High Heels & Bicycle Wheels

by Jane Linfoot

  ‘They’re definitely a new take on control briefs.’ She slid her hands over shiny satin, stretched across her butt, peered down at the mesh panels that streamlined her stomach to a board.

  ‘Control briefs? They’re certainly controlling me.’ His low laugh resounded across the space between them. He leaned back, shifted his hips, then his eyes turned to smoke.

  One twang, deep in her chest, and her legs turned molten. What the heck? His lips curled into the softest smile, which sent her stomach descending to her knees and left a hollow in her gut like she’d never felt before.

  ‘Cherry?’ His querying grate scraped across the floor, as his eyes narrowed, between sooty lashes.

  Butterflies crowded into the space in her chest. They’d been there before, just never this bad. Now their furious flapping was making her throat ache, her heart…

  Oh crap. She couldn’t say what was happening to her heart. One smile that had acted like an incendiary in her chest. Men with flamethrower grins should not be allowed out. Except it wasn’t men, it was Jackson. And that smile wasn’t making her feel like she wanted to shag the pants off him. That would have been acceptable, this was so much worse. It was making her feel like she wanted him to wrap his arms around her and never let go. What the hell was that about?

  He stretched out his hand, inclined his head, as his lips parted in anticipation. ‘Come here, I need to touch.’

  Come here? He might as well have asked her to fly to the moon. She swayed on her heels, on the spot. Feet superglued to the floor? An ache in her chest like someone just cleaved it open with an axe? Craving to be swallowed up? She was getting in far too deep here. Thank the God of accidents on Saturdays that this was one weekend only, which would come to a natural and satisfyingly abrupt end when Jackson flew back to Spain and his racing life on Monday.

  His eyes locked onto hers as he inclined his head, rubbed his thumb across his chin. Slowly, he pushed himself up from the sofa. She dragged in a breath, her body juddering crazily, as he took what seemed forever to cross the space between them. And then he was in front of her, his eyes just a little above hers.

  ‘You’re killing me here, Cherry.’

  She winced as his knuckle brushed across the jut of her nipple through the silk. ‘Am I?’

  She tried not to bite her lip and slid him the smallest smile instead.

  ‘You know you are.’

  Her scalp tingled as he stretched out his hand, combed his fingers upwards through the strands of her hair. Then he stretched his fingers around her head, drawing her towards him and into a slow, warm, velvet kiss that made her body hum. As his strong, hot body closed around hers, she knew she was ready to give him anything he asked for. One last sane thought flashed through her mind; she hoped he was in the mood for light and flirty, because if he asked for anything more, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to say no.

  Chapter 40

  ‘So, this is where you grew up?’

  Late that afternoon, sitting on a park bench, squinting at the sun seeping under the chestnut tree branches, Jackson blinked as Bryony’s hand slid onto his knee. No idea why he’d let her talk him into visiting his old childhood haunts, although the way he was stiffening as her fingers closed around his thigh might have something to do with it. What she’d done to him repeatedly last night and again this morning had torched him. Talk about explosive satisfaction. Let’s face it, these days, when Cherry Bomb asked for something – anything – he was pretty much powerless to deny it. But what was worse by far was that he didn’t even mind. Somewhere along the line he’d fallen under her spell and right now, thanks to the smoking hot sex, she’d got him wrapped right round her little finger. And then some.

  ‘Yep. This is the park I told you about and the Harry Potter house where we lived is across the other side. We’ll drive by there later.’ Kids on bikes were whizzing around in front of them. He stared straight ahead fixing his gaze on one boy undulating over the ramps. ‘This cycling area wasn’t here then, though. I organised this a few years ago.’

  ‘You did?’ Her grip on his leg shifted as her eyes widened.

  ‘It keeps the kids out of trouble.’ He shrugged off her surprised gaze, trying to downplay it. ‘The kids’ trust I set up is set to roll them out nationwide.’

  ‘That’s fabulous. I had no idea.’

  ‘Must be a million miles away from the kind of place you grew up. I imagine you probably had a park all to yourself.’ Not that he felt inferior but it was important to acknowledge their different backgrounds.

  ‘Not quite.’ She pursed her lips, and shook her head.

  ‘Your brother inherited a stately home.’ He rounded on her – this one she couldn’t get out of. ‘That suggests a certain level of wealth and comfort.’

  ‘Not really.’ She gave a sigh. ‘Edgerton only came to Brando when an uncle we’d never met fell off his yacht. We rarely saw that side of the family when dad was with us, and even less when he left. I guess he’d alienated them as much as my mother with his drinking.’

  ‘Drinking?’ He had a sudden feeling she was about to wipe the floor with him here.

  ‘That’s why my parents split up. He died of liver failure, so that charmed upbringing you’re implying didn’t exist. I’d have thought of everyone, Jackson, you would know that money is no guarantee of happiness.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I had material things, but I’d have swapped that in a heartbeat for a life with more emotional security.’

  His chest constricted as he met her impassioned gaze. Dammit for jumping in with his size tens again.

  ‘Your dad, I’m sorry; I didn’t know the details.’

  ‘Why should you? Everyone did their best to make up for it. Brando was a very protective big brother, my step-dad and my mum tried really hard. I have two lovely step-sisters who are both at uni now. It was pretty rough when Brando was a teenager, but in the end he went away to school. Despite everyone trying so hard, sometimes all a child wants is two parents that belong to them.’

  If the helicopters and interference were anything to go by, from where Jackson stood it seemed like Brando was still fulfilling that role.

  But one flash of the hurt in those deep-blue eyes had Jackson digging deeper into his own past than he could believe. ‘It wasn’t all roses in Harry Potter-land, you know. My mother walked when I was seventeen. My brothers and I stayed with our dad, but it wasn’t easy, and it definitely wasn’t comfortable.’

  Understatement of the year there, but he couldn’t begin to tell her how he went off the rails when his mother left, or how when there was no one left to control him his dad went ape.

  ‘I didn’t know that, Jackson.’ Now it was her turn to sound all guilty and sympathetic. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

  How about because he didn’t talk about it with anyone. Ever. He gave a grimace. ‘You didn’t ask.’ And moving swiftly on. ‘Anyway, enough about that, how are the borrowed jeans shaping up?’

  Worked like a charm. She immediately turned her attention to her legs.

  ‘They’re fab. Cressy chose the clothes for my weekend case from my old stuff, so I wouldn’t realise they were missing and guess what she was up to, but they have to be two sizes too small now. There was no way that zip was going up.’ She rubbed her hands over her hips giving a doubtful grimace. ‘My recent hot chocolate addiction has gone straight to my bum.’

  ‘I’m not complaining.’ He shot her a grin. ‘That jacket of mine looks great on you too.’

  She pushed her hands deep into the pockets, returned his smile. ‘The leather’s so soft, I’m not sure I’ll be giving this back in a hurry.’

  And just to drive the conversation right away from danger and keep her sweet. ‘Not wanting to talk about putting on weight, but isn’t it time you had your sugar fix?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘How about coffee and cupcakes?’

  Her anticipated whoop of delight didn’t come. Instead she hesitated, gave a gulp. No idea her hangover was that bad. She almost looked green fo
r a moment there.

  Whatever, she recovered quickly, sent him a reassuring smile. ‘Tea and toast would be lovely. Thanks.’

  ‘Okay, Cherry, tea and ibuprofen coming up.’

  Sitting at a pavement bistro table in afternoon sun, which slanted over the rooftops of the wide pedestrian area and bounced off the flinty stone setts, Jackson watched closely as Bryony swirled her spoon in the froth on top of the hot chocolate that she’d finally decided on. When exactly did he lose the ability to take his eyes off her? Finally, she propped the spoon against the cup side and raised her gaze to meet his. Given the way she nailed him with that stare, he sensed something big was coming.

  ‘So, last night when I asked how the training was going you said ask tomorrow.’ Her lips moved into a determined pucker that told him there was no place to hide. ‘How is it?’

  ‘Hard.’ He couldn’t avoid the question any longer. Maybe he’d been putting off admitting the truth to himself. ‘Okay, if I’m honest, sometimes it feels like it’s damn near impossible.’

  There. Out in the open. At last he’d said it.

  ‘I thought it might be.’ She inclined her head, gave a sniff. ‘I’ve been reading about it.’

  He felt his eyes widen. Cherry, reading about cycling again? Whatever next?

  He might as well level with her. ‘Last night I felt like a total fraud up there in the spotlight acting like a big hero when in training I haven’t even been keeping up with the young guys who are starting out.’ Somehow it was a relief to share it.

  ‘It might get better.’

  He gave a shrug. ‘And it might not.’

  She gave her drink one last stir, put her spoon on the saucer and tapped her thumbnail on her teeth pensively. ‘You don’t have to do it. You do know that?’

  ‘I’ve been programmed to race for as long as I can remember. When I was young, my dad drove us hard. Winning was the only way to get his approval.’ He wanted to offer some kind of explanation, without revealing how punishing and relentless his father’s drive had been.

  Jackson could still make out the blue of her irises, through the narrowed lines of her lashes.

  ‘However hard the training is now, it’s going to take a lot more guts for you to give up than for you to carry on.’ She stared at him again, this time piercing straight through to his inner being.

  Still no idea how she did that. He gritted his teeth and exhaled slowly. She had him on the ropes here. How the hell did she read him so well? Almost better than he knew himself.

  ‘There’s nothing scarier than the unknown, Jackson.’ Her hand reached towards him, and he felt her fingers close around his. ‘You might have to be brave here.’

  He glanced down at their hands clasped on the shiny table, and felt a bizarre warmth seeping right through his body. Cherry was right. And what’s more, the knot of tension that had been in his chest for as long as he could remember had eased. It was so damned obvious that he needed to give up. He should have seen the truth months ago, and perhaps he would have done, if he hadn’t had that cavern of fear about the future in his gut.

  ‘I know you’re strong enough to do it.’ The smile she spun him was simultaneously confident and reassuring. ‘And talking about important things, I’m so hungry and this looks wonderful.’ She sank her teeth into her toasted teacake and brushed a crumb off her lips as she chewed.

  Okay. It looked like she’d let him off the hook now, but he had to admit he was better for having been strung up there in the first place. And Cherry was the only person in the world who knew how to make him face things, and find answers all at the same time. No one else, not even the highly trained team psychologists, had her knack.

  ‘So, what do you fancy eating tonight?’ He steered the conversation to a more neutral place. ‘We could go into Manchester, or there are some good places round here.’

  ‘Sounds exciting.’ Her smile was way more enthusiastic than her voice, but that had to be down to her hangover.

  Undeterred, he flipped out his phone and scrolled down a list of restaurants.

  ‘If you’re going for atmosphere you can choose anything from Victorian cottages, to office blocks, converted warehouses, interior gardens with real trees, or decadent opulence complete with retro lampshades.’

  ‘Okay…’

  ‘And you can have traditional English, or you can go Japanese, Chinese, Indian, French with everything cooked at exactly 63 degrees, which might appeal to your exacting nature…’ He watched her pull a face at him for that one. ‘ … Thai fusion, or Pacific Rim … ’

  She eyed him levelly.

  ‘You know you could travel to all those places for real now, don’t you? If you gave up racing, you’d be free.’ Her direct gaze pulled him up short. Again.

  ‘Hey, you’re imposing your dreams on me here – a world tour is what you never got around to,’ he was compelled to protest.

  ‘And you could eat whatever you wanted too if you gave up.’ Her mischievous grin told him she was winding him up and enjoying it. ‘Think about the joys of all-you-can-eat carveries with the bottomless ice-cream option.’

  And then some.

  ‘If I give up. It’s a big “if”.’ It was important that he was keeping his options open as far as Cherry was concerned, at least until he’d spoken to Dan.

  But right now, sitting next to this vibrant woman who sent his pleasure gauge to levels he’d never imagined possible, he couldn’t think of anything better. World trip with Cherry. Life together, with Cherry. He ran the words through his mind. How the hell had he missed this before? It was a no-brainer. But it was about much more than the pleasure. It was about the fact that when he was with Cherry, he felt secure and fulfilled and whole and pretty much deliriously happy. Like the endorphin-buzzed high of a win, but on-going. And with Cherry, the thought of the future wasn’t scary at all, in fact it was mind-blowingly awesome.

  The curtain of her hair brushed across his wrist as she leaned towards him, and his insides shifted like a tidal wave just hit them.

  Holy crap. Did he just think that?

  Her warm scent filled his nostrils as her cheek rubbed against his.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a takeaway and a night in.’ Her hoarse whisper and the way she teased his earlobe between her teeth had his crotch jolting to instant attention.

  ‘You want to get your hands on my DVD collection?’ He slipped his hand under her jacket. ‘You really are up for watching Lassie Come Home?’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’ She gave a soft intake of breath as he ran his thumb along the gap at the back of her jeans. ‘Plus, I’ve nothing suitable to wear to go out in.’

  ‘Whereas there’s a whole pile of photo-shoot stuff you haven’t even tried on yet.’ His attempts to keep the lust out of his growl failed.

  ‘Exactly.’ Her purr in his ear sent his heartbeat into overdrive, then she gently leaned away from him.

  ‘Well that’s this evening’s plans settled then.’ He screwed the top off his smoothie bottle and emptied the apple-green contents into the frosted glass in front of him.

  Her eyes shone as she caught his eye over the rim of her cup. ‘I loved what you did to me just before by the way.’

  ‘Which bit?’ Knowing darned well that she was talking about the silk scarves, and the teasing, but making her say it herself was so much more exciting. He watched her push away the gingham tablecloth, cross her legs, then uncross them again.

  ‘The restraining bit.’ She squirmed. Aluminium café chairs never looked so sexy.

  ‘What? The part where I tied you to the bed?’ His voice was low and grating, but not low enough given the way the woman at the next table jerked upright, open-mouthed, clattering her tea cup onto her saucer.

  ‘That’s the bit.’ Her hand arrived in his groin, pressured the bump of his erection, and then she began to scrape the tip of him through the denim. ‘And what went after.’

  ‘What you’re doing with your nail is below the belt.’ Now he was the one
with the gaping mouth, and thank God for overhanging bistro tablecloths. ‘And talking of scarves, you could always return the favour?’

  ‘Sorry?’ The glance she shot him was insouciant.

  ‘You could tie me up?’ And damn the way that thought made his pulse race even faster.

  ‘Maybe.’ Her eyes blurred. ‘But I think I like it as it was this morning.’

  What? The sudden seismic shifts in his universe left him reeling. Do-as-I-say-Cherry passing up a chance to boss him around? Him looking forward to quitting racing? Finally finding someone who he felt comfortable enough to watch Lassie Come Home with?

  His world had turned upside down.

  And no question at all who was responsible.

  Chapter 41

  ‘Dan! How considerate of you to drop in at eleven on a Sunday morning.’ Jackson hovered by the closed door ignoring the loud knocking, gesticulating wildly across the room at Bryony.

  Bryony meanwhile skittered around, scooping up a thong and bra from the floor, stuffing a rogue suspender belt under a sofa cushion, then hitched Jackson’s wool socks as high up her bare legs as she could and yanked down the tail of the shirt she was wearing.

  ‘All good!’ She waved a hurried thumbs up to Jackson and flopped down on the sofa as he threw open the door.

  If Jackson sounded less than pleased about Dan’s interruption, for her it was a welcome distraction. She’d come out of the bedroom, and unintentionally plunged headlong into her Sunday morning forever fantasy. Again. The one where she came downstairs, into a kitchen, for a cosy Sunday morning, with the newspapers and her imaginary guy. The same fantasy she’d had for years and years about being married to Matt, which had got progressively more and more mashed up ever since that night in the log cabin in Scarborough with Jackson. Obviously it had been kicked off today by the Sunday morning thing here, and the absence of stairs between the bedroom and the kitchen in Jackson’s flat didn’t seem to matter a jot. What did matter was the faceless guy in her dream-vision. Since time began it had been Matt who turned around and grinned at her in her fantasy, and she was totally used to seeing him. But today when he turned around, the fantasy man in who was grinning at her wasn’t Matt at all, it was someone who looked just like Jackson. And it totally threw her off kilter. Holy shit! Where the hell had that come from? Her daydream head had to be playing tricks on her here. She couldn’t cope with stuff like this. Jackson was a temporary fixture, who was about to jet off into the blue yonder. He had no business crashing into her day-dreams. The only saving grace was that after tomorrow Jackson would be safely out of reach for good, and then she could put all her efforts into blotting him out of her head and getting on with her life again. She knew she should have stayed well away from this weekend. Cressy was going to have so much making up to do when she got hold of her, for landing her in this mess.