He itched to know what made her tick. Why did she like minivans? Why didn't she speak to her mother? Why did she so vehemently deny the sexual chemistry simmering between them?
He spent most of his days bewitched by her mouth. Staring at it, remembering its honey-hot taste, he was always a hair away from locking out the crowd again to dive in for another sample. But even partly aroused, he dredged up enough good sense to keep clear of her. He couldn't afford the complication - especially not when he was married to it. Sex and Kitty were two subjects he was determined to keep separate for the rest of his stay in Hot Water.
But as he leaned into the next curve, he caught sight in the distance of a slender figure walking along the road toward him. Shit. Separating himself from Kitty didn't seem possible. He eased to the narrow shoulder and braked.
Head down, she strode along the edge of the road in her heavy sandals and cut-off overalls. His gut tightened. The overalls - with nothing beneath. No! As she drew nearer, his reeling mind registered the presence of a pinkish, skinny-strapped tank top and he breathed again.
Her head lifted, as if she scented danger, and she almost tripped in her haste to stop when she spied him.
Yeah, he thought. Beware, honey. He unclipped his helmet and lifted it from his head, then shook his hair free.
She started walking again.
He waited to speak until she was abreast of him. "I don't suppose this is a pleasure walk. You're pretty far from town."
Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but tendrils of it were plastered to her sweaty forehead. She scowled at him. "I'm in a very bad mood."
"I can see that." He wished the sweat or the scowl made her less tempting. He also wished her ill temper didn't tick him off, because for some unfathomable reason he'd been almost stupidly pleased to see her. "Kemper's Market out of butter pecan ice cream?"
Her scowl deepened. "I need a ride." She dangled what looked like a broken fan belt in front of his face. "Unless you happen to have a spare on you?"
He shook his head. "Where were you headed?"
"Before the fan belt broke, I was out for a mind-clearing drive. After that, the Wal-Mart in Colter," she said, naming the larger town a few miles south.
He frowned. "Jesus Christ, Kitty. Did you think you were going to walk the whole way?"
She rolled her eyes. "Since I left my wings in my other pants, yes. Colter is closer than hiking back to Hot Water."
"Speaking of pants..." He had no idea why he wanted to. Except that her legs were long and bare and her skin was creamy-smooth. "You're, uh, not dressed for a motorcycle ride."
It was the best he could come up with.
"Fine." She started trudging past him.
"Sheesh." He grabbed her arm. "You are in a bad mood."
She glowered. "I warned you."
"Want to talk about it?" The words just slipped out of his mouth.
"No."
"Good." The instant rebuff didn't offend Dylan in the slightest and had nothing to do with why he bit out, "Get the hell on," then scooted forward on the leather seat and handed his helmet to Kitty.
She couldn't get the thing buckled. After a few minutes of watching her struggle, all the while sucking in her sweet, full lower lip, he cursed at her once more and took care of it himself.
"Get on," he said again.
With a hand braced on his shoulder, she gingerly lifted one leg to swing it over the Harley's bulk. The ragged hem of her shorts slid high, and he saw the long inner muscle of her thigh flex from knee to near crotch.
Jesus.
Seated with her feet on the passenger pegs, she curled her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. There had to be eight miles of air between them. "I guess I'm ready," she said.
He sighed. Then he reached behind him and flattened his palm against the small of her back. Without a word, he hauled her forward, gluing her front to his back.
The helmet thumped the back of his skull. She squeaked in his ear.
He had the first instant hard-on of his life.
"Wrap your arms around my waist," he said, once he could talk.
As she moved to obey, he made sure to grab both her wrists and guide her arms high enough on his torso to avoid her detection of his altered state. "Right there." His