, spread open her fingers and bit gently into the swell of flesh beneath her thumb. The sharp nip sent sensation tearing through the last of her self-control.

Her fingertips skimmed the rough stubble on his jaw as his gaze locked on hers, dark with desire.

‘If we do it right,’ he said, ‘the only consequence will be bon temps. Good times. I swear.’ His gaze remained locked on hers. ‘And I know we’re gonna do it right.’

Before she could give herself too long to think—to plan or regret or become that dull rule-follower again—she nodded. ‘I’d love to go with you.’

‘Good,’ he said, and excitement dropped like a stealth bomb into her heart.