“Then I guess you’d better sit real close to me to keep it a secret.”
“Maybe I should—”
He loomed over her. “It’s twelve blocks. If you hate the ride over, I’ll call a cab to bring you back here after lunch. But you’ve got to at least try it. You know you want to.”
How had he known that? “I’m putting myself in your hands, Ronin.”
“You have no idea how much that appeals to me,” he murmured.
His words flowed across her as potent as a caress.
“Hold still.” He slipped the helmet on and flipped the visor up. “Is it pinching anywhere?”
“No.”
Ronin swept her hair over her shoulders. He draped her long purse strap over her head, positioning her purse against her hip. “Let’s go.” He closed the visor and dug the keys out of his pocket before he climbed onto the bike.
Talk about a nice butt. Good thing the visor hid her lustful eyes—not good to be drooling over a new client.
And she might’ve pulled off her silent reminder to keep it professional, if she hadn’t been forced to sit so close to him on the bike seat that angled down, smashing her crotch against that nice ass. All professional thoughts vanished when she wrapped her arms around his hard muscular core as they zoomed through city traffic.
The ride didn’t take long and Amery was sort of sad to see it end.
Ronin held the bike steady as she quickly dismounted. She pulled the helmet off, shaking her hair free before she straightened her skirt.
“Want me to carry your helmet?” he asked.
“Nope. Holding it makes me feel a like a badass biker chick.”
“You’re a little too wholesome looking to pull that off.”
Amery faced him. “Did you mean wholesome as an insult?”
Ronin invaded her space. “Not at all. It just requires more patience convincing a wholesome woman like you to take a walk on the wild side. But once you’re there . . .” His eyes were glued to her mouth. “I bet you’d put badass biker chicks to shame.”
Her entire body heated, but she managed a droll, “I’m wondering who you see when you’re looking at me, because I don’t see that at all.”
“You should look deeper, because it’s right there in your eyes.”
Amery placed her hand on his chest and leaned in, catching a whiff of his exotic cologne. “You are dangerous, and not because you’ve got mad martial arts skills.”
“Why?”
“Because you almost make me believe you can read me that well.” Amery sidestepped him and walked through the open door to the restaurant. She paused at the hostess stand, inhaling several deep breaths to try and calm down.
A warm body pressed against her back, and soft lips brushed her ear. “Pink.”
She turned her head and his lips moved to her cheek. “What?”
“The only person who saw your underwear was me. And they’re pink.”
The host approached and bowed. “Master Black.”
Ronin returned the bow. “Michael. You’re looking good. How’s the family?”
“Wonderful. Angelina and I are so proud our Christina graduated with honors in May.”
“Congratulations. You have every right to be proud.”
“If not for your help . . . our Christina might not be . . .”
“Please.” Ronin held up his hand in a say no more gesture. “Give my best to your wife and daughter.”
“I will. Francis will show you to your table.”
After they were seated upstairs on the patio, in the corner table with an amazing view, Amery said, “Best seat in the house, Master Black. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. Michael is too shrewd a businessman to hold a special table for me during lunch rush. I chalk it up to my good luck today.”
Amery didn’t buy that, but she let it go. She scanned the menu. “I’ve heard the food is fantastic. What do you recommend?”
“The salmon quinoa salad. Or the roasted vegetable pasta.” She must’ve frowned because he said, “Is something wrong?”
“Just wondering if you’re a vegetarian.”
“Because I suggested vegetarian dishes? No. I’m very much a carnivore. In fact, I’ve decided on the buffalo burger.”
“I was looking at that too.”
Once the waiter took their order, Amery handed over the menu and felt Ronin’s eyes on her again. “You’re staring at me. Do I have helmet hair or something?”
“No. I just like looking at you.”
“Well, it makes me uncomfortable.”
He shrugged, as if to say too bad.
“So that guy you talked to up front. What did he mean when he said if not for you? Did you save his daughter’s life or something?”
The change in his face was subtle, from relaxed to guarded, but she caught it. By the stiff way he held himself, she suspected he wouldn’t answer. Finally he said, “His only daughter was attacked at college her freshman year. She closed herself off from everyone and was failing all her classes. Michael signed her up for a self-defense class with me at the dojo and she worked through her issues.”
“Do you teach self-defenses often?”
“Almost never anymore.” He took a long drink of water. “Your accent . . . I can’t put a finger on it. Where are you from originally?”
Talk about changing the subject. “North Dakota.”