Every Girl's Secret Fantasy Read Free

goddess. If she slept with Pace andthey failed to lift off, that smouldering attention would be replaced with something a whole lot less flattering…like disappointment. Or, worse, pity.
    Shuddering, Phoebe walked faster.
    No way. Not with Pace. She’d be humiliated into the next decade. That was the third and strongest reason she must stay well away.
    Phoebe moved through the massive Brodricks showroom, its vast glass walls encasing a dazzling parade of gleaming vehicles that movie stars and Arab sheikhs might drive. Bentley, Ferrari, Rolls-Royce… She hated to guess how much this place was insured for. How must it feel to be that insanely rich? Like the vast majority of the world, she’d never know.
    Outside a moment later, the early-evening air was brisk, with the crush of autumn leaves littering the pavement. Busy pedestrians swirled all around, and overhead deepening shades of blue had drawn up a blanket, preparing to tuck in for the night.
    Her hand high, she hailed an approaching cab. Along with a fleet of other peak-hour traffic, it sailed by. So did a second and a third cab. Five long minutes later, when she spotted a fourth cruising down Botany Road, she shot out an arm and waved a giant arc. The cab slowed down. Smiling and waving again, she moved forward. She didn’t see the motorbike zipping in to stop ahead of the cab. Didn’t notice its helmeted rider…at least not until he reached out from his perch at the kerb to lay a steely grip on her arm. She scowled. What the hell?
    â€œGet your hands off me,” she growled, wrenching her arm free. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    The first bell to ring was the white T-shirt, visibleunder the rider’s open leather jacket. The second, when the visor flipped up, was that delicious don’t-you-want-me? smile. The voice—a warm summer breeze—came in a fatal third.
    Pace Davis leaned back and revved his bike. “Actually, I wondered if you’d changed your mind about that lift?”
    â€œYou?” Her mouth opened and closed twice before she got another word out. “I didn’t know you rode a bike.”
    He removed the helmet and rubbed the dark, day-long bristles framing his wry smile. “For a few years now.” He hitched forward. “Here…jump on.”
    â€œI—I don’t double on bikes.”
    â€œYou mean don’t or never tried?”
    An unbidden fire ripped through her system, and for one dizzy moment she imagined herself, novice thighs clinging to hot metal, arms gathering living granite, breasts crushed against comforting firm warmth. The mere thought of being that close to definitely-off-limits made her sway a little and lose her breath.
    Cursing the blush rising in her cheeks, she hurried on. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I have a cab waiting.”
    She gestured to…a vacant space.
    Shifting her gaze, she spotted her taxi merging into the traffic with a passenger in the back seat. At this rate she’d never get home. Her attention slid back to Pace and her heartbeat thumped at his focused gaze. She shook her head slowly.
    â€œThis is not a good idea.”
    â€œI’m not kidnapping you. It’s only a lift.”
    Sure. That was why mischief was twinkling like rough diamonds in his eyes.
    â€œOh, come on,” he teased. “Live a little. I guarantee you’ll enjoy the ride. Bet my best wrench on it.”
    Lateral thinking sent her head spinning at the prospect of winning this man’s prize tool.
    Phoebe evaluated her attire…a cream bandage dress cut above the knee, five-inch gladiator sandal heels. How could she consider straddling that steed in this get-up?
    A challenging smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Don’t think, Phoebe. Just do.”
    Her gaze dropped from his entrancing blue eyes to his come-kiss-me lips. The smell of grease mingled with a hard day’s work and a faint tang of