by Claire Adams
“No, no, I wasn’t even worried about that,” I lied. “I was just thinking about my son.”
“Is everything okay with him?”
“Yes. It’s just he’ll be starting school this fall, and it’s kind of strange. You know, my little boy is growing up and all that.”
Daniella nodded. “I’d say I can imagine, but it’s still weird for me to understand, I guess. I’ve prioritized the family business over dating, let alone getting married or having kids.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just waiting for the right guy.”
Movement caught my attention in the corner of my eye. I looked to the side, only spotting the shadow of someone who had already moved around the corner. Drew?
No. How could I still think that? Daniella had made it clear that her brother wasn’t exactly obsessed with me, so there was no reason he’d be watching me.
Or maybe he was, and it had nothing to do with wanting me. He was my boss, of sorts, and owner of the company. Maybe he was just wanted to make sure I was doing a good job.
The thought depressed me as I swallowed a spoonful of soup.
Chapter Nine
Drew
I licked my lips, my cock hard. Cat stood in front of me, grinning, a towel wrapped around her otherwise naked body, her gray eyes full of promise.
Her gaze flicked to my dick. “You want me to taste that? I’d love to.” She slowly licked her lips.
I groaned, wanting to rush over, push her down, and start fucking her mouth.
“Yeah, I want you to taste it,” I said, through gritted teeth.
She reached down, her delicate hand wrapping around the base of my cock. She was about to take me in, suck me off, and lick me like a lollipop. I couldn’t wait to explode in her mouth.
My eyes snapped open at the sound of my alarm. Just a damn dream.
Sitting up, I let out a loud groan. For the past two nights since the shoot had begun, Cat had invaded my dreams. It was hard not to think about her at work when even my nighttime mind was obsessed with fucking her.
I grunted and lay back down, doubting I was going to get a good sleep that night.
* * *
By Thursday, I’d become downright grouchy, so I was doing my best to hide in my office. I wasn’t enough of a dick to take out my bad mood on my employees, my sister, the photographers, or the models. They were all doing their job, and I was just letting nighttime visions and my raging cock piss me off.
The worst part was that we still had a week of the photo shoot left, and by now I regretted agreeing to this whole ad campaign. Daniella, the PR department, and Simon all seemed obsessed with getting a thousand pictures from each angle, convinced they’d find the perfect shot that would work for their needs.
Did it really make that much of a difference? I mean, a sexy picture was a sexy picture.
Then again, I wasn’t a photographer. I did find it hard to believe that we needed these women here for two weeks in order to get what we needed for a decent ad campaign.
It’s not like I could be objective when it came to Cat, either. Everything she did turned me on. She could probably be in flannel pajamas with her hair messed up, and I’d still want to fuck her. Tight jeans, crop tops, and halter tops were enough to make me want to cream in my pants.
I leaned back in my office chair, grunting. Damn it. The torture needed to be over, or I’d lose my damned mind. I could just see the news reporting on me being found in my office, sitting in my chair, drooling and repeating Cat’s name over and over.
Shit, I couldn’t even go down to the assembly floor anymore without risking seeing her, and that led to my cock hardening instantly, whether she was posing or not.
I didn’t understand the pull the woman had on me, and it was pissing me off. I’d slept with and been attracted to plenty of women in my life, and I’d never been around a woman who messed me up like her. There had to be something I was missing.
My recent vacation made me think. My sister might have been on to something. Maybe because I was overworked, I’d let myself get screwed up in ways I hadn’t realized until this ad campaign. It was hard to be sure.
I knew one thing that would help, one thing that always helped—a good ride on my bike.
A quick glance at the clock sent a wave of relief through me. They’d be finished up soon. Tonight, I figured I’d just go for a ride. If that didn’t push that woman out of my mind, nothing would.
* * *
The wind rushed past me as my bike zoomed through the mountain roads. I inhaled deeply, focusing on the vibrations of the bike. I’d needed this—time away from worrying about Cat or the company. It might just be for a few hours, but I had to remember I was a biker first, businessman second, even if I’d sworn to make sure the company did well for my family.
I’d never be able to push bikes to people if I couldn’t scrub away my worries with a good ride. The minute that happened, it would mean I wasn’t a biker anymore, and people would smell my lack of authenticity and belief in our products.
I grinned to myself, already feeling better. The ride was what I’d been missing, not a few minutes to my house and back, but a real, true ride where I just focused on my bike and the road.
I’d experienced it during my recent weekend vacation, but every minute I was gone, I worried about the company, and that proved how close I was to losing my biker’s edge. I’d gone from a free man, a man of the road, to a man who showed up at the office every day like every other schmuck. A man who worried about and answered to a damned board of directors.
Who cared what a bunch of bean counters in suits had to say? My dad had built up the company, and it was his vision that sustained it.
I grunted as I changed lanes to pass some old man in a sedan going about fifteen under the speed limit. He turned to glare at me, but then quickly turned forward, probably worried I was in some deadly biker gang and would run him off the road.
I’ll do what I can, Dad. I’ll keep this company growing. I just don’t want to lose myself in the process.
I owed it to my dad to keep the company alive, but that didn’t mean trading my leathers in for a button-up shirt and slacks didn’t chafe. It was my choice after all, but it didn’t have to change.
* * *
About an hour later, I sat on a park bench staring up at the night sky. Stars dotted the sky, but the light of the city blocked most of them out. Too much light pollution. I’d driven places where there wasn’t a town for a hundred miles. There, when you looked up, you saw the sky—not the dull, muted boring sky of a big city, but a dark tapestry covered in bright dots of light and the Milky Way.
Such a sight was another thing I’d lost when I’d given up the open road for the CEO’s office, but that wasn’t why I was so unsteady.
I clenched my fists. It wasn’t any of that. It was Cat. That damned woman was the problem.
I’d gone on the ride to clear my head, but no matter where I went or what I focused on, my mind always came back to her. I’d decided there was no real mystery to this. It’d just been too long since I’d gotten laid, and I needed to find a distraction. At this point, I didn’t care. Any distraction would do, an easy woman to scratch an itch. Before I’d thought that wasn’t the case, but it was the only thing that made sense now.
Just banging some chick I’d picked up wasn’t usually my style, but it was the only solution I had. I wasn’t sure I’d last another week with that woman strutting around my company looking like packaged sex. As it was, I was surprised I hadn’t passed out from all my blood being in my dick all day.
My stomach grumbled.
I stood and headed toward my bike. Before I hit a bar, I’d go grab some food. It wasn’t like I’d be able to concentrate on picking up a woman if I were starving.
A quick five-minute drive up the road brought me to a little café. I hadn’t been there before, but it looked okay. Not that I would have minded some dive serving nothing but deep-fried food. I just needed a little fuel for a night of s
teaming up the sheets, not fine dining.
Throwing open the door, I strode into the café. A sign told customers to seat themselves, so I headed for a booth and set my helmet down in the seat.
Yep. Just maybe a burger and some fries to settle my stomach down, then I’d go find some woman driven crazy by the sight of a man on a bike. Finally, I have Cat out of my system.
I’d just finished the thought when I spotted her.
Heat shot through my body, and my cock instantly hardened. There she was, the woman driving me crazy.
Cat sat in a booth on the other side of the cafe with her son beside her and an older woman across from her. Given the resemblance, I was pretty sure it was her mother.
How damned unlucky could I get?
I sucked in a deep breath, wondering what to do. If I tried to turn and leave, she might notice me, and that would bring up questions. Maybe if I sat in my booth and didn’t draw her attention, she wouldn’t notice me. That was my plan.
That plan lasted all of three seconds.
Jack glanced at me and then started waving his arm.
“Drew! Drew!” he shouted.
Cat’s face twitched, and she shushed him, but then she looked my way and blinked.
I ran a hand through my hair and picked up my helmet. There was no escape now. A quick hello should be enough to show that I wasn’t trying to avoid her at least.
With a grim smile, I closed on their table and high-fived Jack. I nodded to the older woman and waited to see what Cat would do. Maybe I’d get lucky, and she’d tell me they were just about to leave.
Cat’s pupils dilated, and she pursed her lips. I had no idea how to interpret that. She could be pissed, or she might want to suck my cock like she’d done in my dreams.
“Drew,” she said, nodding toward the older woman. “This is my mother, Helen. Mom, this is Drew Stroker.”
I gave Helen a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Helen.”
“And you, Mr. Stroker.”
“Please, just call me Drew,” I said with a grimace.
“Well, nice to meet you then, Drew.”
I offered them another smile, as silence passed between us for a few seconds.
“I should be sitting down,” I said. Glancing over my shoulder, I looked over where I’d started to sit before. What the hell? When I’d entered, there had been plenty of open spaces, but in the short while I’d been talking to Cat and her mother, the entire place had filled up.
“Or not.”
“You should sit with us,” Jack said. He pointed to Helen. “You could sit beside Grandma.”
I waited for Cat to say something one way or another. The last thing I needed was to piss her off by forcing my way into her dinner out.
“The more, the merrier,” Cat said.
Helen smiled and scooted over, and I sat down.
Almost on cue, the waitress appeared. As Cat ordered, I watched her, and it was clear that tension was radiating off of her. She didn’t want me there; I could tell.
She probably was afraid to tell the man paying her salary to go take a hike. That might be the case, but I could definitely take a hint.
Besides, the whole reason I’d gone on a ride in the first place was to clear this woman out of my head, and now here I was having dinner with her. I needed to get my food and think about the best way to get her out of my system. Suddenly, though, the idea of a one-night stand with another random woman had lost its appeal.
Perfect. I knew what was happening in my dreams tonight, but that didn’t mean I had to continue to piss Cat off and torture myself in the process.
When the waitress came to me, I was ready.
“I’ll take mine to go,” I said, after ordering. I shrugged at Cat and Jack, explaining, “I was just stopping by on my way home.”
Chapter Ten
Catherine
Just kill me.
I couldn’t believe my luck. I’d lived in Denver all my life, born and raised. This wasn’t a tiny town by any means. It was a legitimately big city. If you counted the entire metro area, there were almost three million people.
In my entire life, I’d never, ever run into Drew anywhere, and that included the years when my husband had been riding bikes himself. I knew about Stroker motorcycles, but it’s not like I knew anything about the Stroker family, let alone Drew.
Suddenly, I couldn’t turn around without running into the man. I wouldn’t be surprised at this point if he showed up to drop off a package at my house as a UPS driver, or be in the waiting room at my next doctor’s appointment.
It wasn’t like he was stalking me, either. He’d already been at the ice cream parlor when I showed up. It just happened to be one his relative owned.
I wanted to groan and cover my face, but I kept a forced smile on my face instead.
That was bad enough, but warmth had already pooled in my center because he was sitting across from me. My nipples had instantly hardened and were actually painful under my clothes. It’s like the guy emitted pheromones or something.
This was insane. Of all the people I had to be attracted to, why did it have to be another biker? It’s not like they were my type. I loved my husband despite his love for bikes, not because of it.
“How do you know my daughter?” Mom asked.
Good, she could take the pressure off me to talk.
“Oh, she’s modeling for my company,” Drew said. “She is working as part of a big ad campaign we have for a new product. Her and two other models.”
Mom looked Drew up and down for a minute, her lips pursed together. “She mentioned a high-paying job, but she never did tell me the details. What does your company sell, Drew?”
I could hear the doubt in her voice. It made sense. Drew looked more like someone you’d see on Sons of Anarchy rather than in corporate America, especially with his full leathers on, though his tattoos weren’t that visible since he still had on his jacket.
The way she was looking at him, I half-expected she thought he was dealing meth or something, and the photo shoot was for Meth Cookers Quarterly.
“It’s not obvious?” Drew said.
“Not to me, at least,” Mom said.
He grinned and pointed through the window at his bike.
“Motorcycles.”
Mom laughed softly. “Oh, now that you say it, I suppose it does make sense. Who would buy a motorcycle from a man who looked like a stockbroker?”
Drew chuckled. “I do tend to dress a little more professionally at work, but you make a good point.”
At that point, she turned and raised an eyebrow at me. I knew exactly what she was thinking without her saying a word. She’d heard nothing but complaints about the subject over from me the last three years, and now I was modeling for a motorcycle company.
I wanted to explain that it wasn’t like the irony hadn’t gone through my head this last week as well. But she knew how much I needed the money. Then again, she’d also been on me for a while to quit modeling completely and get a regular job, so she’d probably try to use my discomfort against me.
It didn’t matter. I needed to save up enough money for Jack’s schooling, and with a few more good jobs like the Stroker Motorcycles campaign, I’d be set.
I was certain I’d hear about taking this job from Mom when I got home, but I was glad she didn’t make a big scene right there. If Drew found out how much I hated bikes, he still might fire me. Given what Daniella had told me, he hadn’t even wanted me for the ad campaign to begin with, so he might even be looking for a reason to get rid of me. It didn’t help that I was always so awkward around him.
“I need to go potty,” Jack said.
Mom cleared her throat, “I’ll walk him over.” Something lingered in her eyes, something mischievous, and I didn’t want to know what it was. Probably just more plotting about not modeling.
Drew moved so Mom could get out. She took Jack’s hand and led him off toward the bathroom.
“Why?” Drew said when they turn
ed the corner.
“Why what?” I asked, returning my attention to him. We hadn’t been talking about anything that would lead to him asking that kind of question, so I was totally confused at that point.
“Why do you hate bikes?” he said, his face neutral.
I grimaced. Had I slipped up and mentioned to someone and he’d overheard? “Who said I hate bikes?”
“You did.”
“I said no such thing,” I sighed, regretting my snotty tone.
Drew shook his head. “No, you haven’t said it with your words, but you’ve said it with your face and body. I’ve seen it more than a few times now. Sure, you can hide it during the actual photo shoot, but when you let your guard down, it’s obvious. It’s not that you just dislike bikes. I’m pretty sure you hate bikes.”
I sighed and averted my gaze. I wasn’t going to lie to his face, so I waited for him to tell me I was fired. There was no way he’d want a motorcycle-hater in his ad campaign.
As if reading my mind, he said, “You know, just because I run a motorcycle company doesn’t mean I think everyone has to love bikes,” Drew said, “but the one thing I don’t get is why someone who hates motorcycles so much would get a job to model for them. It’s like you’re forcing yourself, and it hurts. I’m just trying to understand it.”
I forced myself to look in his eyes. The accusation in his dark eyes hurt. “Is it really so hard for you to understand?”
“Yeah, actually, it is. So please explain it to me.”
“I’m sure you don’t like everything you have to do. It’s a job—I need the money. It’s as simple as that. It’s a well-paying job at that. If I only modeled for products I love, I’d barely have any jobs.”
Drew scratched an eyebrow. “Okay, I guess that answers the question of why you’d take the job when you hate motorcycles, but it doesn’t answer the more important question.”
His gaze hardened, and my heart kicked up.
“What is that?” I said, swallowing, praying that I’d get out of this conversation without getting fired.
