Several strands of curly hair had escaped from her braid. They fluttered by her face and touched the top of her shoulder. Sometime in the afternoon she’d rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, exposing wrists and forearms. She had curves. Evie’s assessment had been that she was average. Dylan wasn’t sure what he thought of Molly. She wasn’t what he was used to in a woman. Okay, so no one would ever call her beautiful, but in this light, gesturing as she talked and smiling, she was sort of pretty. She had a sincerity he liked. Molly was a genuine person—he didn’t know many people he could say that about these days.
“Are you concerned the price is too high?” she asked. “Are you thinking that you’ve been forced to give up too much to get what you wanted?”
She saw way more than he was comfortable with.
“Too much serious conversation,” he said lightly, and rose to his feet. “If you looked in the refrigerator, you know I don’t have food around. How do you feel about pizza for dinner?”
“Sounds fine.”
“I know a great place that delivers. What would you like on it?”
“Anything.” She stood up, as well. “Do you want me to call?”
“No, I have the number memorized. Single guy who lives alone—no surprise there, right? I’m going to put on jeans and call the pizza place. Then I need to get started on my work.”
Molly held up her book. “Don’t worry about entertaining me. I’ll be fine.”
“I appreciate that. I don’t want this stuff hanging over me while we’re away.” He started for the door, then remembered something. “I’d like to leave about noon tomorrow. I thought we’d go to your place on our way out of town so you can drop off your car. Otherwise you’ll have to come by here when we get back and that’ll be nearly an hour out of your way.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “So we’re not heading east?”
If they were, leaving her car here would make more sense.
“Nope, but that’s all I’m going to say.”
“I think I like the idea of a pleasant surprise,” she told him.
They chatted for a couple more minutes, then he left the library and made his way to his bedroom. The guest room was at the other end of the hall. He’d forgotten to ask Molly if she’d found everything she needed. So much for being a good host. But when he returned to the library, she was gone. He ordered their pizza, collected his briefcase and started to work.
About a half hour later, there was a faint knock on the door. He called an absentminded, “Come in” but didn’t look up from the computer.
“Dinner’s here,” Molly told him. She placed a large plate with several slices of steaming pizza in front of him, along with a fresh beer. Before he could do more than thank her, she was gone.
Dylan stared at the closed door, torn between work and curiosity. Then he figured he’d better get back to his spreadsheet and turned his attention back to his papers.
* * *
It was nearly 1:30 p.m. the next afternoon when Molly closed the front door of her condo behind her. She could see through the courtyard to the street, where Dylan waited for her. She’d parked her car, taken in her big suitcase and checked for messages. Now she was ready to begin.
Her stomach tightened with excitement and a little bit of nerves. For a second she thought about calling the whole thing off. After all, she barely knew the man. What on earth had she been thinking when she’d asked him to take her on an adventure?
“I’m not going to back out now,” she said softly. “If I do, I’ll be stuck on my own. I refuse to spend the next two weeks waiting for the phone to ring.”
That resolved, she squared her shoulders and walked to the front of the building.
When Dylan saw her, he straightened and grabbed the extra helmet strapped on the seat behind him. He’d already loaded her small bag of clothes and toiletries. Molly eyed the helmet, then the motorcycle, and had another bout of second thoughts.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Dylan said, coming up to her and handing her the helmet. “My bike is perfectly safe. I’ve been driving it for years, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Oddly enough, my physical safety doesn’t concern me,” she said lightly. “I was questioning my mental stability. This is completely insane. Or haven’t you figured that out?”
He pulled the helmet over her head and fastened the strap under her chin. “Then we’re both crazy, because I agreed to this, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Hey, that’s supposed to make you feel better.”
Barefoot, Dylan was a good eight or nine inches taller than her. In his boots, he towered over her. As she met his dark gaze, something shifted inside. A feeling, more a shot of heat than sizzle, but it certainly got her attention. Awareness, she thought. Of the man he was. At twenty Dylan had been a charmer. All grown up in his thirties, he was irresistible.
Talk about being silly, Molly thought. Finding Dylan attractive was about as useful as using a teaspoon to shovel your way out of an avalanche. Still, he would be a distraction. As long as she didn’t get carried away, she would be fine.
“You have everything?” he asked. “I didn’t really expect you to fit all your stuff in that one bag, so left a little room in mine.”
“I can follow directions,” she told him. “Don’t worry about me. I have everything I need.”
For reasons that still didn’t make sense, she’d even repacked the ring. She wanted it close. Maybe as a talisman against all that had happened.
“Then let’s get going,” he said, and handed her a leather jacket. “This will be a little big, but you’ll need it to stay warm. The breeze gets pretty stiff on the bike.”
He helped her into the jacket, then fastened it. His ministrations made her feel like a child. It was probably how he thought of her, but she wasn’t going to complain. For once, it was nice having someone take care of her.
When he was done, he touched her face. “There’s still time to change your mind,” he told her.
“I could say the same thing to you.”
“Nope. I’m going.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“Great.” Dylan flashed her a quick smile that shocked her clear down to her thighs, then climbed onto the bike. He flipped down the clear plastic visor and motioned for her to get on behind him.
Molly swallowed hard. Ah, so she hadn’t thought everything through. She hadn’t really considered that being on a motorcycle with Dylan meant she would be riding behind him, touching him. Touching him in an incredibly intimate way.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
In the end she gave a strangled gargling sound, flipped down her visor and moved next to the bike. She had to maneuver her right leg over the seat, then sort of shift-slide into place. It wasn’t graceful. She felt awkward and clumsy and incredibly large as she settled onto the seat. The machine bounced with her movements.
Dylan started the bike. “You’re gonna have to hang on,” he called over the rumble of the engine. “You can stick your hands in my jacket pockets or wrap your arms around me. Whichever is more comfortable.”
“Sure,” she said, as if it were no big deal. Right. She, like millions of American women, spent most of her day on a bike behind a guy, touching him, pressing up against him, feeling—
The bike moved forward. Molly yelped