Page 73 of American Hellhound
“Didn’t say that.”
“It was supposed to be manis and pedis, and my mom said I had to go – she would justlovefor me to be friends with those bitches. And since I’m grounded, because of the car, I had to go along with it, and…” She deflated, shoulders slumping, arms flapping down to her sides. “I’m an idiot,” she groaned.
A smile softened Ghost’s mouth. “Well, you do tend to think the best of me, so…”
“Watch it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Something fluttering and light unfurled behind her breastbone. But she shouldn’t have enjoyed the feeling. No. She had to stop. Couldn’t let it distract her.
“Did you tell her I could get them stuff for cheap?” she asked, afraid of the answer.
“No, that would be Roman.” He frowned. “I didn’t know any of this was happening ‘til ten minutes ago.”
“Not a nice feeling, is it?”
“No,” he said, emphatically. And then some barrier seemed to crumble. He ducked his head, and rubbed the back of his neck, and swore softly to himself. “Fucking Roman.”
“I take it that’s Malibu Beach House Ken doll out there?”
He barked a startled laugh. “Yeah, that’s him.” When he lifted his head, his expression was serious. “Mags, the rest of the guys in this club aredangerous. Do you understand me?” He took a step closer. “They’re not bad boys, or whatever. They’rebad. I know today wasn’t your fault, but I want you to promise me you’ll stay away from them.”
He stepped into a beam of sunlight that fell through the poorly-boarded windows, and his eyes sparkled, electric and frightened. He wasn’t kidding.
Maggie found her mouth suddenly dry. “What about you? Should I stay away from you?”
The muscles in his throat rippled as he swallowed. “Yeah.” His voice took on a rough edge. “You should. But we keep running into each other, don’t we?”
Too late, she realized she was leaning toward him. Into the smoke-and-leather smell of him, the warmth that radiated through his clothes. She was magnetized. The pull had snuck up on her, and now she was caught.
Just stress, she told herself. She was pissed, and a little scared, and trying to lean on the one safe shoulder in the immediate vicinity.
But it was more than that. It was the kind of attraction she’d only ever read about in novels.
“Ghost?” She had to wet her lips. “Will you take me home?”
His hand twitched, and she wondered what he’d almost done – what he’d wanted to do. “Yeah, sweetheart. Sure.”
~*~
She had him take her to Stephanie’s house so she could pick up her car. She spent the ride over – clinging to him, watching the road come at her over his steady shoulder – debating with herself. By the time they’d pulled up at the curb in front of the Monte Carlo, she’d decided to keep her mouth shut. Those girls might hate her, but they’d make a narc’s life miserable.
“You want me to follow you to your place?” Ghost asked when she handed back his extra helmet. She might have imagined it, but she thought there was a spark of…of hope in his eyes. Like he wanted that.
She wanted it too, if she was honest. She wanted more than that. An image of him tumbled back onto the white sheets of her bed popped into her mind and she knew that she blushed. But she shook her head. “No. Thanks for the ride.” On impulse, she leaned forward and brushed a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you,” she said again, quiet, pulse hammering in her ears.
Ghost stared at her in wide-eyed shock. “Uh…” he started.
“You don’t have to follow me.” She turned around before she could find too much meaning in his gaze.
~*~
“Margaret?” Denise called as she slipped in through the kitchen door. “Is that you?’
“Yeah, it’s me.”
