Real Romance - By Ginny Baird Page 0,13

by bike."

Marie gasped and brought her hands to her cheeks, staring down at her short cashmere dress.

"Don't worry," he said, throwing her a wink. "You'll be riding on back. I won't see a thing.

"Say," he said, shooting a glance at the bookstore. "Isn't there someone you need to call?"

"Call?" Marie asked, still wondering how she was going to modestly lift her leg over the high bar of that man's bicycle.

" Fiancé, maybe?" David said, feeling he had to ask.

Okay, he told himself, let's get this all out in the open. Acknowledge what you know. Woo her in a gentlemanly fashion. Then, after she's had a glass of wine—or two—ask her how serious she is about this guy, anyway.

"No," Marie said, giving a little cough. "No one to call.

"Now," she asked, buttoning up her lambs wool coat. "How do I mount this thing?"

David took a deep breath and strapped his backpack to a rack above the rear wheel. He wasn't altogether sure he'd be able to pedal straight with her riding his seat, her cushiony bosom pressed up against his back...

He felt his ears go tingly and knew he was reddening from the neck up.

"Here," he said, swinging his leg over the bike, "let me get on first, then I'll help you."

David steadied himself above the bar, then turned to look at her.

"Just hang on to my shoulders and hop on. The seat's all yours. I'll ride standing."

"Standing?" Marie asked, settling her rump on the hard leather seat and doing her best to tug down her creeping hemline. "Then how will I—"

But her words were lost in a rush of wind, as David lifted his lean hips and started to pedal.

David picked up speed and wheeled out of the parking lot, heading north.

Marie found herself clinging on for dear life to—of all things—David's rear end. She tried to center her hands on his undulating hips, but they kept slipping forward as he increased his movement with the speed of the bike. Oh my, she thought as the fingers of her right hand cupped around something hard in his jeans pocket.

She jerked her hands up to his waistline, but the bike wheels met the stones of an old dirt road and her left hand mistakenly traveled down his rock-hard thigh.

"Marie, sweetheart"—David grinned as he peered over his shoulder—"maybe we should wait until we get where we're going."

Her face burned as hot as three-alarm chili. Oh my God, he thought she was attacking him!

"Where are we going?" she yelled above the cross-winds.

Marie slipped her hands under his parka and grabbed for the waistband of his jeans, digging her thumbs under his leather belt. There, she thought, gripping his hips with splayed fingers. Now everything would stay put.

Well, well, David thought, grinning to himself. He was enjoying this ride even more than he thought he would. He'd been right about Marie. Right from the start. They had chemistry together, her fiancé be damned.

He shifted gears and brought the bike to a moderate crawl.

"Almost there," he told her, wondering why she had stopped doing what she'd been doing. Well, there'd be plenty of time for that. Plenty of time to allow those lovely fingers to explore.

David steered his bike into a clearing by a group of pines. Ahead of them, the quiet waters of Grassy Creek glimmered in the fading light, catching a purplish reflection of the distant mountains.

"A picnic?" Marie asked, as David dismounted and helped her get off the bike. Despite the fact that she'd lived here all her life, places like this were breathtaking still.

The breeze picked up and Marie huddled her arms around herself for warmth.

"Too chilly for you?" David asked, heating her with his smile.

"No, I'll be all right," she said, poking at the backpack he was carrying. "What's cooking?"

"Well," he said, looking around, then settling on a spot not too far from the water."How do submarine sandwiches and wine sound?"

Marie heaved a sigh, grateful he hadn't decided on one of those fat-free tofu dinners Cecil had been so fond of.

"Perfect," she said, grabbing one end of the red plaid blanket and helping David stretch it flat on the ground. Maybe, just maybe, this would go well.

"Marie," David said, uncorking the bottle as she decided where to put the knees that insisted on sneaking out of her too-short-for-a-picnic length dress. "I hope you're not getting the wrong impression from all of this."

She blinked hard, thinking she couldn't have heard him correctly. This was a date, right? A romantic waterside picnic