first time around, so youâve come back to finish me off with a heart attack?â
âYour heartâs safe from me.â
Ohâ¦
Was she supposed to feel quite so disappointed? Magentaâs brain raced as the biker lifted one ebony eyebrow, sending a tidal wave of hot, feral lust rushing through her veins. Removing one protective leather glove, the man stretched out his hand for her to shake.
âYou surely donât expect me to shake your hand after youâve frightened me half to death, not once but twice?â
He grinned. âYouâre not that feeble, Iâm sure. But my apologies, if I frightened you.â
The mock bow made her heart thunder into action. But what exactly did he find so funny?
âSomething tells me weâre going to be seeing a lot of each other,â the biker said, closing one warm, strong hand around Magentaâs frozen fingers.
Yeah, right. In your dreams , she thought.
CHAPTER THREE
A S THE biker dismounted his machine and straightened up, Magenta felt her cheeks fire red. He was a lot taller than she had expected and had the type of shoulders that blotted out the light. She had to fight the desire to give him a comprehensive twice-over. She already knew he was an amazing-looking man and that tight black leathers were no respecters of female sensibilities. She dropped her gaze as a dangerous stare levelled on her face.
âLost your voice?â The voice was low and amused, husky and compelling.
And leather didnât conceal or contain, it stretched and moulded shapes lovinglyâ¦
âWell? Have you?â he prompted.
No, but she had been struck by one too many thunderbolts in a single day, Magenta concluded, whipping her head up to stare the man in the eyes. He curved a smile in response that threw her totally, a smile that made his eyes crinkle attractively at the corners.
âIâm glad you think this is funny,â she said, covering her growing feeling of awkwardness with a scowl. âI donât care who you are, what you just did was dangerous.â Now she sounded like his headmistress and felt old enough to hold the post.
That grin spread from his mouth to his eyes, making her wonder if heâd read that thought.
âYou look to me like you badly need a ride.â
Where had that thought come from?
She wished she had the guts to throw him the same grin he had given her earlier. But no, this was how she was, clumsy with men, which made her grumpy and defensive. She might be heavily into studying the sixties for the ad campaign, but it would never occur to her to embrace the concept of free love. And from what sheâd seen to date nothing about love was free, Magenta reflected as the biker continued to study her with amused interest.
âI thought I might come back and see if you still needed rescuing.â
âNot then and not now.â
âA man is programmed to play the white knightâitâs built into the genes.â
The only thing that was built into his jeans was a warning that she was out of her depth. âI can look after myself, thank you.â
âAnd so you prove this by standing out here, freezing your butt off?â
Just the mention of her butt caused her body to heat. âI havenât been standing outside all this time. And, anyway, Iâm going home now.â
âAnd how do you intend to do that?â
âOn the underground, or in a cab.â
âYouâll be lucky.â
âMeaning?â
âDelays on the line; buses bulging at the seams. And thereâs not a taxi to found. Not a free one, at least.â
She tried not to notice how beautiful the bikerâs eyes were. They were aquamarine with steely grey rims around the iris, the whites very white and his lashes completely wasted on a man. While his tongue was firmly lodged in his cheek, Magenta suspected. âWhat are you?â she demanded. âSome sort of information clerk for