Sensual Secrets. Jo Leigh
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horribly painful.
She logged on with shaking fingers and went to her journal site. She’d have to buy a floppy disk, which meant she’d have to talk to Brian again. Not yet. Not until she pulled herself together.
The front door opened, and all hope of composure fled. Jay walked inside. Her heart fluttered, her stomach clenched, her cheeks reheated, and if she could have crawled into the disk drive of her computer, she would have. What had she been thinking? And why did she want him so badly? She closed her eyes, praying for Jay to ignore her.
“Amelia.”
So much for prayers. She opened her eyes but she didn’t look at him. “What—” She cleared her throat. “What can I do for you?”
He didn’t answer, and finally she gave in and looked up at him. His face was a mask of concern. As if he cared. Right.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“Whoa. It must be bad.” He snagged a chair from against the wall and brought it right next to hers. “Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
He sighed. “Okay. Have it your way.”
“I intend to.”
“But, surely you won’t mind if I talk.”
“Actually I have to—”
“I’ve just got this question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
She didn’t want to know the question. She didn’t want to feel this way just because he was near.
He leaned over and put his hand on her arm. His touch set off electrical charges that shot up and down her body. And it was only three fingers.
“I was wondering,” he said, his voice much softer, huskier, than a moment ago, “if you’ve ever been on a Harley.”
“Pardon me?”
“A Harley-Davidson. It’s a motorcycle—”
“I know what it is.” She turned on him, her confusion overriding her embarrassment. “Why would you ask me that?”
He smiled that cocky grin she loved and hated. “I want to take you for a ride.”
She opened her mouth, but, as was becoming something of a pattern, nothing came out.
“I see you on my bike. Your arms wrapped around my waist. I see you gripping the seat between your legs, feeling the vibrations. You’d like the wind, Amelia.”
He scooted his chair closer, and the hand on her arm gripped her more tightly. She was incapable of turning away. His gaze had her rooted to the spot, his intensity blocking out the rest of the world. “I dreamt it. We’re supposed to do this. We’re supposed to take that ride.”
She swallowed as she tried to calm her thundering heart. Either she was nuts, or he was. Because, oh my God, she’d dreamt the exact same thing.
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