Deep Autumn Heat (9 page)

“Yes. I’ll drive you home. You live on Harper’s Pond Road, right?” He rose from his seat.

“That won’t be necessary,” Seb said. “I’ve got it covered.”

The two brothers stared at each other for a few long seconds. Then Cole nodded his head fractionally, but enough for Lexie to see that he’d given his consent. Cole turned to look at Lexie very seriously. “I’ll figure out what’s going on here, and I’ll put a stop to it,” he said with conviction. “You can count on it.”

“Thanks, Sheriff, I appreciate that.”

Seb escorted her quickly through the building. They reached his bike, which was parked a few blocks from the station. Seb grabbed his black helmet off the back and put it on. He threw one long leg over the bike then kicked the stand away, simultaneously placing the key into the ignition. He held out an extra helmet. “Here. Put this on.”

* * *

The nervousness Lexie had tamped down while giving her statement to Cole burbled back up, and the reality of the situation set in. She’d just been rescued from an unknown assailant by none other than Sebastian Grayson, a man who’d given her a heated kiss the night before. She was standing on a cobblestone street in the darkness about to get on his
motorcycle
. He was trying to help her as if he were a gentleman.

Lexie knew he was anything but.

She looked at Seb’s outstretched hand, his large body bracketing the bike, and the huge machine between his thighs. His face was partially shielded by his helmet. He was dressed entirely in black, the motorcycle was black, and together they looked like one massive unit—half man and half machine.

He looked like something out of a dream. Lexie shuddered. Unconsciously, she inched away from him. She should have insisted that Cole drive her home.

Impatiently, Seb thrust his arm out again, trying to get her to take the helmet.

“C’mon. You need to wear this.”

Lexie shook her head, eyes riveted to the bike. “I … I can’t. I’ve never ridden a motorcycle.” She continued inching backward, having no idea how she was going to get on that thing. It was clearly built for a man of Seb’s size, not for a petite woman. She was honestly frightened. Not only had she never been on a bike, but this one looked far too enormous for her to ride it comfortably. “Just walk me back to my car and I’ll drive home.”

“After what you’ve been through? Not a chance.” Before she knew what was happening, Seb swung off the seat, helped secure the helmet on her head, and pulled her back toward the bike. Still holding her hand, he mounted the bike. She could either struggle with him or follow his lead and get on. She was too drained to do anything but the latter.

“Throw your leg over the side.”

She swung her leg over the bike, the way she’d seen him do it, then used his waist as a lever to help her get on the rest of the way. She let go of him as soon as she was balanced on the
back.

“Keep your hands wrapped around my waist.”

Lexie hesitated slightly, then obeyed, arranging her hands loosely and keeping what she thought was a decent distance between their bodies.

“Tighter. You need to get closer to me,” he said.

She stiffened, then inched forward and tightened her grip, thinking she was close enough. The engine roared to life, then mellowed into a loud purr. Yet as soon as the bike jerked with movement, she squeezed her body as tightly as she could against Seb’s back.

The bike rumbled as they sped off into the night.

Lexie certainly hadn’t imagined that she’d experience her first motorcycle ride while clinging to Sebastian Grayson. In a flash, she thanked the stars she’d chosen to wear jeans that day.

She felt a rising tide of panic make its way from the pit of her stomach through the rest of her body. Before she did something crazy—like jump off the bike mid-ride—she tried to calm herself. She tried to think about the restaurant, about her food orders, even about Paige Sinclair. Anything but the fact that she was hanging on to Seb for dear life after being attacked in the park by a masked stranger who might have been Frank.

As the crisp night air turned cold from the speed of the bike, Lexie closed her eyes and tucked her head against Seb’s jacket. The few miles ticked by quickly. She felt the cobblestones of the historic district give way to the pavement of Route 28, and eventually to the gravelly pavement of Harper’s Pond Road.

Finally, the bike stopped and Seb cut the engine. The roar of the motor was replaced with the quiet of the evening, interrupted only by the chirping of crickets and the pounding of her heart. A partial moon cast a dim light onto the surrounding treetops, but it was impenetrably dark under the canopy of branches.

“We’re here,” Seb spoke into the night.

Lexie lifted her head off of his back, unwound her arms, and slid her leg over the seat.
Back on firm ground, she removed the helmet and handed it to him without a word. She turned to walk up the path to her house, and—triggered by her movements—the automatic lights switched on. Her heart was still pounding and every nerve ending was taut.
He
was making her feel this way, not just the wild motorcycle ride.

“Hey,” he said, knocking the stand into place and leaping off the bike.

She turned to face him, knowing her cheeks were flushed. “Thank you for seeing me home and for helping me on the Green. I’ll call Buster to come get me in the morning,” she said numbly, before turning away again.

Seb caught up with her in a matter of seconds. “Why didn’t you tell me or anyone else about Frank Doherty? Or the fact that someone’s been after your cake recipe?”

“I didn’t think about it. I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Of course I care.” He sounded indignant.

She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. “Look, it’s been a long day. I’ve been physically attacked, I’m exhausted, and I just want to go inside.”

“Hey,” Seb said soothingly. “Hey. You must have been terrified.” He stepped toward her and unzipped his jacket. Slowly, gently, he enveloped her in his long, strong arms. Without demanding anything more, he simply held her. She sank gratefully into his warmth and laid her cheek on his chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart thrummed reassuringly.

Safe and warm, pressed against his body, Lexie didn’t know what to make of Sebastian. How could she reconcile his earlier intensity with his current gentleness? She had to admit that he was making her feel better.

After a period of time had passed, Lexie began to wonder how long Sebastian had been holding her. Was it five minutes? Ten? She had no idea what he was thinking. She lifted her head from his chest and looked him in the eyes. His expression was inscrutable. Then, without speaking, he bent his head and kissed her.

Lexie stiffened for a moment before she realized that his kiss was intended to comfort her. Unhurriedly, he wended his hands up her back, entwining them in her wind-blown hair. His
lips pressed gently against hers. There was no rush to his movements—it felt like he would stand there all night to please her.

It was a startling contrast from their kiss outside the restaurant. That kiss had been selfish and demanding, and it had made her feel like she was about to burst into flame. This kiss warmed her with a slow-building heat. It was generous, tender, and completely captivating.

Lexie fought the rising tide of pleasure. She shouldn’t be doing this. She’d worked too hard to keep her emotions and her fevered longings in check. Worked too hard to have it all come undone with the simple pressure of his lips on hers. But he felt so good—and it had been so long—that she had no choice but to allow her body to say yes. At last, she let go, relaxing into his warmth and kissing him back.

Seb emitted a quiet groan. Slowly, he slid his tongue between her willing lips. She opened them wider to accept his entry, then tentatively stroked her own tongue against his. It felt heavenly, and she moaned low and soft in her throat.

Lexie’s eyes slipped closed and she let the feeling of pleasure wash over her. It slid down her body like warm, melted chocolate. Deep, bittersweet chocolate on her tongue, on her lips. It made her forget the cold, the threats, everything except for him. She followed his lead, exploring the depths of his mouth the way he was exploring hers.

For once, he moved like a man without an agenda. Without all of his arrogance, without his ego, he was just a man. A man who knew how to make her feel more pleasure than anyone ever had before.

Long moments passed, and still he made no move to deepen their contact—he just kept kissing her, slowly devouring her lips with his own. His tongue warmed her, soothed her.

She felt the bulge of his erection press against her stomach. Far from being nervous, she warmed to the idea. It would be good. With this man, it would be right.

Time glided by as if Lexie were in a dream. Finally, through the fog and haze, she felt his hands slip out from around her body and his mouth withdraw from her own. She opened her eyes and blinked into the darkness. Set on a timer, the automatic lights had gone out.

Although the night was very dark, she could see from the dim moonlight that Seb was watching her. He had a forbidding expression on his face.

“Go inside,” he said starkly.

“I—” Lexie tried to speak, then swallowed. Her voice sounded hollow in the evening air.

“Now, please,” he said, his voice clipped.

Lexie jerked away from him. In a flash, the motion sensor lights flicked back on, casting light on both them and the reality of the situation. This was the real Sebastian Grayson. Opening up to him had been a huge mistake. She should never have let her guard down, even for a moment. Needing to get away from him as soon as possible, she fumbled in her pocket for her house keys and nearly sprinted up the path to the door.

Unlocking it as fast as she could, she switched the hall lights on and was about to slam the door in his face without even looking at him, when something made her turn back.

He stood on the path staring at her, illuminated by her garden lights, looking huge even from ten feet away. He’d shoved his hands into the side pockets of his jeans. His leather jacket hung off his broad shoulders and his green eyes glowed in the darkness. He looked beautiful and very, very dangerous.

But Lexie saw something else in his expression that she never would have expected. Sebastian Grayson looked. sad. For once, her wit betrayed her. The harsh words she had been about to let loose stuck in her throat.

“You are
not
a nice man,” was all she was able to muster.

“I know.”

“I … I don’t like you.”

“I know.” This said softly, almost ruefully.

Lexie pursed her lips together. They still felt warm and slightly swollen from his kiss. She debated whether to say something else. Then carefully, deliberately, she simply closed the door.

After a few moments, she heard the crunch of his boots on her garden path and the roar of
his motorcycle as he started it up. Once the sound of the engine had disappeared down Harper’s Pond Road, she sagged against the door. Bending her knees, she let her body slide down. When she reached the ground, she curled her arms around her legs and tucked her head against her knees. She replayed the events of the last few hours again and again in her mind until she finally gathered the strength to drag herself to bed.

“Now
this
is what I call living,” Sebastian sighed as he sat in a low beach chair on the deck of Val’s houseboat, a fishing pole propped in the crook of his arm. The lure bobbed in the water, which undulated in alternating swirls of green and blue. A light breeze blew out of the southwest and the salty tang of the water permeated the air. Even though it was now officially autumn, it was warm outside on this Tuesday morning, and Seb was wearing low-slung jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt. Theo was back in San Francisco, Cole was working, and Seb was free until an afternoon appointment with the real estate broker in Boston. For the first time in a long time, he had nowhere pressing to be and plenty of time to think about his career. “Summer’s over, the tourists are gone, and all that’s left are the locals. Right, Val?”

Seb glanced over at Val, who was standing a few feet away, leaning against the cabin wall. His older brother’s lean, sinewy frame was deceiving, his strength—and his physical training—hidden. Underneath his calm, quiet exterior was a man who could rapidly defuse a tense situation with a gesture or a few well-chosen words—very useful traits to have in his current profession as a drug enforcement agent. He was glad Val had chosen to work from home this morning; he liked his brother’s company.

Val turned to him, his face implacable. “Sorry to inform you of this, bro, but as Cole so aptly put it, you’re no longer considered a local.”

“ ’Course I am,” Seb responded indignantly. “Once a local, always a local.”

“Don’t you think you gave up that claim when you moved to New York City?”

“Absolutely not,” he said with conviction. “I’m a Star Harbor townie and proud of it.”

“And London, Paris, and New York have had no part in making you who you are?”

“Nope. All the good stuff happened right here in town.”

“The good stuff.” Val shook his head. “I can’t even remember what that was anymore.
Remind me.”

“You’re getting old if you can’t remember all the fun we had together. I’ll remind you of a few choice gems. For example, the time we changed the ‘Welcome to Star Harbor’ sign to read ‘Welcome to Scab Harbor.’ ”

Val gave a chuckle. “That was a good one. It took the town administration three weeks to realize the sign was wrong.”

“I remember,” Seb said with a smile. “What about the time we half buried John’s old car behind the high school for our senior prank day?”

“A classic.”

“And you can’t have forgotten about the time we all crashed Gina Rossi’s slumber party over spring break when she was back from college?”

“Mmm,” Val groaned. “We thought the girls would be so angry with us, but they weren’t.”

“No, indeed.” Seb’s lip curled up again.