Savage glanced at his watch. “Don’t think it, Doris, I know it. Blythe looks like an angel, same as this one right here.” He brought up Seychelle’s hand and kissed it. “But both are little hellions. They disagree with me on just about everything and then sweetly ask if I want a cup of tea. Don’t you think that’s just a little suspicious?”
Seychelle couldn’t help the way her heart stuttered around him. Her big, bad biker sitting with the older women, making them laugh the way he did. He looked so wicked, his low, clipped voice so sexy she could barely stand it. A tearoom was the last place a man like Savage would ever go. He would never sit at a table with a group of older women, chatting, making them laugh. She knew he was there for one reason. For her. He was there for her.
He had his fingers threaded through hers, their joined hands on his thigh, rubbing seductively back and forth while he conversed. Sabelia brought his coffee and the pastries and sandwiches, which he ate with one hand so he could keep hers captive. It was impossible not to be in love with him, to slide deeper and deeper under his spell, when she knew she was only going to suffer more heartache if she didn’t save herself.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Savage suddenly pressed her hand tighter against his thigh and leaned close, his lips whispering against her ear. A touch only. The lightest of kisses, if it was even really that, but the caress sent little darts of fire racing down her spine, straight to her sex. He was addicting. It was scary how much he could wrap her up emotionally as well as physically.
The bells tinkled merrily and Eden Ravard hurried in. She waved to them, smiling widely. “I didn’t think my hair was ever going to get finished. It isn’t even long, and it took forever to get blown out.”
“Well worth the wait,” Savage said.
Eden giggled like a schoolgirl. Savage had gone to her house twice with Seychelle, helping out in emergencies in spite of the fact that she had four sons and a stepson, none of whom were ever around. The ladies fanned themselves and Seychelle shook her head. “Don’t fall for his charm. He’s a bad-boy biker.”
Sometimes Seychelle didn’t know who Savage was. He rarely spoke, even when they went together to visit her older friends’ homes. He would prowl around looking to do repairs, and she would do all the actual visiting. Other times, he’d turn into Mr. Charm, like now.
“Best kind,” Eden said. “What did I miss?”
Doris nodded in agreement. “Look at Seychelle’s ring, Eden. You missed that.”
Savage brought her hand out over the table, securely trapped in his, for Eden to admire the ring. When she’d done enough complimenting, he kissed the stone and stood up, tugging Seychelle with him. She couldn’t help the way her stomach did little somersaults and her heart accelerated.
“I really have to get back to the clubhouse, ladies. I left a meeting to come here and see my woman. I’d like to borrow her for a few minutes if you don’t mind.”
She shouldn’t go with him. She didn’t need to be alone with him, not for one moment. She had to finish her lunch with the ladies, ask for a ride to her house—or just walk now that Lana was gone—and be alone just for a little while to think things over. The last thing she needed to do was be alone with Savage. Even knowing that it was the worst possible idea, Seychelle followed him right out of the Floating Hat.
“Savage.” She tried a half-hearted protest when he tucked her under his arm once they were on the sidewalk, heading toward his Harley.
Jackson Deveau, the deputy sheriff, was standing next to the motorcycle in full uniform, looking as if he was inspecting it. Savage didn’t even hesitate. He walked her right up to the motorcycle, ignoring the cop.
“Stopped by to tell you congratulations,” Jackson said.
Savage glanced at him, no expression on his face. “News travels fast. Thanks. Just gave her the ring a little while ago.”
Jackson frowned and then turned his attention to Seychelle as Savage swung his leg over the bike and settled onto the seat with a creak of the leather.
“Ma’am. Didn’t realize. I was talking about your man and his little prank he pulled. It was a nice one, and I want him to know the full extent so he can gloat about it.”
“Don’t have a clue what you’re going on about, Deveau, so spit it out. Got a meeting to get to.” Savage’s tone, his voice, were as expressionless as the mask on his face. “Was just going to say good-bye to my woman.”
He was lying. Nothing gave him away, but he knew exactly what Jackson was talking about, and Seychelle wanted to know what it was.