Bedding The Biker Next Door (2 page)

And his only family was dead.

Unwillingly, the memory of the torn letter in his kitchen flickered through his mind and—

“Damn it!”

Leaving the bedroom, he grabbed his helmet and the keys to his Harley Sportster 883, parked inside his apartment complex garage. He’d take a drive to clear his head.

Five minutes later, he was speeding down the highway, his bike rumbling beneath him in a way that never failed to make him feel at ease. The air felt cool and refreshing, even more so the closer he got to the beach. About an hour later, he recognized the turnoff to his mother’s house and veered left. In minutes, he was parked out front but didn’t get off his bike.

The house was a three-bedroom ranch-style home accented by a small oak tree in the grassy front yard. At one point it had been painted yellow, but now, it barely reflected a pale cream. He’d been meaning to take care of that for his mom but never got around to hiring a painter. The grass had grown tall with a few bursts of feathery weeds sprouting out. For a woman who’d once loved to garden as much as she had, who loved a clean, she’d have been mortified to see it this way.

He hadn’t set foot in her house since she died, not even after her funeral. He knew it was stupid, but part of him felt if he avoided going inside, it would be like she wasn’t really gone.

He glanced at the house next door, the one his mother owned and rented out. She’d be happy to know it was being carefully kept. Since he’d last seen it, someone had added white shutters to the ’70s style jalousie windows and a gated white picket fence around the yard, giving the light gray house a magazine cover appearance. Artfully placed around the porch were terra cotta planters in all sizes, displaying a variety of cacti and bougainvillea.

Before getting sick this last time Mom had purchased her former neighbor’s home, figuring that if she rented it out, the money might become a good investment that she could use to supplement her retirement and travel the globe someday. She’d told Cole, though, that she wouldn’t rent it forever. Her secret hope was that once he was ready to marry—
after
he’d done all the traveling he’d dreamed of doing but had never gotten around to—he’d want to move in and start a family.

She’d even tried to play matchmaker between him and her tenant. A sweet girl, she’d called her. Beautiful and smart, too. Said they’d be perfect together. Cole had just hugged her and laughed it off. Wasn’t like he’d been in the market for anything permanent. He’d had enough on his plate with work and caring for his mom. He’d wanted to give her all the attention he could in the time they’d had left together. And he’d known after his mom was gone, the last thing he’d want was a committed relationship to tie him down. He’d have the freedom to do whatever he wanted. And a sweet woman who enjoyed suburban life wasn’t going to be part of the picture.

Finally, Cole started up the Harley again and pulled away from the curb. He’d come back first thing in the morning to start going through his mom’s things, he promised himself. Then he’d sell both houses and use the money to expand Frontline. It wouldn’t be easy, but right now he was just making things harder on himself.

He drove a few blocks and stopped at a red light, glancing at Metro Pub, a posh bar to his left. He’d been there before, knew it mostly catered to businessmen and women. It was nothing like Liquid Cooled, the dive Cole and his biker buddies liked to hang out in, but maybe a drink in a place filled with strangers was what his restless soul needed right now. It was worth a shot.

Cole pulled his bike into the parking lot, then walked inside, his eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness. He made his way to the bar and ordered a beer. The bartender—a young guy fresh off campus—sat the bottle in front of him and popped off the cap. Cole spun on his stool and surveyed the crowd as he took a drink.

Just as he suspected, the bar was filled with people dressed predominantly in business suits even on a Saturday night. With his leather vest, jeans, and tats on full display, he stuck out like a sore thumb, as evidenced by the awkward glances flying his way from a few patrons.

His gaze fell on two women sitting at a high table not far away. One of the women was partially blocked by two people, but he could see the one closest to him. She was probably in her mid-forties, nice-looking with light brown hair, dressed casually in jeans and a cotton tank top. Nearby, a couple of guys whooped and hollered as they played darts, their lack of coordination indicating they were well on their way to wasted.

Movement caught his eye, and he brought his gaze back around to the first high table. The people blocking it had moved, and this time, Cole got a clear look at the second woman, also dressed casually in jeans and a cap-sleeved fitted T-shirt.

He paused the bottle of beer en route to his mouth so quickly, it sloshed around inside.

She was petite and dark-haired, with big eyes. Light eyes. Not a flashy woman. In fact, some might say she was on the plain side, but that was only if you were stupid enough to discount her delicate, perfectly symmetrical features. She had prominent cheekbones and a long, graceful neck that reminded him of a ballerina, and there was something about the way she talked to her friend—her eyes bright and her hands gesturing wildly—that made him think
sweet and wild
.

Staring at her, something stirred in his chest. As if she sensed him watching, she glanced over. As their eyes connected across the room, something in Cole’s jeans stirred too, something that hadn’t stirred in a good long time. Just like that, he felt a tug low in his belly, and red-hot need surged through him. His cock twitched and came to life, throbbing in a way that made him catch his breath.

It was a good kind of breathlessness, like the exhilarating rush he experienced while surfing, riding his cruiser, or having fabulous sex. It hadn’t taken a redhead or blonde or the promise of sex in an airplane to remind him of those things, only a lovely, unassuming brunette watching him over her drink with those big, light eyes of hers.

As his body worked overtime, so did his mind—from two different points of view. One urged him not to delay—
stop wasting time and go to her, you dick
.

But another part of his brain cautioned him—
stop being ridiculous, you’re just tired
. She didn’t seem the type of woman a guy casually picked up in a bar unless he wanted more from her than one night in bed.

And he didn’t have more to give any woman right now.

Certainly not anytime soon.

Probably not ever.

He had to focus on taking care of his mom’s things. Selling the houses. Expanding his business. And maybe finding out what the fuck was going on with Eric.

That was enough for anyone to handle at the moment.

Deliberately, he turned away and signaled the bartender. He’d have one more drink. Then he’d get the hell out of there.

Chapter Two

“It will be a good investment,” Jill Jones told Liz Monroe, her friend and partner in her daycare business. “Five tablets the older kids can use for learning and the occasional game. What do you think?”

She could get a great deal on the tablets if they acted on the idea this week. It’d be good for advertising, too—daycare was extremely competitive in this part of town, and they needed every edge they could get. They were getting more and more attention for offering services above and beyond the other nearby centers, including offering flexible hours and staying open on the weekend when needed.

If a few more children enrolled, they could use the extra tuition to install more cameras and a better security system. The house she lived in was in a good neighborhood, but there had been a rash of break-ins lately and it was always best to be prepared. One step at a time toward giving her kids the best care and the attention they deserved.

“Sounds great,” Liz said, lazily sliding her fingertip over the rim of her glass. “I know the kids would love the tablets. We can deduct the cost at the end of the year, along with the wireless internet.”

“So it’s a good investment all the way around. But if even one parent is against using the technology as a learning device and reward system, we can’t offer it to the other kids. It just wouldn’t be fair.” Jill signed her credit card bill. “You ready to go?”

“Not just yet.”

Jill cocked her head. “You want another drink?”

“Nope. But if I was ten years younger, I’d order me a Tall, Dark, Tattooed and Sexy. And I’d start with Mr. TDTS sitting at the bar right now.”

Jill laughed but didn’t bother looking at the man again. She’d already taken a quick look, and he definitely wasn’t her type. Jill preferred a more clean-cut man. “Is TDTS really that much younger than you? Maybe he likes his women well-seasoned.” She put her wallet back in her purse.

Jill had met Liz Moreno in college. They’d both enrolled late in life. Liz had been forty and Jill had been twenty-one at the time. Before starting classes, Jill had worked odd jobs so she could help her mother care for her father, who’d waged a long battle against early-onset Alzheimer’s. Her father had died five years ago, and she and her mother had both known the end was near. What Jill hadn’t been prepared for was her mother dying a few months later from a heart attack. Jill had thrown herself into her studies, putting friends and fun on the back burner, graduating magna cum laude with a Bachelor’s degree in Education. Liz had returned to college after her daughter graduated high school. They’d hit it off, become friends, and started the daycare together six months ago.

“Some men do, honey, but in this case, I’d say the guy likes the looks of
you
. Oh shoot, he just turned away to order another drink.”

Jill glanced over again for another look. Mr. TDTS gave new definition to the word “big.” He was more like a one-man NFL team. Dark hair, black T-shirt with short sleeves that showed off big, muscular well-defined arms covered with colorful tattoos. His jeans were well worn, and damn, did he wear them well.

Abruptly, he turned, and they eyed each other again. Something in his eyes this time—whatever he was thinking—made a flurry of electric shocks run through her body. Heat coiled low in her belly. She glanced down and away, struggling to keep her expression cool and composed. She couldn’t help it and looked again.

He was still staring!

Then came his smile—slow. A shade shy of cocky. And bordering on conflicted.

Suddenly, she was so overcome by desire she couldn’t think straight, and that whole lust-at-first-sight thing wasn’t something that had happened to her in…well, never. But here was this man, zeroing in on her when it appeared he didn’t even want to. She wasn’t sure what to do about that.

His expression dimmed, and he swiveled back around on his seat to face the bartender. She kept looking. Checking him out. Considering both him and her own reaction.

His face sported a day’s worth of dark stubble. He definitely didn’t blend in with the crowd.
Not my type
, she thought once again. So what was it about him that made her do a double-take? Was it the way he sat there alone, thinking…brooding…

Didn’t matter. Whatever type he was, one thing was clear—her body responded to it. With those chest muscles rippling underneath his cotton T-shirt, he radiated masculine power.

She imagined herself standing right up and strolling over there, like the many confident actresses she’s watched in movies. Hell, like Liz herself. She’d watched her friend approach a guy in a bar a time or two.
Just go on over there and tell him what you want, take no prisoners
.

Whoa…
the beer she’d had must be playing with her head. A guy like that, someone who belonged on the cover of a hot and steamy romance novel, wouldn’t want someone like her—plain Jane Jill Jones, who ran a daycare for a living.

Even so, the longer they’d held each other’s gazes, the more she’d imagined him taking her into a hidden corner of the bar, his hard mouth moving over hers, her fingers stroking the tattoos defining his biceps, her hand sliding down over what must surely be rock hard abs and—

Jill closed her eyes for a long second, hoping the intense need between her legs would subside. She didn’t understand it. Sure, it had been a while since she’d been with a man, and she’d never been with one who looked dangerous as this one did, but—

“Jill?”

At the sound of Liz’s voice, Jill jerked and turned back to her friend. She’d practically forgotten she was there. “I’m sorry…what did you say?”

Liz laughed. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t be thinking coherently if he’d been looking at me like that, either.”

Jill shrugged off the comment.

Liz raised her eyebrow. “Anyhow, I was just saying that I need to take off. Don’t forget I’ll be in late, and Monica will be there for a couple of hours to help out.”

“I won’t. But I think I’m going to take off, too.” Jill’s voice came out sounding too perky, even to her own ears. Maybe because she could still feel a certain man’s eyes on her—had he turned back in her direction?—and she felt halfway ready to orgasm. That would make any woman sound perkier.

“Aw, you don’t want to leave yet, Tinkerbelle.” The proximity of the male voice startled her.

She turned towards the man who’d spoken, a guy in an expensive suit wearing a cocky smile that communicated he always got his way. He seemed like an up-and-coming young executive, attractive but overdone. His hair was short, spiky, and crispy with styling product. His friend was almost an exact replica. They’d been standing near Jill and Liz, playing darts for the past half hour, occasionally throwing a comment their way. Despite the fact the clean-cut men were more Jill’s type than the man at the bar, they’d given her a bad feeling. So far, Jill and Liz had managed to ignore them.

Put off by his slurred words and lopsided smile, she turned away, but by now, he’d had a few drinks and was obviously feeling bold.

“Hey, beautiful, I’m talking to you.”

Jill bristled, but before she could respond, Liz said, “Sorry, but the lady’s not interested.”