with girlfriends.”
“Let me get back to you on that. So tell me all about your date.” Katherine dropped the knife and gripped her thumb. Blood welled above her nail. “Bother!”
Grabbing a paper towel, Devin wrapped it around her thumb, then guided her to the sink, where he rinsed the cut and inspected it. “Nothing a bandage won’t fix.” He found the first aid kit, dug around for the right size and handed it to her.
“Your date?” she prompted.
“Technically it’s not a date.” No woman had ever insisted on platonic before.
“Really?” Katherine finished applying the bandage and looked up. “What is it then?”
Devin started to laugh. “Deluded.”
You’d have thought a smart woman like Rachel would know better. Nothing could have stoked his interest more than her No Trespass sign. If the librarian had been genuinely indifferent, Devin could have accepted it, but she wasn’t. The kiss had proved that. And the challenge inherent in her nonnegotiable decree…what kind of wuss would he be if he let the gauntlet lie?
Katherine rinsed her other hand, still sticky with peach juice. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally met a nice girl,” she said hopefully.
“I’m not telling you anything,” he reminded her.
“Spoilsport. In that case I might as well go.”
“What about the peaches?” he teased.
She poked her tongue out at him. “I know you’ll throw them out as soon as my back’s turned so give them to me. I’ll finish stewing them at home.” Drying her hands on a tea towel, she added, “Have you heard from Zander lately?”
Devin stopped smiling. “No.” When he’d raised the subject of financial anomalies, his big brother had cut the phone call short. Since then Zander hadn’t returned any messages.
“Careful with those peaches, Dev,” Katherine protested. “You’ll bruise them.”
He slowed the tumble of peaches from the fruit bowl into the bag, and glanced at her. “So, how is he?” While Zander rarely initiated contact, Katherine kept the relationship going by phone.
“I can’t seem to get hold of him lately.” She busied herself searching in her bag for her car keys, which Devin could plainly see near the top. “But he must be terribly busy arranging the new tour.”
Running scared more like, if he was avoiding even Katherine’s phone calls.
“I’m sure he’ll phone soon,” he told her.
“Oh, I’m not worried.”
Which meant she was. Unfortunately, the mounting evidence suggested his brother had been siphoning off more than his share of royalties on the early songs they’d cowritten. But surely Zander trusted Devin not to involve Katherine? Damn it, this situation was getting more and more complicated. On impulse Devin kissed his mother goodbye, something he rarely did. “Have a great night.”
For a moment Katherine looked startled, then she patted his cheek. “You, too…and I expect to hear all about it.” On those ominous words she left.
All going well, he reflected as he closed the front door behind her, the evening’s activities wouldn’t be fit for maternal ears. Checking his watch, Devin calculated time zones, then rang Zander’s cell and left another message: “Call your mother!”
Then he finished getting ready for his date, turning his mind to more pleasurable thoughts. Like teaching the librarian to forgo restraint, caution and common sense in favor of spontaneity, recklessness and instant gratification. And that was even before they reached her unmade bed. Her so-called vice perfectly complemented the only one he had left.
Sex.
CHAPTER NINE
RACHEL DIDN’T WANT to be nervous.
It made the evening ahead feel too much like a date.
Which it wasn’t.
Peering past the mottled green patches in the antique oval mirror on her dresser, she applied a shocking pink lipstick and decided she was satisfied with her appearance. She wore a tight-fitting fifties cocktail dress of pink crepe overlaid with black lace, which had a scalloped edge at the strapless bodice and a mermaid ruffle hem. After straightening the black velvet bow at the Empire waist, she hunted for the lacy tights that went with the outfit. Holding them up, she frowned. They had a run, and the ladder was long enough for a fire brigade.
Reluctantly, she settled for patterned knee-high stockings-figuring the three-quarter-length skirt would cover them. She finished the outfit with a pair of dainty black ankle boots with a high heel, and clipped on velvet bows to match the one at her waist.
Opera presented a rare chance to dress up, but she was also trying to prove a point. Of course vintage could be sexy-look at Dita Von Teese, the famous striptease artist once married to shock rocker Marilyn Manson. Rachel hesitated, then picked up a tissue and scrubbed off the slutty lipstick, replacing it with a less provocative nude shade.
She glanced at the diamante watch strapped to her wrist. Her car was being serviced so they’d go in his. She hoped Devin was allowing enough time for them to walk to wherever he’d parked.
The full-throttle throb of a powerful engine brought her to the door. Nervously wrapping herself in her fringed silk shawl, she stared at the leather-clad figure on the Harley-Davidson.
Devin lifted the black visor on his helmet. “No pre-car street layout defeats a red-blooded American,” he said with satisfaction, then scanned her shawl-swathed figure. “I brought a jumpsuit in case you wore a dress.” Reaching into a side satchel, he pulled out what looked like a pair of orange mechanic’s overalls, then unclipped another helmet from the pillion.
Rachel finally found her voice. “I’m not going to the opera on a motorbike!”
“Why not? It’ll be fun.” His gaze dropped to her feet. “Those boots should be okay on the bike.”
She tugged the shawl tighter around her shoulders. “What about my hair?” It was piled on her head, with loose tendrils softening the diamante sparkles at her earlobes and throat.
Devin looked at it critically. “Very pretty.”
She had a sudden feeling he was doing this on purpose. “We’re catching a taxi.”
“Okay.” To her surprise, he got off the motorcycle without a murmur. “How long do they take on a Saturday night? Not that I mind missing the first half…”
Rachel held out her hand for the jumpsuit and helmet. “Wait here.” Inside, she put on the offending items, knowing better than to check her appearance in the mirror. When she came out, Devin sat astride the bike, engine idling and his face hidden behind the visor again. “If you’re grinning behind that…”
He raised a gloved hand holding two tickets. “Front row mezzanine, overlooking the stage.”
Gingerly, Rachel approached the bike. “How do I get on this thing?”
“Put your left foot on the foot peg, then swing your right leg over the seat. Watch out for the exhaust.”
She followed his instructions, trying not to touch him, and he checked the position of her feet. “You can hold on to the grab rail or me. If you haven’t ridden before you’ll probably feel more secure with your arms around my waist.”
Rachel reached behind her for the grab rail. “This is fine.” She couldn’t see his face, but it sounded as if he was trying not to laugh.
“Let’s go then.”
He accelerated slowly, but her knees tightened instinctively around his hips. The Harley picked up speed and Rachel dropped the grab rail and clamped her arms around his waist, hanging on for dear life. A rumble of laughter vibrated through his torso, matching the rumble of the bike’s engine.
She’d never been on a motorbike before, never comprehended the delicious assault on the senses. Speed cooled the air and pushed the scents of the city under her visor. Exhaust fumes, a sizzle of food from passing
