Hightower Affairs 2: Bedding the Secret Heiress by Emilie Rose Page A

down my guard?”
    His expression turned serious. “If I hadn’t been late arriving at the airport, we’d have taken off before the fog descended, and you’d be home by now. My overtime cost you your day off. The motorcycle ride is to replace the one I took from you.”
    Speechless and more than a little suspicious, she stared into his dark eyes, searching for the truth. That sounded fair-minded and almost nice . She didn’t want him to be nice. She wanted him to be a conceited prick. Like Trent.
    But she wasn’t dumb enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. She’d always wanted to see the Dutch Amish countryside, and her father had always said, “Take a little of each place you visit home with you.” She’d just have to be careful and not fall for Gage’s handsome face, his devastating grin or let his sneaky charm worm information out of her that she wasn’t willing to share. Of course, that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Not after the lesson Whit had taught her.
    “Okay, Faulkner, you’re on. But I’m in charge. Road rules state the most experienced rider leads. That’s me. If you can’t handle following, speak up now.”
    One corner of his mouth curled upward. “I can handle anything you can dish out and then some, Lynch. Bring it on.”
     
    Lauren’s bike engine wasn’t the only thing revving as Gage strode across the parking lot toward her.
    A muscle-hugging black leather jacket accentuated his broad shoulders and lean torso. Matching chaps framed the denim covering the male package behind the fly of his jeans like a Look Here sign. He paused beside his motorcycle to don his black helmet and pull on his gloves, then he mounted the machine.
    She visually traced the line of his straight back, his long legs and the booted feet he’d planted squarely on the asphalt. She told herself she was assessing his form and therefore his skill level, but knew she lied.
    He looked good straddling a Harley. Good and hot.
    And that was baaaad . For her peace of mind, anyway.
    Luckily, she’d ridden her motorcycle to work yesterday, and had stowed her riding gear on the plane. Not so Gage. He wore “tags barely off” new everything from the skivvies out—assuming he wore underwear. The biker attire suited him as well as his tailored suit had, maybe better. And thank God he had the intelligence to wear a helmet even though Pennsylvania law didn’t require one.
    With concentrated effort she forced her attention away from the man beside her to the GPS on the rental rumbling between her legs. After double-checking the route the salesperson had suggested, she heeled up her kickstand.
    Gage’s gaze scraped her from head to toe. Appreciation replaced the anticipation sparkling in his eyes. Her breath caught and suddenly her neck warmer felt tighter and itchier than a too-small turtleneck sweater. She tugged the stretchy fleece away from her skin and inhaled a lungful of cool air.
    He zipped his jacket and flipped down his visor then started his bike and twisted the throttle, making the engine roar. His thigh muscles bunched as he balancedthe heavy weight of the bike, making her think of other activities that caused those same muscles to flex. Not something she needed to think about if she wanted to be steady on her wheels.
    She cleared her throat. “Ready?”
    “Ready.” His voice was strong and sure.
    Oh, yeah, he’d ridden before and his confidence in his ability to control the powerful motorcycle came through loud and clear.
    Damn. Confidence looked good on him. Good and sexy.
    Her palms moistened in her gloves and heat filled her jacket and helmet despite the nip in the autumn air. A chilly ride was exactly what she needed to clear her head. A little hypothermia would fix what ailed her. “Follow my lead and watch for my hand signals.”
    “Just ride, Lauren. I’ve got your back.”
    She lowered her visor, put the bike in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. She’d bet her Harley Gage would