The Christmas Present. Tracy Wolff

you mind if I wait here for a cab?” she asked in a voice that suggested it wasn’t the first time she’d asked him the question.

      He shook his head to clear it, then watched her root around in her briefcase for her cell phone. “You’ll be waiting all night. You won’t catch a cabbie within three miles of this place once the sun goes down.”

      “Are you sure?”

      “Pretty sure, yeah.” He paused, then did what he’d known he was going to do all along. “I’ll drive you home.”

      Her eyes darted to his. “You don’t have to—”

      “Yes, I do, and we both know it. So can the obligatory protests and let’s go.” He headed toward the back of the shelter, and the alley where he kept his bike, without waiting to see if she followed. It wasn’t as if she had any other option.

      A quick stop by his office yielded an extra helmet, and then he was pushing the back door open. The cold December air rushed by him, making him shiver despite his leather jacket.

      He glanced behind him. If he was cold, Vivian must be freezing in her thin suit. “Here,” he said, as he shrugged out of his jacket. “Put this on.”

      She eyed the jacket uncertainly for a moment, then reached for it and slipped it around her shoulders. “Thanks. I appreciate it…. Where’s your car?”

      He laughed, then nodded to the motorcycle parked a few feet away. “We’re not taking a car.”

      “No car? But…” He watched her closely, taking perverse pleasure in the shock—and discomfort—that flitted across her face as she noticed the motorcycle for the first time. “We’re not riding that, are we?”

      “Sure we are. Now take the helmet.” To her credit, she did as he told her. He chose to ignore the fact that it was probably due to her surprise rather than any desire to actually get along with him.

      “Are you sure—” Her voice broke and she had to start again. “Are you sure this is the only way to get me home? I mean—”

      He laughed, then swung his leg over his prize Harley. “Relax. It’s a million times easier than riding a bicycle.” When she still didn’t move, he glanced at her impatiently. “Get on.”

      She just stared at him—and the bike—warily. But then the wind picked up, blowing hard between the buildings and making her shiver all over again.

      “Just swing your leg over the seat like I did,” he said.

      “Um, sure. But…”

      “But what?” He fought to keep the impatience out of his voice, but he was cold, tired and more than a little hungry, since he’d skipped both lunch and dinner to deal with center business. He knew his annoyance had leaked through when she stiffened.

      “What do I do with my briefcase?” She held up the brown leather bag she was carrying.

      “I’ll take care of it.” He grabbed it and started to shove it into the saddlebag of his bike, shocked at just how soft and supple the leather was. The thing had probably cost thousands of dollars—just one more thing to underscore the differences between them.

      Not that he should care about those differences. Not that he did care about them, he told himself. He finished buckling the saddlebag and said, “Now climb on.”

      Muttering beneath her breath—too low for him to hear what she was saying, which was probably a good thing—Vivian did as she was told. It wasn’t fast and it wasn’t pretty, but eventually she managed to get herself situated behind him. He was proud of himself for not laughing.

      “Now hang on,” he said, as he started the bike.

      “To what?” she yelled over the sudden roar of the engine.

      He did laugh then as he glanced behind him in disbelief. “To me!”

      It was the last thing he said before he slipped the bike onto Ellis and sent it roaring into the night.

      

      VIVIAN TIGHTENED HER ARMS around Rafael’s waist and tried not to scream as they sped through the nearly empty streets. It wasn’t easy, when every shift and shimmy of the bike had panic racing through her.

      When Rafael laughed as he careened around a corner, barely slowing the motorcycle down, she knew with absolute certainty that she had indeed gone crazy. Why else would she have her arms wrapped around a man who despised her as they barreled through the night toward certain death?

      Except it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d expected it to be. The smooth purr of the engine was kind of exciting, especially if she didn’t think about being completely unprotected in case of a crash. If she just focused on the wind whipping past her and the soft sway of their bodies as they rode through the night, it was almost relaxing. Even before she added in the strong, resilient warmth of Rafael’s back, which she was currently pressed against intimately.

      It was amazing that a man with such a nasty disposition could have such a comforting way about him. She’d noticed it first when he’d saved her from Nacho and his friends, and then when he was calming down Diego. Now here it was again as they were pressed breast to back, inner thigh to hip.

      He was like a furnace, the heat his body emanated absolutely amazing, especially since he didn’t have a jacket on. Yet somehow he managed to keep her warm throughout the wild ride, so warm that when they finally arrived at her apartment complex and she climbed off the bike, she somehow felt bereft without the contact.

      It was stupid, ridiculous, yet something about being wrapped around Rafael had made her feel safer than she’d felt in a long time. Shocked and more than a little frightened of the feeling, she found her voice came out more abruptly than she would have liked.

      “Thanks for the ride. And the rescue earlier. I appreciate it.” She took off the helmet and held it out to him.

      He didn’t reach for it right away, instead choosing to pull his own helmet off and study her. His eyes gleamed black in the rosy glow of the streetlight, and for one long moment she was trapped. Caught. Unable to move or think or do anything but feel as his eyes swept leisurely over her from head to toe.

      Her heart started to pound and her knees trembled—actually trembled—under the weight of his gaze. It was that small shake that jump-started her brain and had her backing away from him as panic skated down her spine.

      She didn’t need this, didn’t want this—with any man. Certainly not with a man who despised her very existence.

      “Don’t worry about it.” His voice was low and gruff. “But bring your car when you come on Thursday. You can park around back where I keep my bike. It should be safe there.”

      “Sure.” She looked over his shoulder, then down at the ground, anywhere but into those black-magic eyes that were somehow holding her in thrall. “Um, same time? Seven o’clock? That way, even if court runs late, I won’t be.”

      “Sure. And, Vivian?” He paused and silence stretched between them, so long and tense that finally she had to look up. As their gazes collided, she realized it was what he’d been waiting for. “Thanks for helping Diego.”

      Shock almost had her jaw dropping before she caught it. “I thought—”

      His smile, when it came, was rueful. “I was wrong. I thought you were there to go through the motions, that you really didn’t care—”

      “Of course I care!” The words burst from her. “Do you think I want to see that poor child go to jail for the rest of his life? For a crime he didn’t commit?”

      “I know, I know.” Rafael held out a hand as if to soothe her, but stopped just short of touching her. Yet she could still feel him, though she didn’t know how. Or why. “That’s why I wanted to apologize. I really appreciate what you’re trying to do for him. We both do.”

      She shook her head.