Part 4 (1/2)

'I don't give second chances.'

'And why's that?'

'Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.'

He slowly chewed some toast and swallowed. 'See there's my problem. I never feel ashamed of anything I do, especially in bed.'

Robyn licked her lips and tasted maple syrup and coffee. Despite his amiable farm-boy exterior, Dakota was as sharp as a tack. Perhaps she'd better be more careful about baiting him.

'Well, with all your extensive ”experience” you should know better than to brag.'

He shook his head. 'That was lame, Robyn. What's up? Lost your nerve?'

'Not at all. I'm just trying to back away from you and your huge ego.'

He sat back, coffee mug in hand and stretched. Her gaze was drawn to the flexing muscles in his chest and shoulders. His smile was slow and deliberately s.e.xy. 'But is it ego when it's all true?'

'You are one of the most irritating and conceited men I've ever met.'

'Thanks. From you, I'll take that as a compliment.'

Dakota glanced across at his silent companion. She hadn't said a word since they'd left the diner. He'd enjoyed seeing her eat though, enjoyed teasing her too if he was truthful. But then she'd clammed up and all the easiness between them disappeared just like that. Of course that was women all over. One minute everything was fine, the next nothing. He could never keep up.

'This isn't the way back to the motel,' she said.

'You're right.' He kept walking, waited for her to speak again.

'Then where are we going?'

'Back to my truck. I told you I have stuff to do.'

She stopped and stuck her hands in her pockets. 'Then do it. Give me the key and I'll go back by myself.'

'My, you have a lousy memory, don't you?'

'What?'

She raised her chin to glare at him, her dark eyes striking sparks. He fought back an appreciative smile.

'I said I need some help and you're it.'

'I can't fix your truck and I'm certainly not pus.h.i.+ng it.'

'No? A big strong girl like you?'

Leaving her rooted to the spot, he kept walking until he reached his pickup and unlocked the driver's door, letting out the acc.u.mulated heat. He fished inside the glovebox and found his other set of keys. Robyn's shadow fell across him as he turned around.

'The truck doesn't work, dumb a.s.s. It is broken,' she said.

'These aren't for the truck.'

He unlocked the double back doors of the trailer and let them swing wide. The familiar smell of horse manure and leather washed over him. Two of the narrow diagonal stalls were empty awaiting the return of his horses, the third was full. With a satisfied grunt, Dakota whipped off the sheet covering his other pride and joy.

'It's a motorcycle.'

He smiled at Robyn. 'Yeah. And not just any motorcycle, it's a Ducati 1098.'

'Is that supposed to impress me?'

'I doubt anything would impress you, lady.' He kicked off the stand and reversed the bike out of the stall. 'We just need to clean it up and then we can go shopping.'

'Shopping?'

Dakota turned away to hide his grin at her sudden interest. He'd never met a woman who didn't like to shop sometimes. From behind the bike he picked up the bucket of cleaning supplies and brought them outside.

'We have to clean it up first.'

Robyn stared at the cleaning stuff Dakota unloaded from the bucket. 'I don't clean.'

'Then you don't shop.'

He stared at her, the smile gone from his face. Underneath that smooth charm was a rugged determination to get his own way that rivaled her own. But she did need to shop, even if only for new panties. He picked up the now empty bucket and rolled up his sleeves.

'I'll get some water from the gas station. Why don't you start by dusting the chrome?'

He turned his back on her and sauntered across to the gas station. Robyn shaded her eyes against the sun and glared after him. Clean the bike? What would he ask her to do next, his laundry? f.u.c.k that. With a martyred sigh she picked up a duster and flicked it over the handlebars of the bike.

Who would've thought Dakota would own such a flashy yellow bike? It looked expensive, and she knew expensive. She'd pictured him on an old broken-down Harley not something so obviously European. She frowned at her distorted expression in the chrome. Yet another inconsistency in that wholesome exterior, yet another faade. Was there anyone left in the world who was exactly what they said they were?

'Move over.'

She jumped as Dakota crouched down beside her and squirted soap into the bucket of water. He handed her a sponge.

'Don't clean the seat, just the metal, OK? I'll start on the other side.'

She started slow, glancing across at him as he worked, his concentration all on the bike and not her. Sweat collected on her brow and trickled down her face.

'Why don't you take your coat off?'

He finally looked across at her and she smiled.

'What if I don't want to?'

'Then you'll probably die of heat exhaustion.' He continued his loving attention to the bike and Robyn pouted.

'That's good to know.' She risked another glance at him. 'Are you going to make me?'

'Take your coat off? Nope, you're a big girl; you can make up your own mind.'

'So you'd rather I got sick than help me.'