down Seventy-Seventh, he remembered the scornful look she’d given him earlier in the day. It seemed almost surreal that he was taking her home on a Harley just ten hours later, the insides of her thighs pressed to the outsides of his.
It had been one hell of a night.
He pulled up in front of her building and turned off the engine. “Home sweet home,” he said in the sudden quiet.
Kate didn’t move. “That was so cool,” she said almost wistfully. “I don’t want it to be over.”
Wondering briefly if he was making a mistake, he said, “It doesn’t have to be over. I could take you on a longer ride if you want.”
A moment of silence. Then: “That’s a nice offer, but I guess I’ll head inside. Thanks, though. And thanks for the ride. I loved it.”
At least one of them knew when to put the brakes on.
“I’m glad.”
The doorman was coming towards them, and Ian pulled off his helmet and hung it on a handlebar. “Is it okay if I park here for a few minutes?” he asked the man. “I’m going to walk Ms. Meredith to her door.”
The doorman stared. “Ms. Meredith? I didn’t recognize you. Of course, sir—you’ll be fine there for half an hour.”
“I won’t be that long,” Ian said easily. He slid off the bike and held out a hand to Kate.
She pulled off her own helmet and hung it on the other handlebar. That glorious copper hair of hers tumbled free, bouncing on her shoulders like living silk.
Why hadn’t she ever worn it down at work?
Probably so men like him wouldn’t adjust the front of their pants every time they looked at her.
Her face was flushed and she looked happy. She really had enjoyed the ride. “Are you sure you want to go up with me? You don’t have to. This is a safe building, and Andreas is right here,” she added, smiling at the doorman.
“Absolutely,” he said firmly. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I just dropped you off at the curb?”
She shrugged. “All right, then.”
Andreas held the door for them, and they stepped inside the elegant foyer.
“This is a nice building,” he commented as they waited for the elevator. “And it’s a great neighborhood.”
He couldn’t help wondering what the rent was like. What kind of savings did she have? Could she afford to go on living here after she’d lost her job?
He knew it was none of his business, but once they were inside the elevator he heard himself ask, “Are you going to be okay financially? While you’re in, uh, transition?”
He hoped she was too tipsy to notice how inappropriate the question was.
She looked at him with one eyebrow up. “How sweet of you to ask, Mr. Hart. Especially since you’re responsible for my ‘transition. ’ ”
Okay, she wasn’t too tipsy. But he had to know. “I just wondered if you had a backup plan. For living expenses.”
“My backup plan is the fact that I own my apartment. My grandparents left it to me. So I’m not going to be out on the streets, if that’s what’s worrying you,” she added drily.
He was relieved to hear it, but at the same time, the knowledge that she came from money reinforced his old feeling about Kate—that she’d never had to struggle for anything. It was easy for someone born rich to be idealistic and creative and oblivious, and to turn up her nose at practical realities like ratings and market share and stockholders’ meetings.
They arrived at the tenth floor, and the elevator opened. Kate crossed the hallway to apartment 10B and stopped in front of the door, pulling off his jacket and handing it to him.
“Thanks again for the ride—and for offering to be my date to the wedding from hell.” She spoke a little coolly, and Ian wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that he’d managed to dissipate any lingering electricity between them.
“No problem.”
She fished her key out of her purse, unlocked the door, and then paused with her hand on the knob. “Do you want to come in?” she asked, without