Page 93 of A Legal Affair
“Just for a ride. Dress comfortably.”
Five minutes later, she emerged wearing a short-sleeved red shirt and her favorite pair of blue skinny jeans over leather ankle boots. She liked the way the stretch denim molded her ass and rode low on her hips, leaving her midriff exposed.
So, apparently, did Caleb. He turned at her reappearance and swore softly under his breath. Flashing a pleased grin, Daniela grabbed her keys and stuffed her phone and driver’s license in her back pocket so she wouldn’t have to carry her purse.
As they left the house and started across the front yard, Daniela waved at her neighbor Mrs. Flores, who was peeking atthem from behind the lace curtains of her living room window across the street. Amused, Caleb also waved at the old woman and then grinned when a pale, bony hand lifted slowly in greeting.
Daniela gaped at him. “I think she likes you!” she said accusingly.
Caleb chuckled. “Hey, what can I say?”
“No woman is immune,” Daniela grumbled. “Not even paranoid ninety-eight-year-old recluses.”
That drew another low laugh from Caleb. But as they reached the Ducati parked at the curb, Daniela’s attention was quickly diverted.
“Wow.” She whistled, awestruck. “Noice.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Caleb agreed, eyeing the high-performance superbike with almost rapturous appreciation. “A Ducati Panigale V4 R. Advanced aerodynamics. Two hundred nine horsepower with a racing exhaust system. Torque like you wouldn’t believe.” He ran his hand across the gleaming tank. “Sweet.”
“Verysweet,” Daniela breathed, walking around the motorcycle to check it out from every angle. “I can’t believe this monster is street-legal.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Wowza,” Daniela marveled, admiring the Italian machine’s classic lines and cherry red finish that glistened under the streetlights. “She’s amazing, Caleb. I’m glad she really exists.”
He grinned, picking up one of the matching matte-black helmets and passing it to her. He watched her put it on and fasten the chin strap before he donned the other helmet and nimbly straddled the bike.
Practically vibrating with excitement, Daniela climbed onto the leather seat behind him and wrapped her arms around his broad back, her thighs pressed tight against his, palms bracedagainst his ripped muscles. He hit the starter, and the powerful engine rumbled to life, grabbing her heart and making it pump hard and fast. She tightened her arms around Caleb until he laughed.
“Easy on the ribs, sweetheart,” his voice came through her helmet’s speaker. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”
She could barely hear him above the roar of the engine, but she knew she was in good hands. She trusted Caleb with her life—literally, it now seemed.
He pulled away from the curb and sped off down the quiet tree-lined street, making it to the highway in record time. At that late hour there was very little traffic. Caleb took full advantage and opened up the throttle, the machine leaning from one side to the other as he skillfully weaved in and out of lanes. Daniela squealed excitedly, reveling in the speed and power, in the wind rushing through the uncovered ends of her hair. The engine pounded relentlessly beneath them—pumping, throbbing, burning, until Daniela felt as if she were one with the bike. She tightened her arms around Caleb’s waist and nestled closer to him, feeling as if they, too, were one.
The Ducati boasted an enhanced custom sound system, so that when Caleb cranked up a Lenny Kravitz song, she felt every pulsing vibration of the electric guitar and Lenny’s gritty rock lyrics in her bones. Caleb sang and bobbed his head in time with “Fly Away,” and laughing, Daniela joined him. She felt joyously weightless, as if she were made of nothing but air. Though she’d ridden a motorcycle before, she couldn’t remember the ride being so utterly exhilarating, so breathlessly intoxicating.
Caleb took them into the bright lights of downtown San Antonio, zipping past beautiful old Spanish colonial buildings, and billboards advertising various local restaurants and Spurs’ season tickets. Before long, Daniela realized that theirdestination was either the River Walk—or Caleb’s apartment. Her heart raced at the latter possibility.
He roared into the parking garage connected to the Towers at the Majestic and pulled into one of his assigned spaces. Dropping the kickstand, he killed the engine and removed his helmet while Daniela carefully climbed off the bike.
“That was fun,” she teased, breathless. “Bonus points for not getting us killed.”
Caleb laughed and swung his long leg over the Ducati, dismounting with fluid ease. “Damned with faint praise.”
Grinning, Daniela removed her helmet and shook her curly tresses forward then backward like some model in a shampoo commercial.
Caleb stared at her. “Do that again.”
“What? This?” She swung out her hair again, and he groaned softly.
“God, everything you do turns me on.”
A ripple of pleasure coursed through her. “Same,” she told him with a flirty wink.
He grinned, pleased.
After stowing their helmets, he took her hand, and together they started across the parking garage until they came to the street exit, joining the flow of other people heading down to the River Walk in search of exciting night life. Daniela didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that they weren’t going up to Caleb’s apartment.
