"Now put your arms around my waist," he said.
She sniffed. "I don't want to." Liar. Every hair on her arms screamed to touch his body. No doubt his stomach was washboard flat and his chest hard.
"Okay, fine with me. Hang onto the seat behind you. Use both hands—I hate it when people fall off."
He was joking. Wasn't he?
She reached around and found a little handle on the back of the seat. She gripped tightly as Zack kicked over the engine. It roared aggressively, defiantly, challenging her neighbors to come outside and complain.
Before she knew it, the motorbike leaped forward and they took off. Fast. Way too fast. For the first time in her life, Annie felt fear. Gut wrenching, white knuckled fear. She squeezed her eyes shut and made a mental note to never get on a motorbike again.
They turned a corner and she bit back a scream as the bike tipped dangerously to the right. Her grip on the handle behind felt awkward and insecure. If she let go there was nothing stopping her from falling off except for the grip of her inner thighs around the large black bike. And the muscles in that region were sadly weak from disuse.
She opened her eyes but closed them again when she saw they were in the midst of traffic on the Santa Monica Freeway. At least Zack wasn't weaving in and out of lanes as she'd seen other motorcyclists do, but he wasn't slowing down either.
"Slow down," she yelled.
But he didn't hear her over the roar of the engine and wind. She hung on tighter. Her arms and legs began to throb.
When it felt like they were heading in a straight line, she opened her eyes a fraction and quickly looked around. The scenery flew past and the wind dragged at the sleeves of her jacket, plastering it to her body. She was thankful she was wearing a helmet, despite her initial concern about helmet-hair. To hell with looking good in front of the most gorgeous man on earth—at least she'd still have her brains.
But as the initial danger of falling off subsided, she didn't feel very consoled by that thought anymore. Flat hair looked really bad on her.
Despite her growing confidence in Zack's riding abilities, she still felt extremely vulnerable. There was nothing between her skin and the open road except the Spice Girls.
She gripped the handle tighter, but the muscles in her hands and fingers cramped up. Forget principles, this was a matter of life and death. One hand let go of the handle and gripped Zack around his waist. The other arm followed and she leaned into his back. Better. Safer.
After a few minutes she relaxed and was able to appreciate the scenery and the hard muscles infusing his body.
Eventually they turned off the freeway into Fullerton. The bike slowed and they pulled up at the California State University. Zack took off his helmet and swiveled around.
Reluctantly, she let go of his waist. He rubbed his ribs and grinned down at her.
"You've got one hell of a grip for a little lady." His grin faded to a smirk. "Guess you were pretty scared."
"You were speeding! And I prefer my limbs the way they are—attached to my body."
He laughed under his breath. "I was doing the same speed as everyone else. It just seems faster on the bike because you're so vulnerable. So did you like it?"
"It's was okay."
"Just okay?" He eyed her suspiciously. "I bet you loved it."
"So what are we doing here?" she asked, ignoring him. They'd stopped near the entrance to the Fullerton Arboretum. There were only two other cars parked nearby. The heat had driven most people into air conditioned shopping malls or to the beach. Annie had never been to the Arboretum before, although it was one of those places she'd always meant to see.
Zack lifted the compartment at the back of the bike and pulled out a small pack. He slung it over his back, pulled the straps onto his shoulders and headed off along the path that led into the Arboretum.
"Hey!" she shouted after him, her temper rising. "Are you going to answer me or do you just expect me to follow?"
"Are you hungry?" he called back over his shoulder.
She hesitated then said, "Starving."
He tapped the pack. "Then I expect you to follow."
She chewed her lip then cursed under her breath. Yep, arrogant. "Damn you, DiMarco. I could just strangle you right now."
"Now, now," he teased without turning around, "violence never got anyone anywhere."
"No," she muttered, "but it's a great way to relieve stress."
Her hunger won over her frustration and she followed him at a trot. He'd better not expect her to follow him around like a puppy dog for the rest of the week. She wasn't one of his female groupies, hanging on his every word. She had a mind of her own and she intended to exercise it at every possible opportunity, especially around Zack.
Some time later she wondered if they were going to keep walking until they'd reached the other side of the park. Just when she was about to give into her grumbling stomach and ask him when they'd be stopping, he did.
"Will this do?" he asked.
They stood on a low hill surrounded by spectacular and unusual flora overlooking a small lake. Sunshine glinted on the water, dappling the leaves on the overhanging trees. Despite the heat, a breeze made the spot pleasant, particularly in the shade.
"Perfect," she said.
He laid down the pack and pulled out two sandwiches. "Hope you like pastrami."
"Love it. What else have you got in there?"
"Just a couple of sodas and apples."
"No beer?"
"I thought you didn't drink beer."
"Of course I drink beer." Twice in fact.
He shrugged. "I didn't think you did, and I didn't want you to start today when you've got to ride home on the bike in one piece."
"You think I'd fall off?" she scoffed. "What sort of idiot do you think I am?"
"I choose not to answer that on the grounds I may incriminate myself."
"Smartass."
They ate their sandwiches in silence. Zack lay on his side, propped up on his right elbow, his long legs stretched out. His jacket lay discarded alongside Annie's. She'd removed hers as soon as she got off the bike. No need to be seen wearing that hideous thing any longer than necessary.
At first she tried to look everywhere except at Zack, but her traitorous eyes couldn't stop turning to him. He was handsome, in a Wild West kind of way. That languorous pose displayed the corded muscles under his T-shirt to perfection. His hair hadn't suffered at all by being under the helmet—strands of it flopped across his forehead, messy, sexy. He was gorgeous. What hot-blooded woman could deny it? Certainly not the one sitting beside him, trying hard not to get caught out staring.