The Greatest Risk

by Cara Colter

  “Just tell me, what am I doing in your bedroom, in your bed?”

  Though it would have been fun to string her along to the point of near hysteria, he decided to put her out of her misery.

  “We fell asleep on the couch. I woke up and noticed you were getting a crook in your neck, so I carried you in here.”

  “Is there a Boy Scout badge for that?” she asked suspiciously. “Was it your good deed for the day?”

  “Yes, ma’am, that was my only motivation. A good deed for the, er, night.”

  “I’m not the kind of girl men scoop up in their arms and carry around!”

  He thought that was a crying shame, a situation he might have to rectify. She apparently had no concept of how sexy men found the Me Tarzan, You Jane scenario. From the look of prim remoteness on her face she had quite a bit to learn in the sexy department.

  It occurred to him that he was contemplating being the one to teach her, and the thought made his throat and mouth go dry as sandpaper. “Well, you were exactly that kind of girl last night.”

  “And your presence beside me is explained how?”

  “One bed,” he said. “And I am recovering from a back injury. One night on that couch and it probably would have been back to the hospital for me. I crawled in beside you. It was nice.”

  “What was nice?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Lying down beside you.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “Maggie Mouse, you know how to insult a man! If there had been more than that, don’t you think you’d remember?”

  She smiled, a wobbly smile. “I suppose. I’ve just been acting strange lately. A stranger to myself. I can’t always predict what’s going to happen next. I mean the last thing I would have ever predicted was this. Waking up with you.”

  Luke laughed. “In my world, I’d call not knowing what happens next a good thing.”

  He looked at her lips, at her sleep-tousled hair, at the hazel of her eyes, at the swell of her breasts beneath the blanket.

  He knew exactly what was supposed to happen next.

  With anyone but Maggie.

  She leaped from the bed. “I’m going to be late for work. I have to go home and shower. I have to change. Look at my clothes!”

  He was looking at them. They were adorably rumpled. Her blouse was binding across her breasts.

  “Call in,” he suggested. “Tell them you won’t be in today.”

  Her eyes went very round, as if he’d asked her to help him hide a bag of money with a bank emblem on the sack.

  “I have never done that,” she said, “not unless I was sick.”

  “Me, either. Or at least rarely. But I called in this morning and said I wouldn’t be on the job site today.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “It’s time for us to get to know each other better, Maggie. I want to spend the day with you. Come on, play hooky with me. It’s a gorgeous summer day.”

  She took a deep breath. She looked everywhere but at him.

  He got out of bed and padded over to her. He took her chin between his fingers. “Please?” he said.

  She looked him full in the face, her eyes bright with the longing just to say yes.

  “What is your idea of getting to know a person?” she said. Her eyes moved uncomfortably to the bed and back to his naked chest.

  From the way she licked her lips nervously Luke was pretty sure she liked his naked chest a whole lot. He flexed his biceps for her and her eyes fastened on it with fascination that was both innocent and intrigued.

  This hardly seemed like the same woman who had attacked him in the front seat of her Volkswagen a few short days ago. Naturally, he thought that would be a wonderful way to get to know her, their lips and limbs tangled in the most erotic ways.

  On the other hand, he’d gotten to know women like that before. It was a bit like putting the cart before the horse.

  He wanted to know Maggie. He was astounded to find he wanted to do things right, to obey the rules.

  That was a brand-new one for him. He wasn’t sure he knew what the rules were.

  But he was pretty sure if he followed Nurse Nightmare’s advice and just required more of himself, he’d do all right.

  “I was thinking we could pack a picnic and go to one of my favorite places in the country.”

  Her eyes told him he’d gotten it right. That he had somehow managed to be romantic. By God, it was true. He was romancing Maggie Mouse, and enjoying it immensely, too.

  “Oh, Luke, that does sound wonderful. I’ll call the office and rearrange some of my appointments. And then I’ll go home and shower and change. I could be back here in, say, an hour?”

  He found himself not wanting to let her go, not even for the hour it would take her to go and change and clean up.

  That was a totally different experience for him. Usually when he woke up beside a woman, he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

  But if Maggie left, she might come to her senses and never come back.

  “Why don’t you just grab a shower here, and I’ll lend you something to wear? It’s not as if we’re going to the governor’s ball.”

  “You’ll lend me something to wear?” she asked doubtfully. “You don’t have women’s clothing here, do you?”

  “Maggie, that would just be plain weird. Trust me.”

  Half an hour later he regretted his suggestion. Maggie emerged from the shower with a pair of his jeans on, cinched at the waist with a belt, rolled up at the cuffs. She had on one of his shirts, and it fit her so differently than him, hugging her curves. The irony was that the men’s clothing was making her look erotically and completely feminine. Her hair was wet and wild, and she combed the tangles out of it with her fingers. Even from here he could smell the fragrance of her.

  He wasn’t going to tell her, but Maggie in his clothing, with her hair hanging in wet ropes that were making the shirt somewhat see-through, put the sexiness of that red dress she had worn the other night to shame.

  He had never wanted more just to sweep a woman off her feet and carry her, caveman-style, back to his bed.

  He managed, he was not sure how, to restrain himself. He’d made a quick trip to the corner bakery while she showered, not trusting himself to be in the same house with her, thinking of that water pouring down over the creaminess of her skin. He’d picked up a few things for breakfast and lunch. Now, he left some bagels and strawberry-flavored cream cheese out for her while he had his own shower.

  “Are you ready to meet my girlfriends?” he said when he emerged a short while later.

  “And they’re where? Locked in the cellar?”

  “Close,” he said. “The workshop.”

  Then he took her out to the shop and introduced her to his other three girls, the Harley, his Honda dirt bike and the wrecked street bike.

  She looked at the wrecked bike for longer than the other two. She reached out and touched some of the twisted metal. When she looked back at him, her face was pained.

  “The bike looks like this, and you survived?”

  “I’m tougher than I look.”

  Still, he could tell she was a bit shaken, and so he hurriedly filled the saddle bags with lunch things, then strapped the helmet to her head. He rolled the big Harley out of the garage. It purred to life, and she hopped on behind him.

  “Hold on to me tight,” he said. Her arms went around him, and he gave the big machine a hit of gas. It leaped forward and she gave a little shriek and tightened her hold, locking her fingers around his waist, pressing her cheek into his shoulder blade. Her legs were tucked behind his legs, and he was not sure if it was his imagination or reality that wonderful warmth radiated from where those legs formed a sensuous V around the small of his back, and the line of his rear.

  He was so aware of everything as they rode, as if he had been transported into a world that vibrated with life and color and texture such as he had never known before.

  “Are you taking me to Multnomah Fa
lls?” she asked over the roar of the engine when he turned off onto the historic Columbia River Highway.

  The well-known falls were just outside a village known as Bridal Veil. Much as he liked her, he was not taking Maggie any place with a name like that!

  “Better,” he called back, and turned off the main highway that led to Bridal Veil.

  But he was almost sorry he had a destination in mind, and when they arrived at the next turnoff he considered going straight. He did not know what the road ahead held, because he had never traveled it, but suddenly in the sparkling light of a summer morning spent with a beautiful woman, it felt as if it didn’t matter what it held. It would all be an equal adventure.

  That road felt like a metaphor for his life, which was probably why he chose to turn off on the more familiar route after all.

  Maggie got off the bike, undid the strap of the helmet and shook her hair free. She looked around, astounded.

  “This is your idea of a romantic place in the country? Better than Multnomah Falls?”

  “Who said anything about romantic?” he asked.

  In fact, it was one of his favorite places in the country, a dirt bike track with full rental facilities.

  “Trust me,” he said with a wink.

  Moments later he had introduced her to Leonard, the owner-operator of Skookum Leo’s Revvin’ Rides. She was completely outfitted with gloves and pads and good boots, and they were both fitted with dirt bikes.

  Luke gave her her first lesson. By the time she had stalled the bike three times and moved less than fifty feet she was howling with laughter.

  This was the way he had always dreamed of seeing her. So carefree, playful, without any inhibitions.

  When it was apparent she had no aptitude for learning to ride the bike, despite how much fun she was having, he climbed on behind her, covered her hands with his and physically moved her through the motions of gas and brake and changing gears.

  It was his turn to have fun later, as she bumped them experimentally along a little novice track, forcing him to hold on to her for dear life.

  Unfortunately, once he had maneuvered her through the basics, she caught on quickly and wanted to do it herself.

  “Hey, wait,” he called as she took off, leaving him in a shower of dirt. He mounted his own bike—not nearly as responsive and powerful as the Honda he had in his workshop, but still a good machine—and chased after her. She showed an amazingly bold side, glancing behind at him with fiendish glee, maneuvering the bike so he couldn’t get by her.

  “Slow down,” he yelled, but either she couldn’t hear him over the roar of the engines, or she was going to be a hard woman to slow down once she had sped up.

  Luke couldn’t help but wonder how that particular trait was going to translate in other areas of her life, such as the bedroom. Not that he could allow his mind to wander there if he didn’t intend to have another major motorcycle accident!

  To stop her, he actually had to get off his bike, wait for her to come around the track and flag her over.

  “What?” she said breathlessly. “Luke, this is so much fun. I just couldn’t have imagined.”

  “I thought we’d break for lunch. You’re getting a sunburned nose.”

  “You, too,” she said. He noticed she was still somewhat reluctant as he led the way off the track and to a quiet little picnic area under the trees.

  Because it was a weekday, they didn’t even have to listen to the constant high-pitched drone of engines. They had the place to themselves.

  A little creek ran by, and Maggie took her sandwich, rolled the pant legs up even higher, kicked off her rented boots and dangled her feet in the water.

  He stared at her feet, mesmerized by the daintiness of them. He had a little thing for feet. Her toenails were painted bright pink, a part of her true nature hidden from the world inside her shoes.

  She patted the spot beside her. “I’m not sure when I remember having so much fun. A long time ago, I guess. My dad brought us into the mountains from time to time, Mount Hood, Timberline Lodge. We played in the snow and tobogganed. I remember I laughed like that until my sides hurt.”

  Luke thought her life had become much too serious if the last time she had let go so completely was when she was a child. Still, he knew the perfect remedy for it—him!

  “Didn’t you know that’s my motto?” He kicked off his boots, rolled off his socks and plunked his feet in the water. He acknowledged that maybe if he had a thing or two to teach her about having fun, she might have a thing or two to teach him about bliss. In all the times he had ridden here, he had never once thought to dip his hot feet in this tiny, gurgling creek.

  “I didn’t know you had a motto.” She wiggled her toes.

  “Well, I do, and that’s it. Live life as if you were tobogganing.”

  She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “What a wonderful plan for today,” she said.

  They talked over lunch, and Luke could not remember ever being with anyone when the conversation had flowed this easily, switching from lightness and laughter to deep things and then back again.

  Maggie was as multifaceted as a diamond. Amber had had one dimension, but Maggie had many. He was pretty sure it would take a man a lifetime to know Maggie.

  “Ready to get back at it?” he asked. He leaned toward her, inviting a sweet little after-lunch kiss.

  Apparently she now preferred motorcycles, because she missed the gesture completely in her rush to pull her feet out of the creek. She buried them in his shirt to dry off. Temptation teased him, and won. He captured her foot and held tight when she tried to pull away.

  “Don’t tickle me,” she pleaded. “I hate being tickled.”

  He was pretty sure that was because no one had ever tickled the delectable little Miss Maggie Mouse in the right place or the right way.

  “I owe you a foot massage,” he said, “for the one you gave me last night.”

  “Careful you don’t put me to sleep!”

  Oh, he had no intention of putting her to sleep. When she quit struggling, he lifted her foot to his mouth.

  “Oh, don’t,” she whispered, entranced.

  So, of course he did. He planted a lingering kiss on her instep.

  She went very still and he reminded himself to take it slow. Even so, he ran a finger down the bottom of her foot from toe to heel and enjoyed the power of making her shiver.

  “Are you sure you don’t like to be tickled, Miss Maggie Mouse?”

  “Positive,” she said, but her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were heated as she yanked her foot away from him and stuffed it back in her boot.

  “Race you,” she said.

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  In moments they were back on the bikes, roaring up and down little hills, and through little hollows, around tight turns.

  When he finally managed to wrest the lead from her, he did a bit of showing off. He took air, and lots of it. He threw his legs free of the bike. He twisted the handlebars back and forth. He landed hard and running, and glanced back. She had stopped.

  He went back to her.

  She had taken her helmet off and was staring at him, not looking too impressed with his great show.

  “Do you think that was wise?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re just out of the hospital. What are the consequences if you reinjure your back?” Her face had that pinched, pained look it had had when she’d seen his wrecked motorcycle in the workshop.

  “I didn’t take that much air,” he said, but he could feel himself resenting her. One thing he did not like was being controlled. Everyone who had ever tried it had ended up being very sorry.

  She must have read something in his face correctly, because without another word she put her helmet back on. But she didn’t go out on the track again. She went back to the parking area.

  “I think that’s enough for me for one day,” she said. “I’m tired. And my n
ose feels sunburned.”

  He tried to see if this was a continuation of the trying to control him, but she appeared utterly sincere. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see the day had dissolved.

  He was sorry that it had. He did not want to say goodbye to the day, despite the small conflict that had cast a shadow on it.

  “You want to barbecue steaks at my place tonight?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He squinted at her. If she was going to try and punish him for doing what he did best—living his life as if he was tobogganing—it was over right now. Before it started.

  He felt the sharp sting of regret at the thought.

  But he was granted a reprieve.

  “It’s my turn,” she said. “You can come to my place for dinner.”

  “You can cook, too?”

  “What do you mean ‘too’?”

  “I meant as well as riding a motorbike. And looking gorgeous.” And feeling wonderful to wake up beside.

  “No, I wasn’t planning on cooking,” she admitted, looking pleased at the compliment. He knew not nearly enough men had told Maggie she was gorgeous.

  “I mean I can cook simple things like cookies and cake out of a box. Things like turkey dinner are out.”

  “I’m disappointed,” he teased. “I wanted you to rush home and whip up a turkey dinner in the July heat.”

  “I know something better. I know where the best takeout in Portland is.”

  “You’re on,” he said. He knew they should sort it out right now, that thing that had happened back there. It was his life and his back, and nobody was going to tell him what to do with either of those things. To ask him not to take risks would be like asking him not to breathe.

  On the other hand, it felt as if it would spoil the moment. He was not the best communicator and he would probably manage to offend her. Then she might retract her dinner invitation.

  And every bachelor wanted to know where to get the best takeout in town.

  Nine

  Dumb, dumb, dumb, Maggie thought, hurrying along the corridor of her building and inserting her key into the lock of her own apartment.

  What had she been thinking asking Luke to come here? She stepped inside and looked around. She had always loved her apartment. It was a third-floor walk-up in an historical brownstone close enough to Children’s Connection that most days Maggie could walk to work. Her space was charming, with its plaster detail and oak floors and stained glass in the upper frames of the French-pane windows.