‘I didn’t factor your part of the bargain into my plan,’ he admitted.
‘And what if I’d refused?’
‘I’d find someone who would come with me.’ Cade glanced behind him to where two pretty girls were still giggling as they walked along the pavement arm in arm having given him the once-over twice.
‘Five minutes, you said?’ Liv confirmed, firming her jaw.
‘Whatever it takes to get you out of pale-blue woolly stuff and into something more appropriate for riding a motorbike into town.’
Pressed up against Cade with her arms around him? ‘I can do speedy.’
‘I’m counting on it.’
Did he have to look so good when he said that—all darkly smouldering and thick black ruffled hair, with a face that looked as if it hadn’t seen a razor in a week?
Yes, Cade looked good to her, but she could imagine some desk-bound general might find him intimidating. He really did need her on board.
‘Well?’ he pressed. ‘You haven’t made a good start on speedy so far.’ He consulted his watch. ‘Three minutes and counting, and then I’m out of here.’
‘Slow down, soldier, or you’ll meet yourself coming back…’
Playing it cool was one thing, but now her decision was made she had to try very hard not to run up the garden path. Wanting Cade was like a madness fizzing inside her. The ache his kiss had started up inside her was something only he could sort out. But could she do what she’d threatened and then cut off her feelings for him after one night in his bed? Could she sleep with him and then stand at his side during the ball pretending to be his girlfriend, knowing she meant nothing to him? Could she convince the army top brass to share Cade’s dream?
Selling the dream she could do, Liv concluded; anything more than that would be hell.
But wasn’t Cade’s dream worth a little hell?
‘The shops close soon,’ he called out as she reached the front door.
‘Three minutes,’ she confirmed, smiling. When Cade smiled back at her it warmed her through.
Cade’s smile kept her going through the hallway, past her mother and stayed with her as she ran up the stairs. It continued to warm her as she hunted for jeans in her bedroom. She found an old pair tucked away in the back of her wardrobe, and a pink furry sweater that made her smile as she remembered fighting with her sister Carly over who should wear it.
Stiletto-heeled boots to complete the outfit? Did biker chicks wear them? She put them on anyway, and struck a pose in the mirror. Playing this brazen role was new to her and perhaps she’d got everything wrong. It couldn’t be helped if she had, Liv concluded, taking one last look around the room before saying goodbye—for ever, she hoped—to Acacia Drive.
Cade was leaning against the bike when she got back. He didn’t seem to notice her transformation from Sandra Dee to biker babe. Perhaps that was just as well, Liv decided, because Cade in command of the Harley looked more aggressive than ever—quite deliciously dangerous, in fact. She inhaled shakily as she took the helmet he was holding out to her. ‘Do I put it on like this?’ Her fingers were trembling.
‘Let me help you,’ he said, bringing her close.
She didn’t breathe while Cade stared into her eyes as he helped her adjust the strap. She was in way too deep here. But wasn’t Cade and some excitement in her life what she’d been hankering for?
The breath left her lungs in a swoosh when he started the engine and roared off. There wasn’t time to think—she just had to hang on for dear life. She held him so tightly she could feel his muscles working beneath the leather jacket.
‘Did you like that?’ Cade asked her when he’d found a parking slot outside the store.
Like it? Should she answer truthfully, or not? Her legs were still shaking as she dismounted the bike, and her body was tingling everywhere after clinging onto Cade.
‘Yes,’ she answered firmly, seeing some of her mother’s cronies giving her scandalised glances. ‘That was the best fun I ever had,’ she announced in a louder, more defiant voice.
‘Then you should get out more,’ Cade observed dryly.
She wanted to batter him over the head with her handbag, but she loved the way his lips curved, even when he was mocking her. ‘Maybe I should,’ she agreed. Lifting off her helmet, she shook out her hair, and stood tall.
He had only just noticed the group of women watching them and he immediately wanted to defend Liv. What was happening to him? Putting his arm loosely, protectively, round her shoulders, he ushered her into the store.
He couldn’t remember when he’d had as much fun as that bike ride. Riding fast with Liv pressed up behind him was magic; she was magic—soft in all the right places, and he’d felt so good when she’d clung to him. And then the way she stood up to those women—everything about Liv put a smile on his face. He opened another door and stood back to let her through. Even with this crazy contract between them, with every moment he spent with her he liked her more and more. What he liked best—there was no surrender in her gaze, not even a hint of it. He liked it a lot. It made him want to suggest the time to make their contract live was now.
They took the elevator up to the second floor and somewhere along the way started racing each other like two over-excited children. He let her win and so she was standing waiting for him at the top of the moving staircase, with her head thrown back, laughing and relaxed. He stared up at her, wondering, as he loped past loaded down shoppers, if he had ever felt so light.
Once inside the designer gowns department he was ushered to a comfy chair, while Liv was led into a dressing room behind a screen. ‘I prefer to pace up and down,’ he told the sales assistant politely. As far as he was concerned this was a scouting mission for a subtle statement gown. The woman standing at his side at the ball must be discreet and possess an air of competence that gave people confidence. Something told him Liv was the woman to do that. Now all she needed was The Dress—something demure enough not to frighten the ladies, but feminine enough to intrigue the men. That last thought brought a roll call of eligible bachelors in uniform flooding into his mind. His leader of the herd instinct roared into full alert mode. No way was he going to lose Liv to a man with a smooth, scar-free face, or to any man, any time. At least, he tempered—not at the ball.
He’d nearly paced a hole in the beige patterned carpet by the time she emerged in the first of the outfits. His heart did a back flip. ‘Too short,’ he said, shaking his head; he hadn’t realised her legs went on for ever.
She tugged on the hem, looking gauche and shy. Pressing his lips down, he looked away, acting as if he disapproved of the revealing outfit, when in fact he was very much impressed.
‘I’ll try again,’ she said, backing away.
‘Okay, you do that.’ She looked so cutely awkward as the assistant ushered her away. He had to relax and stop looking at his watch. They’d made good time on the bike and the store didn’t close for a while. He guessed this might turn into a long session.
He was right.
‘Too tight,’ he said of the next gown, wishing she could wear it in private just for him.
‘Too red.
‘Too old for you.
‘Too black.
‘Too…’ Words failed him. Who ever told her she looked good in frills? They ought to be lined up against a wall and—
‘You don’t like this one either?’
He was out of his chair like a rocket when he realised she was on the point of tears. How was he supposed to know frills were Liv’s thing? ‘If you like it…’ Reaching out, he adjusted the pie crust frill around her neck. His thumb wandered to trace a line down her jaw. He was consoling her, he told himself firmly. ‘I just think you don’t need this level of adornment…’
‘I don’t?’
‘Hey, stop sniffing.’ The assistant, who was clearly used to tears and tantrums, was at his elbow right away with a box of tissues. He plucked one out.
‘I’m fine,’ Liv told him, wavin
g it away. She twirled slowly in front of the mirror, staring critically at her reflection. ‘I think you may be right. This one is very fussy.’
‘I am right,’ he assured her, getting a kick out of sharing a rare look of agreement with her.