Unbridled. Tori Carrington

dare invite him up?

      Her palms grew damp against the steering wheel. The classical station her car radio was tuned in to was failing to capture her attention. She drifted into the opposite lane twice since she was more focused on watching Carter in her rearview mirror than on the road in front of her.

      Only an hour ago, she had thought he was gone from her life, that he had no plan to follow up on his request for help. Then he’d appeared out of nowhere, nearly scaring the socks off her.

      Now he was following her on his Harley, looking particularly hot in his snug black T-shirt and sunglasses, his longish dark hair blowing in the wind. Knowing a bit about his military background, he could have been out for a ride or on his way to the front line.

      The thought of him looking after her like this made her hot, and she squeezed her thighs together.

      When was the last time she’d felt this way? Had she ever felt this way? She couldn’t say. What she did know was that none of the suited, professional men she’d briefly dated over the past couple of years had made her mouth go this dry. And her heart beat in an uneven rhythm in her chest at the thought that the man on the motorcycle wanted her.

      Of course, part of her response could be attributed to her tires being slashed. The violent act had opened her eyes to the seriousness of the threat in a way the first note had not.

      Still, she couldn’t think about that now. She seemed utterly incapable of thinking about anything but the man behind her.

      She pulled in front of her apartment building and began to roll down her window. To thank him or invite him up—she wasn’t sure which. Instead, he took the decision out of her hands by offering a brief wave and roaring down the street.

      Interesting…

      Okay, maybe this unpredictability wasn’t as attractive as she’d first thought. She’d never considered he would merely drive off.

      Laney watched the back of his bike. Despite her disappointment, she couldn’t help thinking he looked as good going as he did coming. She reluctantly got out of her car, deciding to ask the doorman to arrange for the Infiniti to be parked in the underground garage. She didn’t have the stomach right now to do it herself.

      A short time later, she’d showered and was in her robe in her penthouse apartment, considering the contents of her refrigerator, when the apartment intercom buzzed.

      “Yes, Roger?” she asked the front doorman.

      There was a pause, making her wonder if something else had happened.

      “Sorry to bother you, Ms. Cartwright, but there’s a Mr. Southard here to see you.”

      Roger’s pause hadn’t been reluctance to share bad news, but grudging acceptance that he’d have to introduce a man who must look incredibly out of place in the upscale lobby.