One More Kiss (Forsaken Sons Book 1) by Elizabeth Lennox (summer beach reads .txt) 📗

office, it took Kinsley a long moment to shift gears.  “I’m sorry?”

He waved his hand.  “Leave all that.  I need your help with something.”

Kinsley grabbed a pen and notebook, and obediently followed behind Lincoln.  “How can I help?” she asked, excited for a distraction after working in her office all week with no interruptions other than phone calls from reporters and investors asking, demanding, threatening, and terrorizing her in their efforts to speak with Lincoln Meyers.  One person had literally threatened an FBI investigation on her if she didn’t bring the man to the phone immediately.  At that time, Lincoln hadn’t even been in the building…at least, she hadn’t seen him that morning.  But…that wasn’t out of the ordinary.  Some days, she didn’t see him at all, although he’d leave instructions on her desk.

He fascinated her and the more she learned about him, the more she…liked.  If her boyfriend became angry when she refused to tell him anything about her new, mysterious employer or what she was doing for the famous recluse, it didn’t bother Kinsley in the least.  She considered guarding his privacy part of her job.

“Kinsley!” he bellowed.

Kinsley glared at his back from her doorway.  “I’m not a dog, Mr. Meyers,” she snapped.  “And I’m right here, waiting for instruction.  No need to bellow when a kind word will suffice.”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.  Did his gaze move over her figure?  Kinsley wasn’t sure.

“I’m well aware of that fact.”  He turned and headed out the door, disappearing into one of the rare sunny days in Seattle.

Kinsley followed at a more leisurely pace.  She wasn’t racing after a man who hollered at her.  No way!

When she stepped outside, he was already sitting on his motorcycle, strapping his helmet on. “Here,” he handed a helmet to her.  “Put this on and climb on.”

Kinsley blinked at the helmet in her hands, not sure what he meant.  “Why would I put this on?”

“Because I need your help.  Come on.”

She eyed the bike, then at his massive back that was literally rippling with muscles underneath a white tee shirt.  Swallowing, she shook her head, stepping back from the bike.  “Nope.  I don’t ride motorcycles.  Do you know what the death rate on motorcycles is these days?”

He chuckled.  “I’m very well aware of the death rate.  Which is why I need your help.”

Again, she shook her head, tucking the helmet underneath her arm.  “Nope.  No way!”

He chuckled.  “Fine.  Drive your little Prius over to the track.”  A moment later, he was off, zipping down the driveway towards the mysterious area she’d wondered about.

For a long moment, Kinsley stared after him, not sure if she should follow him down that mysterious road, or head back into her office to figure out the zillions of seemingly random receipts.  Eventually, curiosity got the better of her. She was eager to spend a little time outside of those four, harshly white walls.  Hurrying back around the building, she grabbed her keys and drove around the building in the direction Lincoln had gone.

Sure enough, he’d parked the motorcycle next to what looked like a huge racetrack.  It even banked at the ends, presumably for safety when a vehicle rounded those corners.  Huh!  The guy owned a racetrack!  That was new.  She’d heard of home theaters or basketball courts, private exercise rooms, even a special studio in one’s house for yoga.  The rich and famous tended to be an odd breed.  But none of the articles she’d read included a racetrack on a wealthy person’s estate.

“Okay, I’m here.  How can I help?”

He was attaching something to the motorcycle, using a wrench and a few other tools that Kinsley didn’t recognize.  “Grab a pair of headphones from that box over there and put them on.  I’ll be talking to you through the speaker connected to my helmet.  You’ll need to time and log the various intervals I’ll give you.”  He stood up and Kinsley’s eyes moved down over his long, muscular legs, her mouth going a bit dry.

Stop staring at his legs, she scolded herself.  But her eyes drifted upward, taking in his thigh muscles.  And his arms.  The tee shirt had short sleeves, so she could see the bulging muscles in his arms.  The triceps twitched every time he turned the wrench, mesmerizing her.

Blinking hard, she forced her gaze away and peered in the direction he’d pointed.  There was a box filled with headphones and other strange equipment, a tangled mess of speakers and wires and odd things poking out of the box that didn’t seem to have anything to do with headphones.

She walked over and pulled at something that looked like a single headphone set, unraveling the wires to release the headset.  “What am I timing?”

“Me,” he said as he swung his leg over the motorcycle, kicked the stand out of the way and revved the engine.  Sliding the helmet back over his head, he glanced over at her, nodding towards the headsets again.

Quickly, Kinsley put the headphones on, then stepped closer when he motioned for her forward.

He reached out to adjust the microphone, his touch making her skin tingle, then flipped a switch under her right ear. She shivered, and tried to pretend she hadn’t.

“Can you hear me now?”

His deep, sexy voice came right through to her ear.  She nodded, feeling that tingling sensation envelop her.

 “Say something so that I can test your microphone, to make sure that you’re connected to me as well.”

Despite the rumbling of his motorcycle engine, Kinsley could hear him clearly through the head set.  “Is this okay?”

He grinned and winked at her.  “Perfect.”

Kinsley managed not to shiver again, but it was more of a struggle than she’d care to admit.

When he finally turned away, Kinsley breathed a sigh of relief.

Her relief was short-lived as she watched