Читать книгу Bride Fit for a Prince - Rebecca Winters - Страница 9

THIS was ecstasy.

Nicco had incredible control as he wove so smoothly between cars. The daring way he took corners with breathtaking accuracy, every practiced move as she leaned with him, conveyed the expertise of a racing pro.

When he wasn’t working for the prince, did he race? Was that how he could afford the bike? Or was this a special model paid for by sponsors?

A rush of adrenaline surged through her veins at the possibility she could be riding with one of the very best in the world. Yet she sensed he was still being careful to make certain nothing happened to her.

Callie wondered where he was taking them. The freeway seemed to be leading away from Torino’s core to the outskirts. They whizzed past centuries-old residences and fairy-tale palaces of Baroque design.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Torino with its four rivers and miles of gardens had been left behind. They’d reached an alpine valley that looked like a patchwork quilt of vineyards. A marvelous fruity essence seemed to envelop them.

Though the air had grown cooler, Nicco’s warmth had invaded her body from her shoulders down. They were melded like two hot metals in a refiner’s fire. The feeling of oneness was indescribable.

Never wanting their magical ride to end, she moaned in disappointment when he pulled off the road to follow a path through the vegetation. It was evident he knew about this spot. She assumed he wanted to rest for a minute before returning to the city.

Soon they arrived at a charming three-story farmhouse with a portico. Closed green shutters stood out against the pale orange exterior.

He geared down and came to a stop in the empty courtyard. The place appeared deserted to her. Remembering her plan, now would be the best time to make her getaway. Otherwise she might never have another opportunity.

Callie quickly got down from the bike and lifted the shield of her helmet. While she waited for him to climb off, she looked all around. Tall cypress trees were silhouetted against the sky, heralding the approach of night. She would need the motorcycle’s headlights to help her find the way out of the mountains.

The second he swung his leg over she said, “That was an exhilarating ride. Before we go back to town, can I sit on it by myself for a minute?”

Nicco was still wearing his helmet which made it impossible to read his expression. He raised his shield.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you think you could help me up?”

He made a little sound which could have been exasperation. She wasn’t sure, but he did as she asked. With effortless masculine economy he lifted her on to the seat which she straddled.

“This is more exciting than opening my favorite present on Christmas morning! How do you make the dials light up like an airplane cockpit?”

With a swift movement he reached in front of her to turn on the key which was still in the ignition. The motion caused his arm to brush against her chest. Such intimate contact, even if it was accidental, sent her pulse zinging off the charts.

“I-it’s a beautiful work of art isn’t it?” her voice almost squeaked because she was shaking so hard in reaction.

“Are we still talking about the bike?” he asked in a sensuous tone.

The darkness hid the red staining her cheeks.

To her surprise his hands went to his chin strap. He was about to remove his helmet. She couldn’t understand why, not when she assumed they’d be going right back to the city. Still, it was the exact kind of distraction Callie could take advantage of to carry out her next move.

She waited till he started to lift it over his head. Wasting no more time, she kicked the stand back, then pushed the start button. As she pulled in the clutch at the same time, the bike took off like a missile shot from a silo.

Callie heard an immediate explosion of Italian invective behind her, but it quickly faded because of the engine’s whine. Praying to gain as much time as possible, she opened up on the dirt road.

Good heavens—there was so much power between her legs, she almost lost control as it ate up the kilometers leading down the main road to Torino.

If she could reach the American Embassy, she would ask for help getting home. At that point Nicco could claim his motorcycle while Callie’s sister arranged for an attorney to deal with Prince Enzo.

Five miles later she whipped through the tiny town of Monferrato. About a mile beyond it, the bike seemed to lose steam. She downshifted and gave it more throttle. Nothing happened.

To her horror, the fuel gauge registered empty!

No-o-o-o-o-o.

She had no choice but to coast to the side of the road and pull to a stop.

Much as she wanted to thumb a ride from a passing car, she didn’t dare leave a $150,000 bike sitting out in the open. It was too heavy to push anywhere, so the only thing she could do was wait until a motorist came along and she could pay for them to buy her a can of gas back in Monferrato.

Someone must have been watching out for her because she saw an old blue truck coming along the road in her direction. The driver slowed down and pulled over to the shoulder. Leaving the headlights on, he got out of the cab.

As she watched, she saw a tall, well-honed male walk toward her carrying a gas can in one hand, a helmet in the other. When she realized who it was, her legs began to tremble and wouldn’t stop.

Looking at him or touching him, she couldn’t deny Nicco was an exceptionally beautiful man.

In the animal kingdom there were gradations of beauty. Valentino took top honors for a boxer dog. If there were such a contest for the human male, Nicco would be hailed as grand champion. To find herself this attracted to him made it particularly hard to remember he was her enemy.