ANNA TUGGED the two pieces of leather hard, and finally squeezed the stud through the hole. Sighing, she let her tummy out. There was a distinct possibility that she’d bought her leather bike pants a size too small. She sank onto her haunches, then stood back up again. The brand-new leather was supple but squeaky, and she decided that it would give enough so that she wouldn’t have to do battle with the zipper every time.
Reaching for her leather gauntlets and her bike helmet, she started toward the door. She’d had her learner bike permit for two days, and this would be only her third ride on her spanking new Ducati S2R 1000. She’d yet to find out what it could really do, to really open it out and hammer it, but already she was reveling in the sense of freedom the bike gave her. The powerful throb of the motor between her legs, the adrenaline rush of being so exposed, so vulnerable—she really knew she was alive when she was riding.
A nice change from the rest of her life, that was for sure. When she was riding was the only time she didn’t think about Marc. It was possible that would wear off as she became more accustomed to the demands of the bike. And then she’d simply have to find something else to push the limits. Whatever it took. That was the name of the game she was playing.
Opening the front door, she pulled up short as she saw Danny there, hand raised ready to knock.
“Hi,” she said, suppressing a guilty little shiver when she saw his expression darken.
“What are you doing? Are those bike leathers?” Danny demanded instantly.
She sighed. “Yes. Before you ask, I bought the Ducati. Quick, get the hissy fit over and done with.”
“This is because of Marc Lewis, isn’t it? You fell in love with him and now you’re freaking out, aren’t you? Talk to me, Anna,” Danny demanded.
“This is about my life, nothing else. Getting the most out of every last minute.”
“You won’t have many more last minutes if you keep going on like this. I’ve seen Marc. He told me about the bungee jumping. And the parasailing and the scuba diving and God knows what else you’ve been up to. Are you trying to die, Anna? Is that it?”
“What do you mean, you’ve seen Marc?” she asked, paling.
“He came to see me. He was desperate. He told me what happened in Bali.”
That explained why the phone calls had stopped. A part of her felt a little thrill that he was being so persistent. But it was pointless.
“I told him to come over. I think you should talk to him,” Danny said.
“Just because you’re Mr. Out and Proud doesn’t suddenly make you an expert on relationships, Danny! I don’t want to see him.”
“Fine, then I’ll just send him on up and you can tell him that yourself,” Danny said.
Anna choked. “He’s here? Now?” Her pulse jumped crazily. God, she wanted to see him so much. Even just hear the sound of his voice.
“Waiting in his car downstairs. You need to talk to him, Anna,” Danny said.
Furious tears welled up in her eyes as she glared at him. “You are my brother, and I am telling you that I don’t want this,” she said.
“It’s for your own good. You’ve been stewing on your own for too long,” Danny said, and she watched with growing panic as he turned and headed down the stairs to get Marc.
For a moment she just stood there, filled with fear, then she spun around and strode toward the back door.
MARC GOT OUT of his car as Danny exited Anna’s apartment block.
“Man, she is so damn stubborn!” Danny said, shaking his head. “Good luck—she’s in one hell of a mood.”
“I never thought it was going to be easy. Nothing with Anna ever has been,” Marc said wryly, an absurd hope in his heart. At least now he had a chance. He would sit her down and talk to her until the cows came home if he had to, but she was going to admit she loved him or give him a damned good reason why they couldn’t be together.
He had a gut feel about what that reason might be now that Danny had told him about Anna’s cancer scare. Danny had been guilt-stricken over betraying his sister’s confidence when he realized Marc didn’t know about her lumpectomy. He’d just assumed Anna would have told him such an important thing. But she hadn’t. In fact, she’d deliberately lied about how she got her scar. Which was why Marc knew it was important, pivotal even.
Clapping Danny gratefully on the back, Marc turned toward the building. He was going in.
He’d barely taken a step forward when the sound of a motorcycle being revved to life echoed down the apartment block’s driveway.
“Shit!” Danny said, breaking into a run.
“What’s going on?” Marc demanded, instinctively following the other man.
“Anna’s bought herself this monster of a motorbike. A bloody Ducati!” Danny explained, just as a motorbike shot past them and out into the street.
Marc caught Anna’s eye briefly as she braked and did a right-hand turn, her technique still a little dicey. He took in the prominent L plate on the rear of the bike and felt a clutch of fear in his belly.
“Anna!” he called, but she shook her head and gunned the throttle. The bike took off just as he lunged forward, and he ran out into the middle of the road, watching her accelerate to the corner of the street where it intersected with the main road.
“Goddamn it!” he cursed, every muscle tense with impotent anger.
Danny came to stand beside him. “She’s the most stubborn woman on the planet,” he said, almost admiringly.
His eyes still on Anna where she waited at the end of the street, indicator on to signal a left-hand turn, Marc opened his mouth to respond—just as Anna accelerated out into the main intersection. Almost immediately the heart-stopping sound of screeching tires cut through the air, closely followed by the distinct sound of a car hitting something solid.
“Jesus. No!” Marc swore, muscles bunching as he bolted forward. Danny wasn’t far behind him as he pounded his way to the end of the street. Marc’s lungs felt as though they were going to burst, he was so filled with panic.
Anna had to be okay, she had to.
He rocketed out into the main intersection where a number of cars had pulled up, hazard lights blinking. A middle-aged woman was standing outside her car, hands pressed to her face.
“I didn’t see her! I was just turning into my driveway and I didn’t see her!” The woman was crying.
Anna was lying on her side against the curb, the bike pinning her body to the ground. Two young guys were working to haul the bike off her as an older woman talked briskly into her mobile phone, calling an ambulance. Anna’s body was motionless, Marc saw, and a surge of nausea burned his throat.
“Get out of the way,” he hollered brusquely, shoving the shocked young men out of the way and bracing himself to lift the bike. With a surge of adrenaline-fueled power, he wrestled it off her, dropping it to one side and instantly crouching by Anna’s still form.
“Anna! Anna, please,” he said as he bent over her. She was lying on her left side, her helmeted head in profile to him. Fingers shaking, he slid his hand beneath her chin strap carefully, worried about a spinal injury. To his everlasting relief, he felt a strong and steady pulse beneath his fingers.
“Please tell me she’s alive,” Danny said, and he realized the other man was crouching beside him, his face creased with fear.
“She’s alive.”
The sound of an ambulance siren had never been so welcoming. Crouching lower still, Marc lifted the visor on Anna’s helmet, needing to see her face. Her eyes were closed, and he could see a dark bruise already forming over her left eye.
“She must have smacked her head against the curb,” he guessed.
Then firm hands were on his arm, and two paramedics were taking his place by Anna’s side.
He and Danny stood to one side as they slid a spinal collar on and moved Anna onto a spinal board. Throughout, she remained unconscious and Marc almost cracked his teeth, his jaw was clenched so tightly.
At last they were lifting her into
the ambulance, Danny climbing in to accompany her to the hospital.
“I’ll see you there,” Marc promised, already turning to head back to his car.
Anna was alive. And she had to stay that way because he knew without a doubt that he couldn’t live without her.
ANNA WOKE with the disorienting sensation of moving while prone. As full consciousness returned, she remembered what had happened. She’d been focused on Marc, thinking about how much she wanted him, then the car had appeared out of nowhere. She’d had a split second before it hit her, and his face had filled her mind.
She tried to move her head, registering the dull ache of a bruise on her face, and the fact that her neck was wrapped in a soft spinal collar.
“She’s awake,” someone said, and Danny’s face appeared above her.
His eyes were damp as he reached for her hand. “Hi,” was all he said, and she felt a rush of guilt as she saw how much she’d scared him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said.
Danny shook his head. “Shut up. You’re alive. Who cares about anything else?”
But Anna suddenly realized how close she’d come to dying and started trembling with the shock of it.
“It was so stupid. So stupid. What was I thinking?” she muttered over and over.
“Good question,” Danny said. “But it can wait.”
The ambulance slowed, then there was a jerk as it halted completely.
“Possible concussion, good pupil reaction, no sign of internal bleeding or broken bones,” one of the ambulance attendants was reciting to the nurse who helped them pull her gurney from the ambulance.
She’d been so lucky. Not even a broken bone! She stiffened suddenly, remembering the most important thing of all.
“Marc!” she said, trying to sit up. “Where’s Marc?”
Marc had been there. Marc had seen everything. He must have been horrified. She could only imagine how she would feel in a similar situation.
The nurse looked to Danny, who shook his head. “Marc’s on his way, Anna,” Danny said.
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Because suddenly she knew she’d made a terrible, terrible mistake. The worst mistake of her life. And she needed to tell him. She needed to ask him for a second chance.
“Miss, you need to stay calm,” the nurse was saying, her eyes on the blood pressure cuff on Anna’s arm. “I’m sure your friend will be here very soon.”
Anna subsided back onto the gurney and they wheeled her through a short corridor and into a cubicle. She could barely hold back the tears as she waited for them to have done with her, checking her pupil responses, cutting her expensive new leathers off to check for broken bones. All she cared about was Marc.
She barely listened to the doctor as he explained to Danny that they were happy with her overall condition, given the circumstances, but they would like to keep her in overnight to monitor her concussion. She kept her eyes glued to the small crack of the outside world visible between the curtains, hoping to see Marc’s tall form there.
Finally, she saw a dark blur of movement, and he was striding into the cubicle as though he owned it, dark eyes crisp and assessing as he took in the doctor to one side, the pressure cuff still attached to her arm, Danny holding her hand.
“Marc,” was all she could manage, and she sat up with a jerk and threw herself into his arms.
Despite the throbbing pain of her bruised face, it was like coming home, pure bliss. The smell of him, the feel of him, the essence of him. How she loved him.
She realized she was telling him just that, over and over. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Peppering kisses across his face, hands grabbing at him. After a few seconds he caught her face gently and held her still.
“Easy, Anna. It’s okay,” he soothed. Vaguely she was aware that Danny and the doctor were making themselves scarce, but she really didn’t care who was there.
“I’m so sorry. I thought I was making it better, but I was making it worse. I didn’t know,” she babbled.
Marc pressed a finger to her lips, infinitely tender. “I know about the cancer, Anna. I understand. I think I do, anyway.”
“I didn’t want you to be like my father. I didn’t want to die leaving so much behind,” she said, tears starting in her eyes.
“It’s not going to happen, Anna. We’ll make sure you have regular checkups. We’ll buy organic, for Pete’s sake. We’ll do whatever it takes. But we won’t do it without each other,” he said.
There was a great deal of determination and love in his tone and a serious expression in his eyes. Anna closed hers for a moment, scared to think how much she’d almost lost. If it hadn’t been for the Ducati…
“Thank God for that bike!” she said reverentially.
“Are you kidding me? I’m going to have the thing melted down to nothing, or crushed or whatever they do. Destroyed utterly. I never want to feel like that again in my life.”
“But I would never have realized how stupid I was being. I thought I was being sensible. Smart. But when that car was sliding toward me the only thing I could think about was how much I loved you, and how much I was going to miss out on.” She reached up a hand to touch his face lovingly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for being too scared to believe in a future, for not even trying for a future for us.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said simply.
Looking into his eyes, she knew he meant it. And that he loved her, body and soul. No matter what their separate intentions, no matter how hard either of them had tried to play the game and keep it to just sex, they’d wound up in the same place.
Marc pressed a kiss to her palm, then held it to his chest.
“I love you, Anna,” he said, ducking his head to kiss her.
And even though she was bruised and battered, with a drafty, inadequate hospital gown barely maintaining her dignity, Anna felt the familiar shift of desire deep inside as their tongues met and their lips caressed each other.
“Mmm,” she said against his mouth, and she felt him smile.
“Don’t go getting any ideas. You’ve got a head injury, and we’re in an emergency ward,” he warned her as she strained closer.
“So? I love you, too, by the way,” she said, kissing him again.
This time when they pulled apart there was a faint flush on his cheekbones, and he hooked a finger in the gaping neckline of her gown and snuck a peek at her breasts.
He made a strangled noise, but he stepped away.
“Later,” he promised her.
“But—” she objected.
“No buts. We’ve got forever,” he said.
And she realized he was right.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3707-4
CRUISE CONTROL
Copyright © 2006 by Small Cow Productions PTY Ltd.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
rchive.
Cruise Control Page 24
