night does not have a rocking social life. She might even be a bit work-obsessed.
And...hmm...who was that person?’ The lift doors
opened with a ping and Ross grinned. ‘Oh, wait! That was you . So what was the last movie you saw, Jones?’
Ally just scowled at him. Note to self:
Ross remembers small details. Dammit.
‘No comeback?’ Ross asked as he escorted her across the parking
lot to a clump of motorbikes next to the lift.
‘I’m thinking of a polite way to tell you to a) mind your own
business and b) that you are talking rubbish,’ Ally replied in her coolest
voice—the one she used when she wanted people to back the hell off. Desperate to
change the subject, she looked around. ‘Where’s your car?’
Ross walked to an over-large, stygian black motorbike and
fiddled with a box on the back. Flipping it open, he removed two black helmets.
‘No car—just this. Put this on.’
‘Of course you wouldn’t use
something as normal as a car for transport. Too pedestrian for you.’
‘I like bikes,’ Ross said mildly.
‘I like cars.’ Ally glared at the massive bike. It was muscled,
sleek, oozing testosterone...just like its owner. ‘This is the motorbike
equivalent of one of those stupid, oversized petrol-guzzling SUVs...’ She
snapped her fingers in impatience. ‘What are they called? Those stupid big cars
that take up half of the road?’
Ross named the vehicle she was thinking of.
‘That’s it. So, this bad boy is the
motorcycle equivalent of that humming car.’
Ross lifted his hand in confusion. ‘What are you talking
about?’
‘When men buy hugely powerful machines like this, psychologists
think that it’s a way of them reassuring the world that they’re not... ahem ...undersized.’
Ally lifted both shoulders at Ross’s shocked face. It was a
little bit of payback for his earlier comments.
She widened her eyes to look sincere. ‘What? It’s true. I did
psychology as part of my MBA in marketing.’
‘You’re nuts. Men don’t think like that.’ That sexy mouth
quirked up at the corners. ‘And I’ve never had any complaints about the size of
my penis.’
‘The opinions of two old ladies in a lift don’t count,
Bennett,’ Ally quipped, and immediately thought that she’d gone too far.
This was not an appropriate conversation, but Ross had a way of
bringing out her inner Crazy Girl. Dear Lord she hoped that he had a sense of
humour or else she was up the river Caca.
His loud laugh told her he did. His eyes crinkled as he slung
the computer case across her chest and plopped the helmet over her head. ‘You
have a smart mouth, Ally.’
‘I really do.’ Ally tried to push the helmet off but his hand
held it on her head. ‘And it’s trying to tell you that I am not getting on that
bike. It’s big and mean and dangerous. And my skirt is too tight to get on
it!’
There—that should stop the argument. She’d be a civilised
person and take a taxi to RBM and meet him there. And she’d do it without
flashing her panties.
Ross held her hands in his. ‘The bike is just a machine and I
control it. I’ll keep you safe, I promise. As for your skirt...’ he gestured to
the deserted parking lot ‘...nobody will see you get on. It might hitch up an
inch or two. So what? You have great legs that deserve to be shown off.’
‘Flatterer.’
‘C’mon, Jones, it’s a stunning day.’ Ross straddled the bike
and shoved the key into the ignition. ‘Cut loose. Prove to yourself that you
can.’
The sound pounded through her system and Ally licked her lips.
God, how would it feel to have that power beneath her, between her legs?
And the motorbike would be just as good.
‘You won’t regret it, I promise. Stop being uptight and prissy
and get on.’
‘I am not uptight and prissy,’ Ally muttered, knowing that she
was and wishing she wasn’t. Dammit, was she really going to do this? It seemed
she was—if only to show Mr Cool that she could be cool.
Although she
And...hmm...who was that person?’ The lift doors
opened with a ping and Ross grinned. ‘Oh, wait! That was you . So what was the last movie you saw, Jones?’
Ally just scowled at him. Note to self:
Ross remembers small details. Dammit.
‘No comeback?’ Ross asked as he escorted her across the parking
lot to a clump of motorbikes next to the lift.
‘I’m thinking of a polite way to tell you to a) mind your own
business and b) that you are talking rubbish,’ Ally replied in her coolest
voice—the one she used when she wanted people to back the hell off. Desperate to
change the subject, she looked around. ‘Where’s your car?’
Ross walked to an over-large, stygian black motorbike and
fiddled with a box on the back. Flipping it open, he removed two black helmets.
‘No car—just this. Put this on.’
‘Of course you wouldn’t use
something as normal as a car for transport. Too pedestrian for you.’
‘I like bikes,’ Ross said mildly.
‘I like cars.’ Ally glared at the massive bike. It was muscled,
sleek, oozing testosterone...just like its owner. ‘This is the motorbike
equivalent of one of those stupid, oversized petrol-guzzling SUVs...’ She
snapped her fingers in impatience. ‘What are they called? Those stupid big cars
that take up half of the road?’
Ross named the vehicle she was thinking of.
‘That’s it. So, this bad boy is the
motorcycle equivalent of that humming car.’
Ross lifted his hand in confusion. ‘What are you talking
about?’
‘When men buy hugely powerful machines like this, psychologists
think that it’s a way of them reassuring the world that they’re not... ahem ...undersized.’
Ally lifted both shoulders at Ross’s shocked face. It was a
little bit of payback for his earlier comments.
She widened her eyes to look sincere. ‘What? It’s true. I did
psychology as part of my MBA in marketing.’
‘You’re nuts. Men don’t think like that.’ That sexy mouth
quirked up at the corners. ‘And I’ve never had any complaints about the size of
my penis.’
‘The opinions of two old ladies in a lift don’t count,
Bennett,’ Ally quipped, and immediately thought that she’d gone too far.
This was not an appropriate conversation, but Ross had a way of
bringing out her inner Crazy Girl. Dear Lord she hoped that he had a sense of
humour or else she was up the river Caca.
His loud laugh told her he did. His eyes crinkled as he slung
the computer case across her chest and plopped the helmet over her head. ‘You
have a smart mouth, Ally.’
‘I really do.’ Ally tried to push the helmet off but his hand
held it on her head. ‘And it’s trying to tell you that I am not getting on that
bike. It’s big and mean and dangerous. And my skirt is too tight to get on
it!’
There—that should stop the argument. She’d be a civilised
person and take a taxi to RBM and meet him there. And she’d do it without
flashing her panties.
Ross held her hands in his. ‘The bike is just a machine and I
control it. I’ll keep you safe, I promise. As for your skirt...’ he gestured to
the deserted parking lot ‘...nobody will see you get on. It might hitch up an
inch or two. So what? You have great legs that deserve to be shown off.’
‘Flatterer.’
‘C’mon, Jones, it’s a stunning day.’ Ross straddled the bike
and shoved the key into the ignition. ‘Cut loose. Prove to yourself that you
can.’
The sound pounded through her system and Ally licked her lips.
God, how would it feel to have that power beneath her, between her legs?
And the motorbike would be just as good.
‘You won’t regret it, I promise. Stop being uptight and prissy
and get on.’
‘I am not uptight and prissy,’ Ally muttered, knowing that she
was and wishing she wasn’t. Dammit, was she really going to do this? It seemed
she was—if only to show Mr Cool that she could be cool.
Although she
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