Gripping the strap of her purse as if it alone could save her, she said, “Don’t you have a car, like normal doctors?”
“Since when have I ever done things that others deem ‘normal’?”
Was he referring to his parents? They’d always disapproved of Brad’s motorcycle riding, although she’d never heard them say anything outright. But she’d overheard Jason talking to their mom and dad once about how Brad felt more at home at their house than at his own. Jason had said he could see why. Brad’s folks were a matched set—snooty, looking down their noses at anything that didn’t meet with their approval. Their own son was high on that list, evidently, since they looked right through him, instead of at him.
Chloe hesitated. Yes, Brad knew she was afraid of motorcycles, especially after she’d seen the damage done by his accident. But did she really want him to put her in the same category as his parents … thinking she was too good to be seen riding on one?
His gaze slid across her cheeks. Touched lower. “I’ll take good care of you, Chloe. I give you my word.” He balanced the helmet on his leg again then reached out his hand, palm up.
She licked her lips, then, as if hypnotized, she put her fingers in his and let him tug her a few steps closer until his knee touched the side of her thigh. Another shiver went through her, this one having nothing to do with fear but something even worse.
Could she really ride on that thing, behind him? She’d balked once before. Not just because of her fear but because of how unpredictable her reactions to him were. And the feeling that she’d be betraying Travis if she let her guard down, even for a second.
Knowing what she did now, that naïve sentiment was laughable.
Travis was no longer a part of her life, and he never would be again. So shouldn’t she get out and see exactly what she’d been missing?
But … on a motorcycle?
Why the hell not?
Lifting her chin, she grabbed the helmet from his leg, turned it round and jammed it on her head. The sense of claustrophobia was immediate, as was the urge to claw the thing back off again.
It’s supposed to cradle your head, dummy, how else is it going to protect you?
Maybe he noticed her panic because Brad put down the kickstand and hauled the bike back onto it, before swinging his leg over the seat and standing in front of her. Placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him, he took hold of the straps on either side of the helmet and fastened them, adjusting the fit, his warm fingers grazing her throat repeatedly. He pushed her visor up and tilted her head so he could peer in at her. “How does it feel?”
Oh, baby. Did he mean the helmet or his touch?
Don’t be ridiculous. Of course he’s talking about the helmet.
“Tight. Hot.”
His Adam’s apple dipped, and he stared at her for a moment, before answering. “It’s supposed to be snug.”
His voice was a little rougher than it had been a moment ago. Had she said something stupid? Or maybe he was having second thoughts about riding with her. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
He gave a low laugh. “I thought so up until a few seconds ago.”
“How long will it take to reach the hospital?”
“Depending on traffic, about fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
He nodded, handing her the second jacket and waiting until she’d zipped it up. His warm scent clung to the leather, and it was all she could do not to close her eyes and breathe it deep into her lungs. The fact that it was there, surrounding her, gave her a dose of courage that had been sorely missing a few seconds ago. He’d promised to take care of her, and Brad had never gone back on a promise that she knew of.
Getting back on the motorcycle, Brad pushed it forward and eased up the kickstand. “There are footrests just behind mine. So climb up and hang on.”
Tightening her resolve, she walked the couple of steps it took to reach him then steadied herself by putting a hand on his shoulder. Pretending she was mounting a horse, she swung her leg over the back of the seat, trying to sit as far back as possible—which proved impossible. The thing was angled so that she slid forward until her tummy was pancaked against his back.
This was going to be the longest fifteen minutes of her life.
“Can you hear me?” The low voice in her ear made her jerk, until she realized it was coming through her helmet. Brad must have some kind of built-in walkie-talkie system that let him communicate with whoever was on the back.
He’d ridden double like this before. Often enough to buy special helmets. Why did the thought make a warning hiss go off in her head?
“Chloe?”
She forced her lips to move. “I can hear you.”
“There should be a mike below the strap. Swing it up to the front.”
Finding a hard plastic object coming off the side of the helmet, she adjusted it so that it was in front of her mouth. “Better?”
“Yep.” He rolled the motorcycle forward a few feet and Chloe scrambled to put her hands on his waist. “When we start moving, you’re going to want to hang on tighter than that, okay?”
Tighter than she already was? She felt like her fingers were digging into the firm muscles of his sides as it was. “Got it.”
Feeling around for the footrests, she planted her feet on them, just as Brad turned a key and the motorcycle rumbled to life beneath her. With the helmet on, it wasn’t nearly as loud as she’d expected it to be.
“Okay. When the garage door opens, we’ll be on our way. Keep your feet up, even at stops, and lean into the turns.”
“Check.” She couldn’t stop a little giggle. She knew he had to instruct her on how to ride, but she’d never dreamed that three days after her disastrous trip to Travis’s hotel room she’d be on her way to a new job and the start of a new life. Even the shuddery fear she felt about riding with Brad couldn’t erase her elation. This was the right decision. She felt it in her bones.
The garage door to the apartment building slid up, and Brad revved the engine and rolled through them at a reasonable speed. Nothing like the showy skids and hot-dogging he’d once done to impress the high-school girls. Still, her heart jumped into her throat as he turned left and entered the morning snarl of traffic—the sounds of car engines and buses periodically rupturing the bubble of silence created by her helmet.
On the first real turn she instinctively wrapped her arms around Brad’s waist, realizing he was right. She needed to hold on and try to lean when he did. The best way to do that was to be physically connected to him, in much the same way as she’d moved with the horse she’d had years ago. Her hips slid forward even more, pressing intimately against him, her thighs squeezing his in order to maintain her balance. Every inch of her was aware of every inch of him. At first she put it down to basic survival instinct, but that weird tingle down low had nothing to do with survival.
Then Brad turned another corner, wiping away every thought except hanging on, probably much tighter than necessary.
During the first few minutes she was too afraid to move, but once she got used to the vibration from the engine beneath her and the easy way Brad handled the big bike, she began to loosen up a bit and enjoy the ride.
They stopped for a red light. Brad’s feet hit the ground to keep them stable, and Chloe drew in a deep breath, noticing the claustrophobia she’d felt earlier was almost gone.
“You okay back there?”
“So