Thomas texted her as the dinner hour grew near. “You didn’t say no to dinner,” he wrote. “Does that mean we’re on?”

“Whatever,” she answered back, refusing to give him a straight answer.

“It’s beautiful out, not a cloud in sight. I was thinking of taking my bike,” he texted.

“You want to bike to Carmine’s?” she texted back.

“Not the pedal kind, silly,” he replied. “I’m talking motorcycle.”

The notion of being on the back of a motorcycle with him made her shiver. A sweet surge flushed her, from head to toe. Once again, by the mere power of his suggestion, he made her feel something that no one else had ever made her feel. Am I being a total fool? she wondered. I shouldn’t even give him the time of day, let alone a dinner date.

“So? Are you hungry now, ready for me to pick you up? And, more importantly, are you good on the back of a Harley?” he pressed.

“Hmm. Well, the bike does curtail the attire a little,” she replied.

“We can take the truck if you’d rather,” he responded, but there was disappointment in his voice.

“No, no,” she replied. “I keep a pair of jeans here at work, so I can change. I get off at six. Can you meet me out front?”

“Absolutely. I’ll make the reservations.”

“Do we really need them?” she quickly texted.

“I do. I’m all about control, as you know,” he replied, with a winky-face emoji. “I want to make sure I get the full experience of dining with you at Carmine’s.”

After she texted him goodbye, she couldn’t help but rush to ladies’ room for a quick change. She worked for a high-end firm, so the bathrooms had all the amenities: showers, towels, razors, and hair appliances. It didn’t take her long to switch her skirt for jeans. She lost the blazer but kept the pumps, then mussed her corporate hairstyle a bit and touched up her makeup, giving herself a bit of a cat-eye with her eyeliner, more appropriate for dinner. Last of all, she brushed her teeth and applied a fresh coat of red lipstick. Good to go, she headed down to the entrance of the building to greet Thomas.

She pushed through the revolving door and spotted him immediately, even through the blur of spinning glass. He was parked right out front, beside the curb, his long legs balancing his bike. He looked like a rebel, and the look suited him. He wasn’t a cowboy, but atop that steel horse he sure resembled one Bon Jovi would gladly croon about.

As she approached, she realized that the difference in elevation between the sidewalk and the street gave them equal height. She found it hard to look him in the eye, but he didn’t seem to have any problem with it.

He reached his powerful arm around her. Before, that would have led to a kiss, but they were no longer in that place. In fact, Cheri wasn’t sure if she could go through with the evening at all, since he stirred such a rich mess of emotion within her.

Thomas had the saddest look in his eyes as he softly said, “I really do wanna apologize.”

Cheri turned away. The moment was just too intense, and she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

He maneuvered her so she was standing in front of him, and then he wisely changed the subject. “That ponytail looks absolutely awesome, but I’m going to do something just for the ride,” he said.

Cheri felt some gentle tugging as his fingers moved swiftly down the length of her hair, quickly twisting the tresses into a braid. His attention sent tingles throughout her, and her breath swelled in her chest.

The helmet he slipped onto her head fit her perfectly. She didn’t know a thing about bikes or gears, but intuitively, she realized the headgear had to be made for women, and that realization sent a green wire of jealousy twisting into her heart. She knew it would be stupid and naïve for her to think she was the first or only woman Thomas Graham had ever known, especially after that suspicious mascara. Someone had gotten past the walls he had so carefully put in place, so much so that he’d bought her a helmet, and now that helmet that belonged to someone else was perched on her head. She wanted to take it off, but she knew she was being too sensitive.

She watched as he swung his long leg over the bike to straddle it, and that helped to kill her pain; he was good medicine. She braced herself against his magnificent back and climbed on behind him, but she sat very primly on the bike. He masterfully reached behind her knees and pulled her closer to him, as tightly as he could.

Cheri had to rest her forehead on the center of his back as she absorbed the thrill that washed over her. Every move he made sent her over the edge. Theirs was a powerful magnetism that not even hurt and anger could allow her to deny. Everything he did had the potential to turn her on.

Thomas was pure power as he pulled away from the curb of her office into traffic, as powerful as the roaring engine of his bike. He wove through the city blocks, toward Carmine’s, and Cheri had to admit to herself that she enjoyed him being in charge. They had to stop a few times on the way, at stop signs and traffic lights, and in those moments of stillness, clinging to him as they both straddled his machine, she began to think the ride itself might even be better than the dinner they were about to embark on. She was softening toward him, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that after the hurt he had caused her.

They arrived at Carmine’s rather quickly, and she pulled off the borrowed helmet. She could have easily removed the braid herself, but she waited to see if he would. Once again, his fingers toying with her hair put her on a nod. “That’s gotta be the most relaxing thing ever,” she thought out loud, her eyes widening as she forgot herself.

“What’s that?” he asked softly.

“You messing with my hair,” she whispered.

“I find it relaxing, too,” he said. “Now, shall we try this again?”

Cheri snapped out of it and stiffened, recalling all the things that had upset her before.

Ignoring her silence and the disgusted look on her face, he motioned them forward and took her hand as they entered the restaurant.

The fact that she had stormed out of Carmine’s the last time they were there wasn’t lost on her, and it wasn’t a foregone conclusion that she would make it through this meal either, especially when she saw how he interacted with the hostess.

“Two,” Thomas said, “for Graham.”

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Thomas Graham,” the girl said with a sappy smile, batting her eyelashes in a most exaggerated fashion, the lashes as long and plush as bat wings.

Jealousy rifled through Cheri. The fact that the woman knew him by name bothered her. She felt insecure, and that made her even angrier.

The flirty hostess seated them at a very lovely booth. “If I can do anything for you, just let me know,” she said before she sashayed away.

Thomas seemed to ignore her and immediately picked up the wine list. “Do you mind if I make a selection?”

Cheri wasn’t much of a connoisseur when it came to wine. “It’s all yours.”

“How about a California red?”

“Sounds good to me, but what about your bike?” she asked, arching a brow at him.

“Don’t worry about drinking and driving,” he said. “If worse comes to worst, we can walk the bike back. It promises to be a beautiful night.”

For a man so standoffish, Thomas was also very romantic. Her mind flew back to the two of them furiously chasing their passion in the rain, an experience she would never, ever forget, and one that still sent a shiver through her.

He touched her hand when he noticed the tremble and quiver in her chin. “I really hurt you, huh?” he said. “If you think this is a bad idea…”

“I had a great time with you during the hurricane, Thomas. I admit it was weird the way we met, but I dug you right off the bat. That first kiss…” She had to close her eyes just thinking about it.

The wine arrived and sidetracked her speech. The wine steward was a woman as well, and she offered him a secret smile along with the chilled bottle. Cheri was so envious, and her mind instantly swarmed with all sorts of images of the two of them together, a couple that involved the hostess as well.

“How about some of that calamari?” he asked the steward.

“I’ll tell your waiter,” she said, then smiled again before she walked away, swaying her hips from side to side shamelessly.

Thomas turned and focused on Cheri, who was still busy taking inventory of all the women who insisted on flirting with him, even while he was obviously on a date with her. When she put all the pieces together—the mascara owner, the helmet wearer, the hostess, and the wine girl—it was really quite a harem. “Seems like you get plenty of attention around here,” she said, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

He scrunched up his face. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m talking about. I’m sure you have no shortage of women in your life, Thomas. You don’t need me.”

“I see,” he said, challenge dripping from his deep voice. “I suppose you think I’m the kind of man who’s incapable of finding satisfaction in being with one woman.”

“It’s not my place to judge. I’m just saying…”

“Saying what? That I’m a waste of time?” he asked with a smirk.

Exactly, she thought, irked that he didn’t even seem to be put off by it.

“What if I work on making it worth your while, proving you wrong?” he suggested.

“It’d still be a game,” she said softly. She tried to sound firm and resolute, but her heart was beginning to warm and melt. Though she realized her anger could return at any moment, it was taking a temporary vacation, and she almost found herself helplessly lost in his hazel gaze again.

“Did you expect it to go full tilt after our weekend?”

“It’s not even that,” she said, feeling much lighter than she had when she walked into Carmine’s. “We had great sex, Thomas, but I’m a grownup. At the risk of sounding cliché, that wasn’t my first rodeo, cowboy, not my first lost weekend.”

Thomas’s eyebrows rose at that.

“Still, you could’ve wrapped it all up with a big bow, a little nicer. Why’d you have to be so…abrupt?” she inquired.

“I can’t and don’t want to defend what I did, Cheri. I believe in getting right to the point, so…”

“So get to the point, then.”

He sighed. “Okay. The point is, I took the wrong approach with you.”

“So you regret what you did?”

“I do, at least the harsh goodbye part,” he said, nodding. “I get that you might say, ‘No fucking way,’ but I’m hoping there’s some way you can find it in your heart to overlook the jerk move I made, because I’d really like to see you again.”

“Do you know I got busted for contempt of court?” she asked, though it sounded like more of a confession than a question.

“No shit?” His eyebrows rose in shock.

“I’m surprised my lawyer didn’t tell you.”

“No, your lawyer was all business. He did say you were up Shit Creek without a paddle, but he didn’t tell me that part,” replied Thomas.

“I spent a couple hours in a holding cell,” she said, hating that her cheeks were burning. “They cuffed me and everything.”

“Cuffed you, huh?” he asked, a naughty lilt in his voice. “Bet you were a pretty little jailbird,” he mused. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny, and I’m sure it was horrible for you, but at least now the two of us have something in common.”

“Maybe it was a little funny,” she said with a smirk, holding her thumb and index finger together in a pinch to indicate just how little. “I thought I was going to have to post bail and the whole nine yards, but the judge gave me an ROR.”

“A what?”

“Released me on my own recognizance.”

“Oh, well, that’s lucky. What did you do to get in the ol’ slammer?” He winked as he tried to tease her.

“I was trying to text you. Warn you that my lawyer might be getting in touch.” She shook her head. “The judge came in and decided to make an example of it. I tried defending that I was turning my phone off. It didn’t go over so well.”

“It sounds like you had a pretty shitty day,” he said.

“A shitty week actually,” she fired back at him, her last ammunition in the arsenal of guilting him for being way too straightforward. He had already apologized, and she finally felt like she could forgive him and move on.

Just as they were starting to get along, they were interrupted by a busboy who set a basket of bread in front of them and filled their water glasses from a crystal pitcher. “Your waiter will be right over to take your order,” he said with a smile, then walked to the next table.

“Bread and water,” Cheri said with a laugh. “I guess they know we were prisoners after all.”

“Funny girl,” Thomas said, clinking his water glass against hers.

As promised, the waiter soon arrived and riffed off the specials, officially changing the subject.

The wine began to warm Cheri, sending happy tingles through her as the appetizers arrived. She hoped Thomas was minding his limits, because she looked forward to riding with him on his motorcycle again, rather than helping him push it in an inebriated stupor.

Thomas picked up a piece of calamari and fed it to her. “Something so sensual about this, right?” he said with a smoky look in his eye.

“Mmm,” she muttered, enjoying the crispy, salty deliciousness. Before he fed her another bite, though, a question popped into her head. “What’s sensual?”

“Feeding you,” he said, lazy with passion. “It sorta brings out the alpha male in me.”

Cheri gasped, feigning offense, when she wanted nothing more than for his talented fingers to indulge her once again.

They ate and laughed, laughed and ate, and he fed her bite after bite, till they had made a sizable dent in the appetizer and the warm, buttery bread.

“I guess I was hungrier than I thought,” she admitted, though she realized it was just her nerves causing her to commit gluttony.

“Aw,” he said. “Well, your belly’s getting full now, right?”

“Yes,” she said, grinning and patting her middle. “I love the food here.”

“Well, good. Personally, I’m loving the company,” he said, then gave her a wink. He picked up the bottle, but she put her hand over her glass to stop him. “You good?” he asked, nodding toward her empty goblet.

“Yes, I’ve had plenty,” she said.

Thomas sat back, and they regarded one another. Cheri was weakened under the power of that stare; all she had to do was look at him, and warmth stirred in her belly. He was such a big, handsome guy, a mountain of a man erupting from the booth. The cut of his broad shoulders and his rock-hard pecs were not hidden well beneath his chambray shirt.

He seemed to know she was softening, because he bravely stroked her hand, sending little thrills racing through her bloodstream. Their physical attraction was so strong, and the contact of his hand against hers caused a slow, erotic intoxication to wash over them both.

The stress of the lawsuit was behind her, Thomas had apologized, the food was delicious, the motorcycle ride was as hot as it was breezy, and the California red had relaxed her. Now would be a good time, she thought, to enjoy more of that raw, passionate, meaningless sex, and she could think of no person in the world who was more suited for that than Thomas Graham, her hero in the gaudy boots.

“So is the court thing officially over? Any loose ends to tie up, or all you all done?” he asked huskily.

“I think it’s all done,” she responded lazily. “There is one problem, however.”

Thomas straightened up, and his eyes were suddenly clear and intense. “What is it?”

“I just… I don’t think I can stay for the rest of dinner after all,” she said.

He looked genuinely disappointed. “Oh. Well, I understand,” he said softly. “Really.”

“I don’t think you do,” she said, suddenly taking total charge. “I think we should have them box up our orders for carryout, because I want to take you home right now.”

“Oh,” he smiled suddenly. “Shall we throw in some dessert while we’re at it? Your place or mine?”

“Mine,” she whispered. “I want you in my bed this time.”

“Well, Cheri, if it’s any consolation, I’ve imagined myself there a million times already.”