Splinters of Light by Rachael Herron Page A

a rap sheet, right?”
    Later, in the hallway of the bar, as she was coming back from the bathroom, the heel of Mariana’s Fluevog Mini Zaza had caught on a taped-down wire that crossed the carpet, and she’d tripped. He’d been there, a few feet away.
    She’d been prepared to shoo away his offer of help. To get up on her own, thank him, and get back to her friends.
    But instead of pulling her up, he dropped to his knees and then shifted to a cross-legged seat. Her impulse to leap to standing faded. She hadn’t had that much to drink, just a whiskey and water, but in front of him, she suddenly felt unstable. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a plastic package. Weed? Something harder? Was he a dealer or something?
    “Gummy bear? To soothe the nerves.”
    “Oh?” Mariana found herself reaching for a green one. “What makes you think I need my nerves soothed?” She did.
    The man with the silver eyes smiled. “Don’t you?”
    Surprised at his perceptiveness, she said, “I guess I do.” Then she admitted, “I’m going after something big tomorrow. Really big.”
    “Like, a dream big?”
    “Totally my dream big. I’m worried I won’t pull it off,” she confessed. “I have to make a really good impression.”
    “You kidding me? You’ll knock ’em dead. I know it.”
    He’d given her a red gummy bear, the best one, he said, and they’d sat, comfortably chatting with each other about favorite mechanisms of sugar transport. Tootsie Rolls were high on both their lists. He liked a Snickers bar way more than she did. She liked the way his jacket creaked when he moved his arms, and the way his hands looked battered.
    He stood eventually, taking her hand and holding it with his huge one for a second too long, a second that started heat to her core. Back in the bar, Molly shot her a thumbs-up but didn’t break away from the small dark-haired man who seemed to be holding her interest. Gummy Bear Guy started to introduce Mariana to his friends and then they both laughed, realizing they’d never told each other their names.
    “Mariana Glass,” she said to his friend. She immediately forgot his name, but then she turned back to Silver Eyes. “And you are?” she said.
    “Luke Clement,” he said. Then he threaded her fingers with his and, without excusing them, pulled her behind him into an unused room full of broken chairs and one listing desk. He kissed her, a kiss so hot it seared her body with its strike of lightning. She felt heat on the soles of her feet. “H-holy
shit
,” she stuttered in the dark room. “Come home with me.”
    His huge fingers cupped the back of her head. “Don’t you have an early meeting?”
    She did. The most important meeting of her life. She should have an early night. Meditate. Prepare. “I’ve never needed that much sleep. Come home with me,” she said again.
    “Okay,” he’d said, running his tongue to the soft spot under her chin. “You ever ridden on the back of a Harley?”
    *   *   *
    In bed that night, both of them still covered in a thin layer of sweat and utter satisfaction at getting something so right on the first try, Mariana had said, “What’s your deal?”
    Luke said, “Huh?”
    She rolled so that she was naked on her belly and grabbed his hand. “You have a line of grease under your nails.”
    “I told you. Motorcycles. That’s my job.”
    Mariana narrowed her eyes. “But your nails themselves are manicured. Over the dirt.”
    If a mountain of a man could blush, Luke managed to do so. “I guess I forgot to mention I might . . . own the motorcycles.”
    “How many of them?”
    He shrugged. “All of them? I inherited a Harley dealership.”
    “Oh, shit!” She blinked.
    “Just a thing,” he said. He’d slid off the edge of the bed, his cock, even though now soft, still startlingly large. He stood in front of her, seemingly totally unself-conscious. “Want some water?”
    She nodded. His revelation stirred