“I can’t.” Her lower lip jutted out in disappointment.
He barely managed to leash his primal urges. This wasn’t the time to introduce her to Caveman Duncan.
“I have to take Apollo home.” She grinned, impish and adorable. “Unless you’re hiding a doggy side car somewhere.”
“Uh, no.”
Her smile slipped a little and her gaze drifted back to his motorcycle.
“You like motorcycles?”
“Oh, yeah.”
The husky way she spoke had his body stomping with impatience at the gate. Damn. A glass of chipped ice would come in handy about now…to dump down the front of his pants. “How about I swing by your condo in an hour? We can go for a ride and grab dinner.”
“I would love that. Thank you.” She snagged Apollo’s leash off the grass and scrambled to her feet. “I’d better run if I’m going to be ready on time. See you soon.”
She waved and started across the expanse of grass. Matt stood rooted, mesmerized by the way her jeans cupped her swaying bottom. She turned and he jerked his gaze to her face, guilty as a horny teenager caught ogling a Playboy magazine.
“Do you remember where I live?”
He grinned.
“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “You have a photographic memory.”
With another jaunty wave, she spun on her heel. Putting his photographic memory to its best use in years, he memorized the way her hips rocked until she disappeared around a curve in the Greenbelt. Shaking off his hormone-induced stupor, Matt headed for his bike. He settled in the seat with a grimace.
Several hours of similar agony loomed in his future. With her wrapped around him like a second skin, riding behind him on the Harley, he didn’t have a prayer of controlling his body. He didn’t care. The pleasure of feeling her against him and the delight of her company would be worth it.
He straddled the bike, pulled his helmet on and gunned the engine. He had a few things to do before heading to Grace’s condo.
Grace let herself into her condo, collapsed against the door then half a second later pushed upright and exited the condo again. She pounded her fist on Lisie’s door, chewing on the inside of her lip, gaze repeatedly skipping toward the stairs Matt would soon climb.
The door jerked inward by a rather irate-looking Lisie, her fist planted on her hip and dark eyes blazing. “Where’s da fire, sug?”
“I’m going out with my boss.”
“Ooooh!” Lisie rubbed her hands together, shrugged out of her paint smock and followed Grace back to her place. “Watcha gonna wear?”
“Clothes?” Grace rushed into her bedroom, unbuttoning her jeans and yanking off her T-shirt. They landed in her hamper as she passed into the en suite bathroom.
The cool tile underfoot and the sea-green-and-blue color scheme calmed her. She’d spent her first weekend painting and decorating the condo. All her years moving to different foster homes had taught her how to quickly make a space feel like home. She had more resources these days, but the goal stayed the same.
She shook her head over the way she’d bolted as soon as she’d rounded the corner and escaped the heat of Matt’s gaze. Good thing she stayed in shape, or she’d never have made it to her building. Apollo loped easily at her side for the entire three-quarter mile––show-off.
Not taking the time to visit with Mrs. Freeman when she dropped him off made her feel guilty. She’d promised to stop by tomorrow after church to make up for it.
Grace splashed water on her cheeks. The cold sting helped. Exertion, desire, and anticipation hummed through her body.
“How long since ya been on a date?”
Frowning, she turned. Lisie lounged against the bathroom doorframe, examining her lethally long, meticulously manicured fingernails. “Is it a date?”
One eyebrow arched. “You tell me, cher.”
She pictured Matt standing in the park. Arms crossed, jacket straining across his broad shoulders, legs spread and denim hugging thick muscles. His casual clothes revealed a physique she never would have suspected lurked within his polite business suits. From the unapologetically masculine black leather to the gleaming chrome Harley beast, there’d been nothing polite about him today. Heaven help her, she got damp just thinking about it.
“If it isn’t a date, someone should alert my hormones.”
Lisie grinned. “Dere ya go. Is a date.”
“Hmm…” It had to be politically incorrect to want to jump her boss, even if he’d indulged in a few carnal thoughts of his own. The strain on his poor zipper would have been obvious to a blind man. She deserved a medal for not staring.
Her shiver had nothing to do with cool tiles or chilly water. He was uber-delish, business savvy, street smart and had a wicked sense of humor. With the speed of a woman who’d worked in a beauty salon through college, she went from day-off to date-night in minutes. She amped up her makeup, brushed her hair, added a few curls, then spritzed with a yummy-smelling hairspray.
In her bedroom, she refreshed her deodorant and perfume. Then she hurried into the spacious walk-in closet. Her clothes lay scattered on the floor. The wood hangers dangled on the rod, empty. She blindly reached for the wall for support. Chills crawled over her skin. Not again.
Grace backed out and stared at her bedroom. Nothing looked out of place. Yet every scrap of clothing that had been hanging in her closet, organized by color and style with OCD precision, lay on the floor.
“Cher, wha’s wrong?”
Trembling, she waved at her closet. Lisie scrambled off the middle of her bed, where she’d made herself comfy. Grace rubbed her arms and approached her dresser. She stared at the drawers, afraid to open them. Fast, like a Band-Aid. She yanked open the first drawer. Then the next and the next and the next.
The drawers were undisturbed. Her socks were still tucked in place, alongside her neatly folded panties. Each drawer was just as it had been when she’d left that morning. Staying a good five feet back, just in case, she peeked under the big bed.
Nothing. It didn’t make any sense. Any more so than the incident on Tuesday.
“Saints above.” Lisie crossed herself. “Ya best pack a valise and come stay with me.”
Grace blinked. “A what?”
“A…suitcase, y’all call it.”
She shook her head and walked through the rest of her condo. Running away wasn’t an option. Her laptop sat in its usual place atop the pretty desk she’d picked up at an antique store several years ago. The flat-screen TV was untouched, as were her stereo and other components. Everything was fine. In its place, neat and orderly. The fan circled lazily overhead. Goose bumps broke out across her skin. Someone rapped on her front door and she jumped.
“Sweet baby cherubs.”
She pressed a hand to her galloping heart then whipped around in search of a weapon. Throw pillows, delicate hand-blown glass bowl, dainty lamp. Damnit. Why hadn’t she decorated with anything heavy? Or sharp and pointy? She grabbed her cordless handset and approached the door as another knock sounded.
Lisie wrapped an arm around her waist, patting her. “Calm down, sug. I don’t think da bad man would knock. Is likely da hotness ya call ‘boss.’”
“Grace?”
Holy