From the Author
Robyn stopped next to a pink one with white and silver trim,turning to smile again at Chris who was standing a few feet behind her,watching her peruse the evidence of his youthful stupidity.
"This looks like a woman chose it," she said.
"Probably," Chris shrugged. "I can't remember where most ofthem came from."
"I'd love to ride this one."
"You know how to ride?"
Robyn stroked the white leather seat. "No. But I wish I did.Then I would take the fastest bike I could find, go out to the desert somewhereand just open that sucker up."
"You would, huh?"
Robyn looked at him, noting the skepticism in his tone."Yeah, I would."
He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans that werebaggy and slung low on his hip, though not below them any longer. He seemed tohave stopped doing that in the last couple of years, thank goodness. In fact,he seemed more . . . adult now than Robyn remembered, more like a man than theman-child she was accustomed to thinking of him as.
He had a smooth, chocolate-brown complexion anddark-as-night, deep-set eyes, the barest hint of a mustache, and an angularjaw-line that made him look hard. And when he wasn't smiling, an almost cruelmouth. He was mean-sexy. That's how Robyn would describe him if someone asked.A hard, but magnetic man. Maybe six-one or so, Chris was fit in the manner of aman who worked out for strength, rather than bulk. At a distance though hemight appear almost slender, up close, like they were now, Robyn could see thedefinition in his chest and arms and the trimness of his waist. He was builtlike a sprinter, unobtrusively strong and lean, his physical power evident onlyif you paid attention.
"Maybe I'll take you out sometime. For a ride."
"You could," Robyn said. "But what would be better would beif I could ride on my own." She raised her eyebrows at him and grinned, knowingit was a ridiculous suggestion.
"You'd have to get lessons first," Chris pointed out.
"Yeah," Robyn sighed. "There is that. One day."
She removed her hand from the pink motorcycle and moved on,walking among the others, taking in the names--some she recognized like Ducati,Harley Davidson, and BMW, and others unfamiliar, like Ecosse, and Macchia Nera.They were amazing to look at, but one day, she promised herself, one day . . .
"So you want to go fast?" Chris asked.
"I would love togo fast."
"I'm not sure you could handle how fast I might go."