A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance)

by Amber Leigh Williams

  Briar threw her hands up, exasperated. “I can’t find a thing to wear.”

  Olivia crossed her arms over her chest and propped a hip against the bureau to study her. “You look fine.”

  “I mean for Cole.”

  Olivia raised an intrigued brow as she watched Briar pace to the open drawer of her dresser. More blouses of varying hues and fabrics flew dismissively over her shoulder. “You two are...going out?”

  “Oh, my God. This is a disaster.” Briar sank to her knees and dropped her head to the drawer’s edge in defeat.

  “Come on. It can’t be that bad.” Olivia walked over, lifting her up with a firm hand beneath her shoulder. “Where’re you going? Wintzell’s? The Steamer? Ruby’s? That great new Mexican place?”

  “We’re not going to dinner. I’m going on a motorcycle ride.”

  A long pause trailed the words, and Olivia’s face fell in shock. Then she flung her head back and let out a loud bolt of laughter.

  Briar scowled. “You’re laughing? Really?”

  Olivia answered with more raucous laughter, dropping on the bed and hooting mercilessly.

  Briar sighed. “You can leave. Now.”

  Olivia sat up quickly, her face flushed with mirth. “I’m sorry. Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t look sorry.”

  Olivia cleared her throat and scrubbed her watery eyes before holding up her hands. “I’m good now. I’ve had my moment. Let’s find you something to wear.”

  Half an hour later, Briar stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, dismayed. “I should just call the whole thing off.”

  “You’ve never looked better.” Olivia stepped back to admire her creation.

  “I look like a teenage girl,” Briar muttered, picking at the tight, razorback tank Olivia had rushed over to grab from her own closet. “These jeans are way too tight.”

  “They look hot,” Olivia encouraged. “You’ve got awesome hips. You should flaunt them more often. No offense, cuz, but you dress like a librarian. What happened to that girl who jetted off to Paris, who wore clothes with color and just the right amount of chic?”

  “They weren’t exactly appropriate for an innkeeper.”

  “Whatever! That doesn’t mean you have to dress like your mother.”

  Briar sighed. “Are you done yet?”

  “Hold your horses. I’m banding your hair here so it won’t get in the way of the helmet.”

  “Helmet.” Briar’s eyes clouded with renewed doubts. “Queasy.”

  “Here. Have a stick of gum.” Olivia grabbed one from her purse and folded it into Briar’s mouth. “It’ll help with the nerves and make your breath minty. Guys appreciate nice breath almost as much as a female who puts out.”

  “You would know.”

  “I would,” Olivia admitted with a quick, mischievous grin. “Just one more thing. You need some color on your lips.” She dug around her makeup bag until she found the gloss. She gripped Briar firmly by the chin and smoothed it on. “It’ll make your lips look wet and Cole will spend the whole night thinking about them.”

  “What if I don’t want him to think about them?”

  “Don’t lie to yourself, Briar. Cole Savitt? I’d be wanting much more than a kiss by sundown.”

  “You should go in my place,” Briar suggested, grabbing on to her last thread of hope.

  “He invited you, not me. He’s crazy about you.”

  Briar’s eyes widened. “I can’t think that. I can’t let myself get ideas, Olivia. Anyway, this is far from a date. He’s just taking me out for a spin.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, cuz.” Olivia nodded approvingly at the end result before picking up the eyeliner, grabbing Briar by the chin again and smoothing it under her eyes before she could protest. “Look on the bright side. With this makeover, you’ll no longer have to worry about your virginity growing back.”

  “Enough!” Briar snapped, brushing away Olivia’s hand. “I’m going. And I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “I want all the deets,” Olivia insisted, trailing her to the stairs. “Down to the smallest, most insignificant moan.”

  “I’m not going to have sex with him,” Briar threw over her shoulder, careful of her voice as they neared the front door. She opened it and heard the Harley engine roar to life. Feet failing her, she stopped short, heart pounding. “I’m going to die.”

  Olivia laughed and gave her a good shove out the door. “Go get him, tiger.”

  * * *

  COLE LOST HIS breath. What in God’s name was she wearing? He was used to seeing Briar all clean and polished—covered up. The faded jeans hugged her hips and thighs in such a way that tangled his tongue around itself. He nearly swallowed it.

  And he’d never seen so much of her skin. The green of her tank suited the tone of her skin.

  Her lips were wet. He fought hard to keep from dampening his own.

  For some reason he couldn’t name, her honey-brown eyes seemed denser, darker. They sucked him in and refused to let go.

  He was in serious trouble.

  Shifting his numbed feet, he cleared his throat and summoned speech. “You, ah...you look nice.”

  Lips pressed together, she lowered her head and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He had an insane urge to press an openmouthed kiss just below the soft lobe. “Thank you,” she said.

  As her gaze returned to his, he struggled to think clearly. “Are you ready?” he finally asked.

  She lifted her hands, awkwardly. “As I’ll ever be.”

  He retrieved the spare helmet from the passenger seat. “I have to take precautions.”

  With a short nod, she stepped forward so he could fit it over her head.

  An enticing note of her perfume hit his nostrils and nearly made his eyes roll back in his head. He fought to focus on his fingers as she lifted her chin and they went to work securing the safety strap. “I, ah...don’t want anything to happen to your face—as much as it’s a shame to cover it up.”

  Her eyes lowered to his as they widened...softened...warmed. She held the stare, and the joints of his knees felt loose. His voice was almost guttural when he asked, “Does it feel okay? Not too tight?”

  She shook her head and lifted the visor to talk. “Um, Cole? There’s something you need to know....”

  His lips curved as he turned back to the bike. “I know.”

  “You do?” she asked, astounded.

  After lowering the helmet over his head, he lifted its visor and tightened the strap. “You’ve never been on a bike before.”

  “Is it that obvious?” she asked, rubbing her palms on her jeans.

  “A little,” he said wryly. “Just lean with me into the turns. And hold on.”

  “Sounds easy,” she said slowly, looking completely unconvinced.

  He threw a leg over the seat, straddling it. As exhaust smoke tickled his nose, he glanced at her, revving the engine. Fear coated her expression. Her skin turned the color of paste.

  Hell, if he didn’t coax her on now, she’d run for her life. And while that might have been better for the both of them, he found himself jerking his thumb behind him, motioning for her to get on.

  After a brief pause, she dropped her visor down and stepped to the bike. Gripping his offered hand for balance, she crawled on behind him and placed her feet on the small passenger pegs.

  It took a moment for her hands to slip over his waist. They clutched his shirt as he toed up the kickstand and revved the engine again, just so she could feel the vibration of the machine beneath her. He thought he heard her whimper and, for some reason, couldn’t fight a grin.

  Just this once, he was going to give Briar Browning the ride of her life. God help them both.

  * *
*

  BRIAR SAW THE quick, dangerous grin curl the corner of Cole’s mouth before he hit the gas and sped south down South Mobile Street.

  The force of the bike’s quick acceleration drove her back on the passenger seat. Her heart pounded in terror as she grabbed him around the waist tight, visions of flying off the back playing out vividly in her head.

  Who knew she’d meet her end on the back of a motorcycle?

  Once he settled the speed to a calm, leisurely pace, she opened her eyes and braved a look around.

  They cruised underneath overhanging branches strewn with Spanish moss. The azaleas, dogwoods and red bud trees were all in full bloom. The setting rays of the sun filtered through the leaves and dappled the pavement in random patches. The houses along either side of the road were old yet lovely and kempt, with shaded porches and tidy garden beds behind their picket fences.

  The bay was calm, the early evening clear. Idyllic. The flashing glare off the bay water obstructed the view of Mobile’s high risers, but the sailors were certainly taking advantage of the good wind and the last light, their masts toy-sized silhouettes against the horizon. Brilliant shades of scarlet and magenta streaked the clouds and painted the bay’s mimicking surface.

  The unexpected feel of her shoulders and thighs relaxing slowly subdued her. People on the sidewalks waved, Southern hospitality ringing true in their easy smiles. She loosened her viselike grip on Cole’s waist, loving the way fingers of wind lifted her hair and caressed her bare arms in warm, soothing strokes. Over Cole’s shoulder, she eyed the long, curvy road she knew better than the lines of her palm.

  Maybe she wouldn’t die tonight after all. The key was to relax, which wasn’t hard when the breeze smelled of summer blooms and tepid bay—such familiar, lulling scents. She leaned into the corners as he’d instructed, pleased that he slowed when they rolled over bumps.

  She began to realize her life might just be in good hands. Her lips curved as she watched those hands squeeze the brake, release then throttle the accelerator. They were strong, capable...just like the sturdy line of his back through his black T-shirt.

  She could easily dwell on how close they were. Even better, she could lay her head on his shoulder, close her eyes and let his warmth lull her into wistful complacency.

  Too easily she could imagine the heat of his body, skin to skin. The weight of him. His hands making themselves capable in another way entirely. She had little doubt he’d manage her long-abandoned needs as well as he handled the purring machine between his legs.

  A sweet, twining sensation sank into her midsection then spread outward, deepening and heating as it wrapped around her, a velvet blanket that simultaneously cosseted and drowned her in heat.

  Gasping for breath, she stiffened, realizing her hands had fisted around handfuls of his shirt. She shoved the visor of her helmet up and drank the rushing air until her face and thoughts both cooled.

  The mysterious stranger in her arms was turning out to be a dangerous man, indeed.

  * * *

  COLE DROVE AS the lukewarm sundown sank into cool dusk. He stayed on the scenic road, veering right when it forked. They wound their way around the Eastern Shore until it reached the pavement’s end and the water’s edge at Pelican Point.

  The lights on the Fort Morgan peninsula across the way were already twinkling as he parked at the shoreline and cut the engine. He pushed up his visor as Briar’s hands retreated hastily from around him and she slid off the bike. “I thought you might need a break.”

  “A little bit,” she admitted. She bent at the knees and rubbed her thighs—they likely tingled from the engine’s vibration.

  “It’s normal,” he explained. “You get used to it.” As her hands skimmed along the inner seams of those maddening, shapely jeans, he snatched his gaze away and trained his eyes on the water. “Looks like it’ll be a nice night.”

  “Perfect,” she agreed, straightening and walking to the edge of the pavement. “I’ve always liked this spot.”

  “What’s this body of water?”

  Gesturing behind him, she said, “That’s Weeks Bay. It’s linked to Fish River and Magnolia River just northeast of here. This point is where they all filter into Mobile Bay. Then they join the Gulf of Mexico at Fort Morgan peninsula.” She pointed to the shadow of the fortress of war on the dimming horizon.

  He jerked his chin in the same direction. “I imagine you’ve been there.”

  “Fort Morgan?” She shrugged. “Not much to see, really. The beach there is my favorite, though. It’s so far removed from Gulf Shores, Orange Beach and all the public beaches, it’s usually light on foot traffic.” Her lips curved into a smile. “After hurricanes, Olivia and I used to beg one of our parents to take us out there. The storm waves dredge up the floor of the Gulf and wash everything ashore. We’d find huge unbroken shells, jellyfish, starfish, driftwood—sometimes even boats. Once we found the hull of what looked like an old shipwreck.”

  As she remained submerged in the past, her smile faded. A frown took hold and she stepped back, distancing herself from the memories. “That was a long time ago.”

  “You were happier then,” he assumed, trying to figure out how best to turn the conversation back to the inn.

  Her brow creased. “I don’t know about happier, but I felt more in control of my destiny. And I had my mom.”

  He fought for a moment to find something neutral to say. “I can’t imagine waiting out a storm like that. In Huntsville, we’d only get fragments. Rain bands, maybe a tornado would tear through. But nothing like you’ve experienced, I’m sure.”

  “It’s a fact of life down here,” she explained, voice flattening. “We stayed through Ivan and Katrina. We had quite a bit of wind damage, though. A gale ripped one of the storm shutters off and blew it out to sea.”

  He raised a brow. “You stayed through that?”

  Lifting a shoulder again, she said, “We got lucky. Katrina practically split Dauphin Island in two and left nothing but pilings on the west end. A row of whole houses and several families’ worth of worldly possessions just vanished. Not a scrap of wreckage left behind.”

  “Christ,” he muttered with an unbelieving shake of his head. “You’re all nuts for living here, in the eye of the storm.”

  “Maybe,” she said with a soft smile, “but it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Again, he had to tear his eyes away from her profile. “It certainly looks worth it,” he replied, then turned the ignition switch. “Wind’s picking up. It’ll be getting chilly soon.”

  She frowned. “It’s ninety degrees.”

  “Yeah, but it’s cooler riding, especially at night. We better head back.” He held out a hand to her.

  Hers slipped warm over his, the long, graceful fingers rough around the edges. Though delicate in shape, they were hardworking hands. As his fingers closed around them and she mounted the passenger seat, her slender torso slid into place behind his, snugger, more comfortable than before.

  He inhaled sharply and cranked the engine quickly. Rolling the throttle back, he tried to drown out the lingering lust with the machine’s reckless roar.

  Those hands, gentle in their grip, sweet in their careful altitude between his hips and rib cage, not only reawakened the unsettled hunger, they lit a fire in his head, heart and groin.

  He cursed under his breath and snapped his visor into place. Using his feet, he backed away from the pavement’s edge, lifted them onto the pegs and gunned it.

  Her careful hold on him turned into a death grip, both arms latching tight around his chest as he sped off.

  Dark gathered, turning the sky to eggplant. The road was unlit by streetlights and deserted. He gave the eager engine more gas and soared faster underneath the canopy of trees along the narrow road. He didn’t take it easy around the bends, and her grip di
dn’t loosen. The tunnel effect of overlapping limbs and dense foliage on either side of the blacktop added a sense of weightlessness.

  He only slowed when they reached the road’s fork. Then he cut the speed back down to the limit. It took her a while to relax again—he must’ve scared the daylights out of her. But the adrenaline had thankfully burned off the simmer in his blood.

  He felt the chill of her hands through the thin cotton of his shirt as one covered the other to gather some warmth between them.

  They had several miles to go yet. He frowned at the cold spot over his sternum. Lifting his hand from the brake, he draped it over hers, his arm cloaking the skin of her bare forearm. It felt frigid under his.

  She stilled. Then she ducked farther behind him, hunching out of the wind and laying her head against the back of his shoulder.

  Neither of them moved until they neared the inn. He lifted his hand to squeeze the brake and swerve into the parking lot, coming to a stop under the magnolia tree. She eased back slowly and neither of them said a word as he turned off the bike and dropped the kickstand into the gravel.

  He took off his helmet as she rubbed warmth back into her thighs. For form’s sake, he checked the gauges before switching the lights off and pulling the key out of the ignition. Shifting to pocket it, he glanced back at her. “You all right?”

  “A little warmer,” she said in a voice coated in sleep.

  He felt the tug again down low and cleared his throat. “Need some help down?”

  “I’ve got it.” Still, her hand gripped his shoulder as she dismounted.

  Sliding off, he shifted from foot to foot, trying to get the blood moving. Preferably away from his pelvis.

  Cole followed her up the steps to the inn as she unlocked the door, holding it open for him to enter then shutting it at his back. She flipped the latch behind them and switched on the entryway light. “I guess I should thank you, Cole.”

  With a short smile, he led her down the hall to the kitchen. “Only if you enjoyed yourself.”

  “I did,” she said, a little surprised. “I’m sorry to say I didn’t expect to.”