Thorn's Challenge - Brenda Jackson [5]
Even now.
Even that night he had kissed her.
She sighed, not wanting to remember that night although she knew she’d never forget it. “Thorn, what are you doing here?” she cleared her throat and asked.
“Isn’t there a card game here tonight?” he responded in a voice too good to be real. A deep huskiness lingered in its tone and the throaty depth of it held a sensuality that was like a silken thread wrapping all around her, increasing the rhythm of her heart.
She cleared her throat again when he raised his brow, waiting for her response. “Yes, but you’re early. It doesn’t start until nine.”
“Nine?” he lifted a dark, brooding brow. “I could have sworn Stone said the game started at seven-thirty.” He glanced down at his watch. “All right, I’ll be back later,” he said curtly and turned to leave.
“Thorn?”
He turned back around and met her gaze. He was still frowning. “Yes?”
Tara knew that now would be a good time to talk to him about the Lori Chadwick’s calendar. She had mentioned it to Chase Westmoreland when he’d stopped by the hospital after Mrs. Chadwick’s visit, and he’d said there was no reason for her not to ask Thorn if he’d do it. After all, the calendar was for charity. He had warned her upfront, however, that she had her work cut out for her in persuading Thorn to do the calendar. Thorn, he’d said, detested a lot of publicity about himself. According to Chase, the last time Thorn had been involved in a publicity stunt had ended up being a love affair from hell. No amount of further probing had made Chase give her any more information than that. He had said that if she wanted to know the whole story, Thorn would have to be the one to tell her.
“You’re welcome to hang around until the others arrive if you’d like. You won’t have that long to wait. It’s only an hour and a half,” she said.
“No thanks,” he didn’t hesitate in saying. “In fact, tell my brothers that I’ve changed my mind and won’t be playing cards tonight after all.”
Tara watched as walked over to his bike, straddled his thighs over it, placed the shiny black helmet over his head, started the engine and took off as if the devil himself was chasing him.
This, Thorn thought, is the next best thing to making love to a woman.
Bearing down, he leaned onto the bike as he took a sharp curve. The smooth humming sound of the bike’s engine soothed his mind and reminded him of a woman purring out her pleasure in bed. It was the same purring sound he would love to hear from Tara Matthews’s lips.
Even with Atlanta’s cool January air hitting him, his body felt hot, as a slow burning sensation moved down his spine. He was experiencing that deep, cutting, biting awareness he encountered every time he saw Tara. His hands tightened their grip on the handlebars as he remembered how she had looked standing in the doorway wearing a pair of jeans and a tank top. He found her petite, curvy body, dark mahogany skin, light brown eyes and dark brown shoulder-length hair too distracting on one hand and too attracting on the other. It rattled him to no end that he was so physically aware of everything about her as a woman.
Even when she’d lived in Kentucky she had invaded his sleep. His dreams had been filled with forbidden and invigorating sex. Cold showers had become a habit with him. No woman had been able to invade his space at work, but she had been there too, more times than he could count. Building motorcycles and preparing for races had always gotten his total concentration—until he’d met Tara Matthews.
He’d constantly been reminded of the first time they had met. He had arrived at his sister Delaney’s apartment late one night with his four brothers playing cards and no one had a clue where Delany had gone or when she would return. At least no one had felt the need