Page 23 of Thief

“Happy memories?” John’s deep voice came over her shoulder.

She startled and pushed her palm to her chest as she turned. “Why the hell do you do that?” she asked.

“What?”

“Sneak up.”

“Because I can.”

“It’s irritating.”

“I know.” He moved over to the bed and shook out the duvet.

“And why are you so neat?”

“A lifelong habit.” He smoothed the cotton straight with his palms and aligned the pillows. “You’re the only woman to sleep in this bed with me,” he said matter-of-factly as he captured her gaze. “Although technically that’s not true, because I’m guessing you didn’t sleep at all.”

Kat scowled.

“You were just waiting for me to fall asleep,” he went on, “so you could sneak off.”

“If I’d fallen asleep, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“How do you mean?”

“Carlos isn’t someone to keep waiting.” Or disappoint, she thought with a shiver.

“Perhaps you’d still be here, maybe I wouldn’t have let you leave at all.”

“Except for the fact you were planning to start your new life the next day. You know, cruising the English Channel, driving into Europe and all that.”

“Ahh, yes, there is that minor detail.” He stepped up to her, reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair over her ear. He dropped his head low to hers, and she wondered if he was going to kiss her again like he had in the changing cubicle.

He didn’t.

She was glad.

“Time to go,” he said straightening. “All this sex has given me a raging appetite.”

During the next thirty minutes Kat discovered a new way to achieve a serious high. Motor bikes.?The rush was amazing and her adrenaline flowed big time.?John was an expert rider, cutting through traffic and speeding down back streets. Leaning this way and that and searching out a path through obstacles and other vehicles. She leant her helmet against his stooped back as he took the bike to sixty in a thirty. The rapid acceleration slid her backwards on the seat, and she sealed her grasp around his middle all the tighter.

It crossed her mind as they weaved between two double-deckers that she’d never trusted anyone with her physical safety so much. Once again she was handing herself over to John in a way she never had before—with anyone.

* * * *

They rolled to a halt in the underground parking of her apartment block. “How’d you like the bike?” John asked, pulling off his helmet.

“It’s awesome!” Kat said, a broad grin rounding her flushed cheeks. “I’m going to get lessons so I can ride like that, because after you’re gone, this will be my bike. So much better than a cab for getting around London. I can definitely see why you went for it.” She fluffed her hair, and it fell around the leather on her shoulders like a river of treacle.

John was about to speak but stopped himself. He didn’t want to burst her bubble by telling her he’d had specialist training handling bikes in a host of terrains. If she thought she’d be able to have a few lessons and ride like a pro, then he’d let her have her delusion. What difference did one more make to the grand total of her many weird assumptions about life?

But her enthusiasm was contagious, and like her, he forgot to be hostile as they wandered into the Marks and Spencer opposite her building. Kat talked animatedly about future trips on the Ninja, the places she’d go and the speeds she’d travel at. John went along with her fantasy, chipped in advice and even laughed out loud when she claimed she’d soon be the female version of Evil Knievil.

His face darkened and his eyebrows pulled low as they stepped through the automatic door of the shop. As a couple, they were hugely conspicuous in their creakingly tight leathers. His tall, looming frame and her curvy little one had caused several sets of eyes to turn in their direction and remain settled there.

Actually, it wasn’t the leathers drawing attention, he soon deduced, or even him. It was the way Kat moved in her gear, the way she worked her body around people, up the aisles and past displays.

He grabbed a basket and negotiated through dairy a few paces behind her. She seemed oblivious to the alluring roll of her hips and the swish of her hair as she turned and threw random items into the basket. Couldn’t she just tone down the wiggle? Keep that smoothly rounded arse just a little bit under control?

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