“It’s real cool.” He shrugged his leather off and laid it on the couch. He then poked the gun into the small of his back, held there by his waistband. “You’ve got yourself a nice pad for the week.”
“Yes, I’m pleased.” She paused. “Thank you again for the ride.”
“No worries, like I said, I was heading this way.”
Silence stretched between them. He didn’t seem in any kind of rush to leave.
Was she supposed to offer him a drink? Whisky? Coffee? Breakfast perhaps?
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, the dust of the road suddenly thick on her skin. “Help yourself to a drink, sandwich, whatever. I paid the extra to have the kitchen stocked.”
“Thanks.” He rubbed his palms together. “Shower sounds good though.”
Leah’s stomach clenched. He wanted to shower, here? Not with her surely. He was presumptive and bold, but not that brazen when it came to getting naked … was he?
“It’s upstairs.” He appeared mildly amused by her.
Were her thoughts so transparent?
“The shower, that is.”
“Ah, yes, thanks.” She grabbed her bag. “I’ll just … go then…” She whizzed past him to the stairs. Took them fast and turned into the first bathroom she saw.
Early morning glowed amber through the window. She shut and locked the door, then flicked the shower on. It was a large modern walk-in cubicle with silvery shell-shaped tiles.
Quickly, she stripped and stepped in, relishing the cool as it flowed over her face and through her hair, soaking to her scalp. She blew out and closed her eyes.
Instantly, an image of Carter appeared in her mind. Tall, handsome, his attention solely on her as it seemed so often to be. His eyes piercing, peering deep into her soul, as though he could somehow see the strands of her desires, the inappropriate thoughts she was having about him, and was weaving them together to form a picture of her.
He was a man so unsuitable he might as well be from another planet.
Damn shame that.
She reached for a creamy almond shower gel and soaped up.
It would be for the best if Carter had left when she emerged from the shower. She’d thanked him for the ride and now she was at her destination, there was no need for him to linger.
And it would remove temptation—temptation to dip her toes into a seductive lake of dark deeds with a man with an even darker lifestyle.
She rinsed off, dried with a blue and white striped towel, then pulled on soft rose-pink joggers and a gray t-shirt. She’d make herself a warm drink then get a few hours’ sleep to make up for her night on a Harley.
When she went downstairs, into the kitchen, the thin white voile on the windowed wall fluttered. A sliding door to the left had been opened and was still open.
The ocean was louder now but still a gentle melody.
She walked through the door and onto the decked area that led to the narrow row of dunes and then the beach.
In the distance, a yacht moved north to south, its white sail billowing. An early rising gull flew overhead. And in the swell of the waves, a man was swimming.
She gripped the salty rail around the deck and stared out.
A pile of clothes, leathers, sat bunched on the sand along with a pair of boots, kicked apart as though taken off in a rush. A blue and white-stripped towel had been dropped next to them.
Her heart stuttered. Carter hadn’t left. He was taking his own version of a shower—a dip in the Pacific.
He was clearly a strong swimmer and as at one in the water as he was astride his bike. The water glowed around him, creating an idyllic vision, and then he came in on a wave and placed his feet on the ground.
His thick shoulders rose upward then his chest, the dawn light embracing him in gold. He strode through the waves, pushing his hair back from his brow and holding his face up to the new day.