The story was too juicy to resist. That’s what Shayla kept telling herself, anyway. Why else would she have agreed to have dinner after work with the guy she had, only that afternoon, wanted to kill?
Getting through the broadcast with the prospect of dinner with Luke following was tough. She didn’t mess up any of her words, but she came close to spacing out a few times while Anthony was talking. She couldn’t help it—there was a sexy biker waiting in the greenroom for her. He had a story that could save her career (before it had even properly taken off, no less) and possibly one that could save her heart. What if he wasn't the bad guy she’d made him out to be all day? What if he did have a good reason?
She still wasn’t sure what reason that could be, but her hurting heart chose to rationalize it in any way she could. Shayla was a reporter, after all; she had to get to the root of the story.
Knowing that Luke was watching her every move, her every twitch on screen, affected her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. She remembered what it had felt like to have him inside of her, pounding flesh against flesh until she reached oblivion. She remembered his hot breath on her neck, and the way her whole body had lit up for him like a switchboard on a controversial talk show.
And knowing that, she imagined the kind of things he might be thinking about while he watched her. The dirty thoughts going through his head, and the salacious grin he reserved for her image alone. It was making her more than a little hot under the collar. She squeezed her thighs together under the newsdesk and hoped—prayed—that his story checked out. She didn’t think she’d be able to resist getting another dose of Luke’s hot touch tonight, and her ego would never forgive her if she slept with Luke if he was as devious as she’d originally suspected.
The broadcast began to wrap up, and the grin on Shayla's face was genuine. She would try and hide it once she saw Luke, but for now she was supposed to smile—she may as well get all her smiling out while she could. He’d get only her hardest stare until he explained himself.
She had chosen her clothes for their looks, not their comfort. The skirt was tight against her skin, and the blouse was unyielding. Altogether, the outfit allowed little movement. And little room to breathe. And the closer the clock got to eleven, the more Shayla needed the room.
“Thank you for tuning in,” Anthony said finally. “And goodnight, Templeton.”
“We will see you tomorrow,” Shayla chimed in.
They smiled and waited.
“And... we’re out!” announced Amy. “Good work everyone.”
Shayla shot up from the desk, wobbling on her heels from the sudden head rush. Anthony looked up at her quizzically, but Shayla was already making her way toward the door to the green room. Then she realized how eager she looked, and took a detour to the snack table. She grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it almost in one go, the sensation of the cool water flowing down her throat almost like heaven. She took a moment to breathe, then finished the bottle, crinkling it in her hand.
“Woah there, Rambo.” Meg sidled up beside her. “Somebody a little thirsty tonight?”
Shayla let out a cynical laugh. “You have no idea.”
“I think I have an idea.” Luke’s dulcet tone crept into her ear, and Shayla spun around to face him. He looked like the cat that got the cream, his sensual lips tugged up into a half smile as his eyes dragged over her curves.
Again, her core throbbed. What was with her today? Surely it wasn’t normal for her body to go crazy just because of one guy?
“Are you ready?” Shayla asked, ignoring Luke’s comment.
His emerald eyes lit up, and he took a step toward her. Meg stood at the sidelines, eyes wide, watching the exchange. Probably wishing she was in Shayla’s shoes.
“I was born ready, sweetheart.”
Shayla narrowed her eyes at him. “I told you not to call me that.”
He shrugged. “Stop me, then.”
Shayla let out an angry sigh and stalked past him, calling behind her, “I can’t ride your bike in this skirt so we have to take my car.”
He easily kept pace beside her, hands thrust in his jean pockets. Shayla had to stop her eyes from traveling down his body the way he had gazed at hers. God, he was a fine specimen. It was a shame she hadn’t gotten to see him naked. Though, with any luck, she soon would.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked, pushing through the door to the hallway.
“I take it you don’t want to go to the place we went last time?”
Shayla glanced at him. “Which one?” Then she snorted. “Actually, I guess it doesn’t matter. The answer is no either way.”
They emerged into the reception area of the station, and Shayla sent the sleepy-looking Sharon a tight lipped smile. Luke, notably, did not. He kept his eyes on Shayla or on the path in front of him. It was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“Then I guess it’s your choice this time.” Luke held the door open for her, and when she walked past him she got a whiff of leather and something spicy and masculine. She had to suppress the urge to lean into his warmth and sniff him.
The cold night air blasted her face, providing a well needed damper to her internal fire. “Let’s just go to Springfield.”
“As you wish.”
Shayla walked toward her car, trying not to think about the man walking behind her. She unlocked it and they both slid in. Luke seemed to fill up the whole vehicle. He had a presence that Shayla doubted anyone was ever able to ignore.
“Buckle up,” Shayla reminded, trying to ease the tension she felt.
Luke smiled at her but didn’t comment. He simply reached back and pulled the belt over his lap, and she heard it click into place.
Shayla turned her key in the ignition, and they were off.
The silence in the car was stifling. Shayla didn’t particularly want to speak to Luke until he had explained himself, and Luke didn’t seem to feel the need to shoot into an explanation. He sat there and watched the world through the windshield while Shayla turned left and right down the darkened streets. Luckily, Springfield was close.
Shayla had gone to Springfield a lot during high school. It had been the closest diner to her school, and though the coffee was crap it was always filled with high school students during the week. Still was. Since it was late at night, the dingy diner was relatively unoccupied. The owner kept it open until one a.m. every evening, and later on the weekends. Shayla wasn’t sure why, since it didn’t seem busy enough to warrant it, but it suited her needs, anyway.
After she parked, the pair exited the vehicle and strolled up to the glass front door. Luke wrenched it open and held it for Shayla to walk through. A clanging bell on the door announced their entrance. That was a new addition.
There were three other diners, seated throughout the dining room. An old man and his wife were eating soup in the far corner, and a young woman was sitting in front of a steaming cup of black coffee, eyeing herself in her phone’s front camera. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, and by the looks of things she was getting ready for a night out.
A man in a black t-shirt embossed with the diner’s logo came out of nowhere and greeted her and Luke. “Hello! Welcome. Booth or table?”
“Booth, please,” Shayla said.
The man nodded, gesturing for them to follow him as he walked along the aisles of booths. He was the owner, if Shayla remembered correctly. A man of about sixty, Shayla had spent much of her time here as a youth trying to figure out how he stayed so peppy when confronted with hordes of hungry, rude teenagers. Apparently he was still just as peppy.
He placed them in a booth that was closest to the old couple and their soup. After handing them menus, he told them he’d be back for their drink orders in a moment, and spirited off.
“Dan’s an interesting guy,” commented Luke.
“Huh?” Shayla’s eyes flicked from her menu to Luke. “You know his name?”
Luke chuckled. “Of course I do. I know most of the small business owners around town.”
Shayla cocked her head to the side. “Why’s that? Eat out a lot.”
Luke’s eyes glimmered, probably at Shayla’s unintentional innuendo, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Dan got into trouble a few years ago, just when I was starting out my club. He’d borrowed some money from the Reapers because of the downturn in the economy. But when things didn’t come back up right away, he found himself unable to pay them back.”
Shayla gasped. “Did they hurt him?”
At that moment, Dan materialized again next to them. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Coffee please,” said Luke, transitioning easily from talking about Dan to talking to him.
Dan’s weathered face swiveled to Shayla. “Uh, me too,” she replied.
“Right away.” He sped off toward the bar.
Shayla immediately whipped her face back to Luke, pressing him with her eyes to continue his story.
“They didn’t hurt him. I stepped in, told them that Dan makes his business on his feet. If they messed with his ability to work, he’d never make the money back.”
“And they listened to you?”
Luke shook his head. “Not at first.”
Dan rolled back around and plonked two ceramic mugs on the table, filling them with steaming black coffee from the pot in his hand. He smiled and placed down a bowl of cream and sugar. “Do you need a few more minutes with the menus?”
“I’ll get a BLT with fries, please,” Shayla answered. She’d been getting the same thing here for years.
“I’ll have the same,” said Luke.
Dan retreated, and once more Shayla turned to Luke. “What did you have to do to get them to leave him alone?”
“They didn’t leave him alone,” Luke corrected. “Dan probably still pays them money. But they didn’t hurt him because I told them I’d forgive a transgression one of their members had made on my turf.”
Shayla stared at Luke in awe, seeing him through a new set of eyes. He wasn’t just a big and tough biker; he was also a leader. And it sounded like a fair one, at that. She couldn’t have been more attracted to him in that moment if she tried.
“Why is Dan acting so normal, then?” Shayla asked. “If someone did that for me, it would be all free food all the time.”
His eyes caught hers and he smiled. “He doesn’t know it was me who did it. I don’t know what they told him about it, but for all he knows I’m just a guy who comes in here and chats with him sometimes.”
Shayla blinked. “He doesn’t know? Why didn’t you just tell him?”
He shrugged. “I don’t feel the need to take credit for it. What happened happened.”
“So what do you talk about then?”
Luke began dumping cream into his coffee, as if suddenly remembering it was there. He pulled the cup over to himself and stirred it around for good measure. “All sorts of things. The price of food. His insomnia. His kids.” He tapped the spoon on the side of the cup and set it down. “Just the normal stuff.”
“He’s got insomnia?”
“That’s what I was going to tell you before you started up the twenty questions.” Luke gave her a cheeky grin. “He keeps the place open because he gets lonely sitting up in his house all by himself. He loves having people around, especially when he can’t sleep.”
Shayla paused to think. She couldn’t believe that nobody from her school knew any of this about him, or had ever cared to find out. Luke was way more in touch with the community than her. She might not have been a full-fledged reporter, but that was still pretty sad.
But then Shayla remembered the task at hand.
“Tell me this story you claim will change everything,” she said, leaning back against the vinyl seat.
Luke nodded, taking a sip of his cup. “A few years ago, the clubs were essentially at war with each other. The best way to fix it seemed to be a union of the two, which is when I got married.” He looked down and fiddled with his ring, as if it was uncomfortable. “Raven is the daughter of the Reapers leader, Herman. It seemed like an easy way to end the tension.”
“And did it?” Shayla was at the edge of her seat. Who knew biker gangs could be so political?
“I thought it did.” He frowned at the ring. “But since that Holly girl bought drugs in my territory from a Reaper, they must be starting to sell again.” He sighed and leaned back, his face tired and expression heavy. “Which means it won’t be long until I’ll have to make a show of force. Then it could erupt back into chaos again.”
“And the marriage,” Shayla pressed. “It was...happy?”
Luke chuckled. “No, it wasn’t. I know what you’re asking, and no, we didn’t love each other. We didn’t even like each other. We decided to stay separate after the wedding, and that was fine for a while. Lately, though, Raven’s been trying to wiggle her way back in bed.”
Shayla felt a surge of jealousy and rage. How dare his wife try to sleep with him!
“And you haven’t let her, right?”
Luke leaned across the table and grabbed Shayla’s hand in his. His hands were warm and rough, and completely covered her own. “No. I want nothing to do with her.” He sighed. “I’m trying to get a divorce, but it’s an uphill battle.”
Shayla nodded. “I understand.”
In her chest, her heart raced with glee and relief. It was a sham marriage. Luke was essentially single. Luke would be single soon. It might not be the most ideal situation, still, but damn she would take it.
“So you’ll let me cover all this on the news?”
Luke shook his head sadly. “Not all of it. The marriage needs to stay between Raven and I until I can figure out how to separate us. But I’ll give you an exposé on what it’s like to be in a biker club.”
Shayla’s eyebrows shot up. “And what does that entail?”
Dan came around the corner holding two plates. He walked up to the table and slid them down onto it. “Enjoy!”
Shayla eyed the sandwiches as he walked off, her mouth watering. They looked absolutely delicious. Piled high with bacon, and with a generous side of fries, it would be enough to feed her for a whole day. She looked over at Luke, who was already devouring his.
“What?” he asked. “I’m hungry.”
Shayla laughed, probably the first laugh she’d had that day. She shook her head with a bemused grin and raised up her own sandwich and took a bite. Pure, bacon-y, tomato-y perfection.
“So, this exposé,” she said. “Explain.”
Luke plonked the remaining half of his sandwich down on the table. “You can follow me around for a week. Interview whoever you want, film whatever you want, spin it whatever way you want to.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s dangerous for you, don’t you think?” Taking a sip of her coffee, she added, “I could demonize you and have the whole town banging on your door with pitchforks.”
He grinned wryly. “But you won’t. I trust you.”
Hearing him say those words was like a punch to the gut. He trusted her. She couldn’t find the time to trust that he had a good explanation for his wedding ring, but he trusted her. God, how she regretted that now. If nothing else, she could have stayed at his house a bit longer and had some more earth-shattering sex.