Summer Kisses (254 page)

Max and Dick slapped palms with Bruce, a tubby physician who looked more like the Pillsbury Doughboy’s version of Ozzie Osborne than a respected member of the AMA.

“What is it with you doctors and Harleys, Bruno?” Dick asked. “There are probably more of you here than there are at the hospital.”

Bruce shrugged. “Riding’s a hell of a stress-reliever.”

“And you guys are about the only ones who can afford the price of an upscale bike these days,” Dick cracked.

“Looks like you judges do all right,” Bruce said. “When did you trade up for that V-Rod?”

“Last month. You should feel the way she handles—slicker than a swimsuit model’s well-oiled skin.”

Max tuned out the conversation, checking to see if the line at the bar had cleared out enough for him to get his poker card. He didn’t like leaving Annabel alone for long in the middle of this group of mostly horny, middle-aged wannabe players.

Tim Addams, Max’s financial advisor, crossed the room and clapped him on the shoulder. Tim handed over a white envelope with a card inside. “Picked this up for you.”

Damn, he’d forgotten Tim would be here. He wasn’t a wannabe player. He was the Ultimate Player. Max had known him to sample more women in a week than most men had meals. That was a good week, even for Tim, but still.

Now more eager than ever to get back to Annabel, Max stuck the envelope into his back pocket and headed for the door. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll get lucky today.” From this angle, he watched Annabel bend toward the rearview mirror while she pulled a comb through honey-colored curls.

“Looks like you already have.” Tim nodded toward Annabel and the excellent view of her truly gorgeous ass. “Who’s the lady? She looks more like my type than yours.”

Max frowned and considered his friend. He was a good guy to have on hand at the poker table, to make the rounds with on the golf course, or in the clubs on a night out. Tim looked like an overgrown choirboy with the muscular build of Beckham and the personality of a snake charmer. For some reason, that combination appealed to a lot of women who ended up either sleeping with Tim or investing great sums of money with him. Or both.

Max invested great sums of money with him, too, but only because the snake charmer was a financial genius. And normally, Max didn’t care how many women Tim screwed. There were more than enough women out there to go around. But Max balked at the idea of Tim turning his dubious charms Annabel’s way. The guy did have an eye for selecting quality women. Max would give him that. “How can you tell from here?”

“She doesn’t have on Spandex or glitter.”

Max smirked. He knew something Tim didn’t. She’d worn red lace the night before, and if there was a God, she’d have on something equally sexy today. “Maybe she does underneath.”

“I don’t think so.” Tim shook his head, not buying the bluff. “So why’s she with you?”

“I dared her to come.”

Tim laughed and nudged Max with his elbow. “Introduce me and I’ll take her off your hands.”

Max shrugged off the suggestion. “She’s no trouble.”
Not at the moment anyway.
“Maybe later. We’re about ready to head out.” He left Tim to rejoin Annabel, watching as she flipped her gleaming hair off her shoulder with a beguiling head toss. “How’re you doing?”

She flashed a dazzling smile. The sun bounced off the various shades of blonde in her hair, begging him to run his fingers through it. Pretty. And more intriguing still, sexy. He tried to remember if he’d ever seen it unleashed before. Not that he could recall. The effect made her look younger, more approachable. Of course, the recent orgasm could have brought on that look, too.

Annabel cupped her ear and hollered, “What?”

Damn, he’d forgotten her temporary hearing loss. Leaning closer, he repeated the question, getting a heady whiff of lemony shampoo as he did so.

“Brushing out my hair,” she said, loud enough for people across the river to hear.

“Not ‘
what
are you doing’.” He pushed a lock of silky hair behind her ear. “
How?
”

“‘Now’ what?”

“Never mind.” Chuckling, he reached into his pocket to pull out the earplugs again. “Ready for these?”

She nodded as she smoothed her hair back with her hands and tried to slip an elastic band around it.

He took her hand in his, plucked the elastic from her fingers, and placed the earplugs in her palm. “Trade you.”

“Hey, I need that.”

He shook his head. “I like it down.” She couldn’t hear him, but flushed, and he imagined she got the gist. She smiled, nodded, and slipped the earplugs in. He could do with a whole lot more of this agreeable attitude than the contrary approach she usually took.

And this time, she hopped into place behind him like a pro. With a hand signal from Dick, the two-hundred engines revved into life. Annabel’s thighs aligned with Max’s and her arms circled him as they led the herd of riders onto the road.

She felt more relaxed against him than she had at first, but then, so would a goalpost. She also seemed to get the hang of leaning with the bike instead of away from it, and her feet quit stomping on her imaginary brakes. Of course, his jacket might have her fingerprints imprinted on it for life, but he could live with that.

This next section of smooth road probably wouldn’t escalate into the kind of release she’d already experienced, but he’d just as soon she didn’t loosen up too much. A lot of daylight stretched ahead of them. If she managed to stick it out, he wanted to keep her close and slightly jazzed. A tandem ride on a bike provided the perfect opportunity for Annabel to become acquainted with the feel of his body against hers.

For a couple of disappointing minutes back at her house, he’d thought he’d end up leaving her behind. But aside from managing to get herself off and being a little shell-shocked, so far, she’d hung in there.

Her legs tightened around him again as they reached a small suspension bridge. He and Dick had led the group all the way across before he realized the cell phone in his shirt pocket vibrated. With one hand, he pulled it out and checked the number.

Mercer.

He’d have to find a way to ditch Annabel for a bit and contact the snitch at the next stop.

“We’ll be here for a half an hour.” Max enunciated the words carefully after Annabel removed her earplugs. “What would you like for lunch?”

And even though she could now make out some, if not all, of the conversation around her, she appreciated having a good reason to focus on his mouth.

He steered her toward a picnic table on the patio of yet another sketchy dive, the Blue Moon Saloon. She’d never realized there were so many out-of-the-way spots in the midst of Southwest Ohio tailor-made for eating, drinking and getting into who knew how many kinds of trouble. She definitely needed to get out more. Not to these kinds of places, necessarily, but at least to expand her horizons. Or ask Max to expand them for her.

Without his hand to keep her grounded, the phantom vibration of the bike rattled her body like a mini-earthquake. Exhaling a small sigh, Annabel sank onto the solid support of a wooden bench.

“Cae— Cae—” She stopped to clear the pound of road grit from her throat before choking out her request. “Caesar salad with grilled chicken and iced tea.”

Max rolled his eyes. “You don’t want salad. This is the Blue Moon, darlin’. They’re famous for barbecue, barbecue, or barbecue. Those are the choices.” He’d ticked all three of them off on his fingers. “They might have potato salad or coleslaw, but trust me, Caesar salad is not on the menu.”

“Do they have barbecue chicken?”

“Mouth-watering.” His smile matched the description.

“Great, I’ll take mine plain, please.”

“Without sauce?” he asked, clearly aghast. “That’s about as exciting as having sex without a partner.” Shaking his head, he went off to get their meals.

After her amazing experience on the back of his bike, she might have disputed that comment. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep a surprised spurt of laughter from escaping.

Although she hadn’t been with anyone since Carl, her dear but unexciting husband had been polite and methodical in bed, sad to say. Since his death, she’d kept a vibrator hidden on the top shelf of her closet behind a box of old photographs. It seemed like a Barbie toy compared to the adult-sized pulsation created by the machine of steel she’d been riding this morning.
So size does matter.

Max couldn’t really know what had happened to her back there on that bumpy stretch of road, could he? She’d done her best to contain her reaction by squeezing her thighs tightly, pressing her forehead into his back and clenching her hands in front of him—against his rock hard abs, actually. But he did have that reputation for reading women, so maybe he’d noticed the subtle signs.

While she waited for his return, she concentrated on relaxing her sore and tense muscles. It would take more than the half-hour allotted for lunch for her thighs to relax. Even though she was almost a puddle in some areas, other body parts were still clenched tighter than a corset.

A little embarrassed over her earlier
response
, Annabel was grateful that they’d been following a road that had more potholes than pavement for most of the morning. Whatever the road lacked in smoothness, its route alongside the Ohio River more than made up for in scenic beauty.

From her perch on the bench, Annabel noticed that the Blue Moon’s patio overlooked the river’s swelling banks. A large limb bobbed in and out of the water. A flock of geese honked overhead. A canopy of branches blocked the sun with a haze of bright green leaves bursting to life. The idyllic setting couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting to the puzzling white envelopes she’d seen members of the group surreptitiously peeking into before pocketing.

What did they contain? Something as harmless as the location of the next stop or something dangerous like one of the new synthetic drugs she’d heard was spreading through Cincinnati like an epidemic? She’d ask Max about the envelopes at the first opportunity. But if they contained something top-secret or illegal would he tell her the truth?

Keeping an eye on the driftwood’s progress, she became aware of two guys talking on the other side of the plank fence behind her.

“I checked with my dealer yesterday, and he can’t keep up with my demands anymore. Have you had any trouble, Bruno?” a rumbling baritone asked.

“Not since I switched suppliers,” a tenor responded. “Who’ve you been using?”

“Royce out of Tallahassee.”

“Yeah, I heard some untimely press about illegal aliens brought them some unwanted attention from several federal agencies. It slowed down their operation so much that distribution isn’t making it much north of Tennessee.”

“I don’t want trouble with the Feds,” Baritone grumbled. “I don’t need those snoops poking around more than they do already.”

“Who does?” Tenor asked. “Call me later, and I’ll hook you up with my supplier. He might be able to get his hands on what you need.”

“At what price? And how soon?”

“It’ll be expensive, but it beats not being able to meet the demand.”

“I don’t have much choice. I need those drugs. Some of my people are desperate enough to pay any amount.”

Covering her mouth to hold back her gasp, Annabel leaned back to catch a glimpse of the conspirators. She might need to pick them out of a lineup at some point. One was chubby with a long ponytail. The other one was ferret-like, slim and edgy, sporting a gold hoop earring and a skull-and-crossbones do-rag.

As they moved out of earshot, Annabel considered what to do with the information she’d overheard. She’d learned enough at the high school filming
Challenging Destiny
to know that not all drug dealers lurked in back alleys and looked like gang-bangers or street thugs.

Her initial reaction was to go off half-cocked, but she kept herself in check. If she panicked, she’d call attention to herself. Probably a bad choice. She could leave and forget all about her suspicions. Or call the police with an anonymous tip. Probably the choice the old, more boring Annabel would make.

Or she could play it cool and try to discover the drug dealers’ identities before she called her vice-cop neighbor and have him bring in reinforcements. Since she wasn’t in any immediate danger, she liked the last choice the best. This could be the start of a new career. Investigative journalism. True crime documentaries. Breaking news stories.

Hah! If he weren’t careful, she’d give Max a run for his money in areas besides the Community First award.

Just then the leader of the bikers—Goatee Man—and another biker guy dropped into seats across from her and set their platters of ribs on the table. A younger leather-clad guy slid himself and a couple of pulled pork sandwiches into the space to her left.

“Mind if we join you?” Goatee Man asked, somewhat after the fact. “Where’s Max? I didn’t notice him inside.”

“He was on his cell, talking to his nephew. He’ll be along soon,” the one beside Goatee Man said, switching his attention to Annabel. “I wanted him to introduce us, but since he’s not here, I’ll take care of it myself. I’m Tim, and this is Dick, our fearless leader.” He pointed to the third man. “That’s Gabe. We’re all friends of Max’s.”

“Hi, I’m Annabel.” As she shook hands with Tim, he held onto hers a fraction longer than necessary. But when she looked up at him to see if he meant anything by it, she couldn’t resist returning his smile. He looked more clean-cut than the others and was kind of cute in an Opie-Taylor-meets-Metallica sort of way. Gabe, the third guy in the trio, was handsome, quiet, even a little reserved, but just as confident and self-assured as the other two.

Tim studied her openly. “What’s a nice girl like you doing here with a guy like Max?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here with Max?” She’d gradually figured out that Max was a lot less harmful than she’d thought. But after overhearing the drug dealers and noticing the white envelopes sticking out of random pockets, Tim’s comment made her wonder all over again. Of course, if she judged others by the company they kept, these three guys wouldn’t be above reproach—and neither would she. There were always two sides to every story. As a filmmaker, she prided herself on remembering that.