The office was impersonal, but Bo couldn't say the same about the man sitting in front of her. She looked into Imari Newsome's eyes and her heartbeat betrayed her. Its cadence was slow, almost painful, then fast enough to make her sweat. She swiped her lip with her tongue, a habit she couldn't seem to kick. Caught in the middle of that act, she hoped Imari didn't think she was coming on to him.

She shifted and sat forward in the visitor's chair. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

His irises were an interesting shade—a smoky caramel-and-chocolate combination—-that didn't betray his thoughts when he said, "The numbers you presented look good, so does your credit, but I'd like to see your operations before giving any kind of approval. It would give me a better feel for how best we can fulfill your needs."

The words sounded improper but maybe her dirty mind was at work. She tried swallowing the smile longing to break free but wasn't successful.

Imari cocked his brow and his full lips quirked at one corner revealing a dimple. "Did I say something funny?"

She shook her head, thinking he was a tight-ass. A devilishly attractive tight-ass though. His navy suit fit his broad shoulders snugly and contrasted well with his honey-gold skin. His fleshy nose and plump lips would have been too much on anybody else but on this man …

Remember why you're here.

The thought sobered her fast. With Daddy unwell, Bo didn't have much wiggle room to put the business back on track. She'd finally given up her job at the ad agency to dedicate her time to the gardening and landscaping business her father started twenty years ago. She loved Daddy, and he needed her, so it wasn't a hard decision to make.

The man sitting across the desk was her lifeline to making that happen. She didn't understand why he'd want to see their place of business. The suggestion sounded a bit unorthodox, but he had the power to say yea or nay to this necessary cash injection, so she swallowed her resentful thoughts and pasted a smile on her face.

"When d'you want to make that happen?" she asked.

"It can be as early as day after tomorrow if you like."

His response surprised her. "As fast as that?"

"Your application implied that you needed this loan in a hurry. It's our policy to serve customers as efficiently as we can."

Nodding, she smoothed her pencil-thin skirt. "Sounds good, thanks for your time."

Boraine, or Bo to her friends, got to her feet and held out her hand over the desk.

Imari stood, and the warmth of his hand plus the slight rasp of his palm against hers was startling. She wanted to snatch her hand away, but maintained her composure and kept her smile in place.

"I'll be in touch," he said. "Here's my card."

She stuck it inside her purse and walked out of his office, praying that since she provided everything the bank required, they'd get the loan. Otherwise, McNaughton’s Gardening & Landscaping Center—the business her father had spent so much time building—would be in financial jeopardy.

Bo didn't have green thumbs. Her specialty was administration. Darius, her brother, had a gift for making things grow but didn't care about the business end of their operations. Over the six months since their father's stroke, the finances took a nosedive.

They all knew Darius loved being outside and feeling the sun on his back and mulch between his fingers. Sitting at a desk ensuring the financial end of the business was under control made him miserable, and he didn't care who knew it.

Daddy could no longer put in the long, demanding hours, which meant the desk duties were neglected. The tall, vigorous man Bo grew up with was now a frail replica of himself. But, he was independence personified and insisted things were good until she pressed him about why their income had dropped drastically in the months since he'd been ill. She had a nasty shock the first time she sat behind his desk to assess the operations at Darius's request.

As she walked out of the building into the sunshine, Bo squared her shoulders, thinking they'd probably get the loan. She completed the application a week ago, did the preliminaries, and was grateful for the call to come in for an interview. Although they went through the bank, the loan would be processed via the small business association, which meant lower lending rates and more time to repay.

In the parking lot, she slid into Darius's souped-up red Camaro. She enjoyed the fifteen-minute drive back to Coconut Grove despite everything on her mind. With the retractable roof down, she enjoyed the sun on her skin and the wind in her hair. It was a great day for a ride, but she doubted she'd have looked the part of a business owner if she turned up at the bank riding a motorcycle and wearing her club vest and patch.

With any luck, this was the final leg of the loan process and she could go back to finding ways to improve the day-to-day operations of the office. Then there was also the club's business weighing on her mind.

She'd been voted in as treasurer of the Lady Guardians three weeks ago because the elected officer gave up her role as she was moving out of Florida. There were a couple of things Bo discovered since then that didn't sit well with her and needed to be discussed at their committee meeting this evening.

At home, she parked Darius's car in the driveway and dropped the key on the center table in their living room. Their father had made a great investment when he bought the single-story family house. Darius and Bo each had their own entrance on opposite sides of the building, while their father's cottage was accessible by a covered walkway. He'd kept the one bedroom as his personal domain, and moved there when Bo's mother died. The arrangement gave each of them a level of privacy and their own space.

From the smell of things, Daddy was in the kitchen making chicken stir-fry. She got on tiptoes, kissed his cheek, and grabbed a sliver of sweet pepper from a tray. "Daddy, are you sure you're okay to do this?"

Over his shoulder, he said, "I had a stroke. I'm slower, not paralyzed. How did the meeting go?"

Chuckling, she folded her arms and leaned against the counter. "You could say hello, you know."

He laughed and turned back to the stove. "Fine, hello Boraine. How was the meeting?"

"I think we'll be okay," she said. "They wanna have a look at things and then I figure we'll get the approval."

His silvery head dipped once. "I sure hope so."

She patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll get the money we need. Have faith."

Fifteen minutes later, she changed into a tee-shirt, skinny jeans, and heeled booties. In front of the mirror, she slipped into her grey denim cut-off vest and half turned to look at the Lady Guardians patch at the back. She'd been part of the Coconut Grove chapter of The Grove Lady Guardians for three years.

The club had been up and running fairly smoothly for four years and Bo was proud to be a member. They had received their charter from the National Lady Guardians Motorcycle Club, headed by Eva 'Justice' Wyatt. Today's gathering was in preparation for the club's monthly meeting next week.

"I'll be out for a while," Bo said as she walked through the living room, carrying her helmet.

"Catch you later," her father said from his seat at the dining table. He tired easily these days, which made her worry about him. When she kissed his forehead, he said, "Be careful."

She opened the garage door, pulled on her gloves, and walked the bike onto the driveway. As the door closed, she put on her headgear and got ready to ride. The pink Suzuki Hayabusa delighted Bo every time she looked at it. The paint job featured pink hearts layered in different shades.

Once she switched on the ignition and started the bike, the engine purred. After giving Passion a moment to warm up, Bo was off. There was nothing quite like the freedom the motorcycle gave her. Pink Passion, named for her favorite drink, allowed Bo to take off without the fuss of navigating through and sitting in stalled traffic. Their neighborhood wasn't congested, which made riding safe.

Five minutes away from the clubhouse, as she waited to turn, Bo spotted a familiar face. Two cars away, Imari Newsome studied her from behind the wheel of a Tesla. The metallic blue car suited his personality somehow; Imari Newsome struck her as cool, deep, and mysterious.

She expected him to drive by without acknowledging her, but he tapped his horn and indicated that she should go ahead and turn. She raised one hand in salute.

Imari's eyes assessed her, but his expression didn't change. She wondered if seeing her riding a bike and wearing colors would affect the loan approval. From experience, she knew people—business people in particular—could be narrow-minded.

As she parked Passion and got off outside the clubhouse, Bo put Imari out of her mind. He didn't look like the type to rush to judgment. The only reason she cared what he thought was that his impression of her might affect his decision, and by extension, their family business.

—

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