High Heels & Bicycle Wheels

‘I don’t want to wimp out.’ Her bottom lip juddered. ‘But I feel sick.’

Unbelievable. ‘Not another one.’ He let out a slow breath. What was with everyone today?

‘I’m too scared to look forward, so I look sideways, but then everything flashes past and makes me dizzy.’

Pulling herself together might help. ‘You need to look forwards over my shoulder.’

She grimaced. ‘It’s all so fast.’

Now he’d heard it all.

‘The speed’s the best bit. The exhilaration. It’s the closest to flying you’ll get without wings.’

‘I don’t do thrills. Or flying.’ She chomped hard on her thumbnail and gave what looked like an involuntary judder. ‘I hate sledging, I refuse to ski, going downhill fast is my worst nightmare, because I hate not being in control.’

A control-freak to boot. Today just got better and better. ‘Great. You’ll just have to postpone your enjoyment until you get back in your armchair then.’

‘I thought that with the flat course it would be okay.’ Her eyes staring up at him were gut-wrenchingly blue.

‘Flat? Whoever told you that?’ Someone clearly forgot to mention the gentle ten mile climb to a big final descent and he wasn’t about to enlighten her. Biting back his exasperation, he pulled his water bottle out of its cage on the bike frame and thrust it towards her. ‘Have a drink, it might make you feel better.’

The shake of her hand as she grasped it sent an unexpected jolt of sympathy through him, making him want to reach out, rub a comforting palm across her back. Yet he held back, firmly, as he watched her lips close around the bottle top. Chasing sunsets? Reaching out? Not him. Not in this life. Even though the vulnerability of her neck as she tipped her head back to drink sent his stomach crashing to hit the deck. She took a long draft, then pulled her legs up and tucked her chin onto her knees.

‘Too many raspberry muffins, maybe.’ Flicking a strand of hair away from her mouth, she gave a rueful grimace and tapped the drinking bottle with one, perfectly manicured, russet nail.

Polished nails and tandems? He should have known better. ‘You don’t have to do this. We can walk back; it’s only round the corner.’

She flew back at him in an instant. ‘There’s no way I’m giving up.’

So, that put him in his place. Again.

‘Okay. We’ll give it one more go. I’ll raise the saddle, so you’ll sit higher. This time you face forwards and we’ll take it steady. You only have to say the word and we’ll stop.’

Hopefully, that would placate her.

‘You don’t understand.’ She fixated on him with narrowed eyes as she unfolded her legs, rubbed her nose again and clambered to her feet. ‘Giving up isn’t what I do.’

Got that now. And staring down your top isn’t what he did, except the way she was standing, tugging at her jacket. He couldn’t help but notice. He swallowed hard, trying to dispel all thoughts of rolling his tongue around what had snagged his attention; but he failed, just as he failed to avert his eyes.

‘Are you cold?’ That was enough to break the spell.

‘Oh, drat.’ She flung her arms around herself, and, dammit, he lost the view of what had the potential to be the most promising set of nipples in the history of the world. Although, on the plus side, he gained an insight into how fast a blush could splash across a girls cheeks – also sexy as hell. Somehow he didn’t have her down as a blusher, but her grimace was telling him she was dying here.

‘Here. Take this.’ In a flash he’d unzipped and flung his own jacket round her shoulders. ‘I’m warm anyway.’

Ever the gentleman, as long as he wasn’t mesmerised, obviously. Warm had been an understatement. Overheated more like.

‘Thanks.’ Absentmindedly, she pushed an arm into a sleeve. ‘If you’re sure.’

Not looking at him when she was talking to him, then. Following her sightline downwards, he saw that her eyes had locked onto something a lot lower than his face.

‘Aw, damn.’

Length and width – and plenty of both – bulged against the glossy black sheath of his shorts on proud display, and still more to give. Thanks to the God of Lycra for the stretch. His attempt to whack the bulge into submission with the heel of his hand failed.

‘Gotcha.’ Bryony, eyes shining, proving she could serve an ace return.

Cheeks pinker than ever now that he’d caught her, her lips twisting into a grin that lit up the world, as she zipped herself into the safe haven of his jacket. And not backing down.

‘So you did.’ He gave a snort. ‘No place to hide in Lycra.’

Not backing down. And sharing the joke. He liked that in a woman, even a high maintenance one.

‘Come on.’ He glanced swiftly at his watch. ‘We’d better get moving if we’re going to catch this race.’

‘Made it!’

Bryony caught the grin Jackson flung over his shoulder as they whizzed under the start banner, chasing the other riders who were already a hundred yards down the road. At least now her seat was higher and she could see ahead, she was less queasy. Getting travel sick on a tandem…she’d never live that one down. In a blur out of the corner of her eye, she caught Cressy, arms flailing like windmill sails, yelling.

‘The camera bike will catch you up!’

Then she was gone, her words lost in the rush of air. And who even cared about cameras? Damn it to that, in spades. A TV production woman who forgot about filming?

In front of Bryony, Jackson was up on the pedals now, bouncing from side to side, giving chase. Navigating, steering, and zig-zagging alarmingly between the other tandems as they caught up with the bunch.

‘Oh, my. This so wasn’t my best idea.’ One groan to comfort herself, perked up by the view.

Wow, that was one toned butt. As for the muscles in those thighs… Nudging her hand too, as he sank back onto his saddle. OMG. I just touched Jackson Gale’s…

‘Blimey.’A bump in the road threw her out of the saddle, cancelling all wayward thoughts.

‘You okay back there?’ He slung a grin over his shoulder. ‘Don’t forget to hang on.’

She locked her fingers more tightly on the handle bars. If she didn’t concentrate here she’d be off the flaming back. Her wrists were already burning with the effort of holding on, and they’d hardly even begun. If it had been achingly scary going slowly round the block, now they were weaving in and out of other bikes right across the road – it was terrifying.

‘At least I haven’t chucked up.’ Yet.

‘It’ll soon be over, it’s only ten miles.’ Another nugget tossed in her direction. ‘We’ll get ahead of the rest of the field and keep out of trouble.’

So comforting. Not.

‘It all feels like trouble.’ It was alright for him. He was used to it.

‘There’s no serious competition. Most people are in fancy dress.’ Another spurt, and he gave a loud guffaw as they accelerated past a custard-yellow cloud. ‘We ruffled Donald Duck’s feathers there!’

What crazy place had she landed in?

‘Only a guy could be that competitive about overtaking cartoon characters.’ Craning her neck as she shouted, she peered past his ear and saw capes up ahead. ‘Batman and Robin – they’ll give us a run for our money.’