The Princess and the Pauper Page 3

  He turned the motorcycle. “You’re going to fall off if you don’t move closer,” Jesse remarked.

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Just don’t ruin the coat.”

  The engine fired, cutting off April’s sharp retort. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of his broad shoulders and the rock-hard muscles of his upper arms. The motorcycle popped forward, nearly unseating her. She scrambled for a hold, swearing under her breath as the cycle gained speed, and they curved onto the highway.

  She clung to him, tears streaming from her eyes, the wind shrieking past her ears once again. The heat of his body warmed her chilled hands. Her bare thighs nestled tightly against his jeans-clad ones. She would have given anything to put some space between them at that moment; his smugness was beyond irritating. But she wasn’t about to flirt with death, so she pressed herself to him as closely as she could. Her breath banned the silky hair at his nape that stuck out beneath his helmet; her mind screamed at him every name she could think of at him.

  They wound through the outskirts of town and eventually hit the two-lane highway that connected Rock Springs to the interstate freeway. It was a straight stretch of road, a ribbon of pavement stretching to the horizon without a single stop sign or streetlight. Jesse wrapped up the motor until its whining filled April’s head. Abruptly he shifted gears and the motorcycle picked up speed.

  As a means of invoking terror, April could hardly imagine anything worse than this ride. She was sure she was going to die. Biting into her bottom lip, she closed her eyes and ears and simply clung on.

  She didn’t lack courage. But high-speed driving on a motorcycle was a fool’s game. What did she know that Jesse Cawthorne, anyway? He could be drunk. Or worse. He could nurse a death wish. Maybe he lured unsuspecting women to take rides to some abandoned, out-of-the-way place so that he could throw them down and… and…

  April opened her eyes. The mental image made her heart lurched. She thought of smooth, hard muscle and demanding kisses. It shook her viscerally. Swallowing hard, she glanced at the line of his jaw, the curving bone and beard-darkened skin.

  What am I thinking? she thought with shock.

  Pinpoints of light flickered in the distance. They were approaching the freeway intersection. Clearing her throat, April yelled into his ear. “I’m not going on the freeway! I’d rather be left on the side of the road than die at seventy miles an hour!”

  He gave no sign of having heard her. Slowly he decreased speed to turn gracefully into the parking lot of a truck stop. There was a small restaurant from whose window a red neon sign quiveringly announced that they served Miller’s on tap.

  He stopped in front of a concrete bumper guard, dropping one leg and unstrapping his helmet. This time April was quicker. She was on her feet beside the machine before Jesse could knock down the kickstand.

  She was at a complete loss for words, eyeing him with smoldering rebellion. He, in turn, regarded her with cool speculation.

  “We’re a long way from Windsor Estates,” April managed to say in a voice that shook slightly as she took off her helmet, too.

  “About thirteen miles.”

  “What do you plan to do with me?”

  “With you?” He appeared to think that one over in such a studied manner that April grew furious.

  “Do you intend to just leave me here?” she demanded. “Why are we at this truck stop?”

  He smiled with a wry twist of his lips that could only be described as sexy. “You look good in silk and leather. Nice combination.” He cocked his head in the general direction of the door. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

  “I’m not going in there!” April declared, appalled. She glanced down at herself and inwardly groaned. A wavy line of grime ran along the hem of her dress. The silken fabric was covered with tiny pulled threads, and sequins either dangled precariously or had been ripped off altogether. The dress was ruined. But regardless of that, she wasn’t about to set foot inside a truck stop wearing an evening gown.

  “Fine. You can wait out here.”

  “I don’t have any shoes!”

  April watched in amazement as he strode away. He entered the building without a backward glance.

  She drew a long breath and looked up at the stars. Her eyes burned. Her throat felt hot and tight. What a terrible night. Tasha Bennington was the Pink Carnation Ball queen, and she’d made Lance her latest conquest. April felt sick and dizzy from too much beer. And now she was miles from home in the company of a stranger she didn’t trust. Without a nickel to her name.

  “Jesse Cawthorne,” she muttered on a half sob, dropping the helmet on the seat. She wanted to kick his damn motorcycle.

  A huge man with an even huger belly sauntered outside, a baseball cap stuck precariously on his massive head. He spied April and slid her a grin. A toothpick bobbed in one corner of his mouth.

  It was enough. Taking a deep breath, April stalked past him and through the door. She searched the room for Jesse. She could feel male eyes watching her curiously, and setting her teeth, she boldly strode past the rows of booths, glad the length of her skirt hid her bare feet. She found Jesse seated in a booth in the corner. He, too, was watching her approach.

  “Thanks a lot,” she sniffed, jerking off his jacket and tossing it at him as she slipped into the seat opposite him.

  She saw his gaze skate almost involuntarily down her throat to the plunging neckline and hesitate briefly at the swelling mounds of her breasts. April raised a protective hand to her chest. She couldn’t help herself.

  “When are you going to take me home?” she asked, glancing away. In the light of the restaurant she got her first clear look at him. His eyes were an unusual amber color, framed by thick lashes. His mouth was thin and sensual. The stubble on his chin and the long hair gave him a raffish air that April somehow found disturbing. “I’ve seen you somewhere before. I just know it.”

  He shook his head. “I would have remembered.”

  “But you’re so familiar.”

  “Jordan Taylor’s my brother.”

  April lips parted in surprise. So that was it. Now that he’d told her, she saw the similarities: the same golden hair, the same determined chin and aristocratic nose. But Jordan was a clown, his expression wild and exaggerated, his mouth full and always smiling. Jesse’s face could have been carved in stone, his lips a straight line. The only smiles he offered were wry and sardonic.

  “What did you mean about someone blackmailing you?” April asked.

  He shrugged. “It’s a family matter.”

  “Something to do with Jordan?”

  “More or less.”

  Curiosity piqued, April was about to ask more when one of the waitresses came up to their table, pulling out a notepad. “Well, now, what would you folks like to eat?”

  “Hello, Sandra,” Jesse greeted her. “How about breakfast – eggs, bacon, toast, coffee? I’ve got to get to work in a few hours.”

  “Work?” April asked.

  He nodded. “You want anything to eat?”

  “I, uh, what time is it?”

  “About one,” Sandra put in helpfully, turning a smile on April. “Nice dress, honey.”

  One o’clock! April nearly choked. Her curfew was one thirty. She turned beseeching aquamarine eyes in Jesse’s direction. “I’m going to be late.”

  His expression told her she should have thought of that before.

  “Coffee, please,” she murmured.

  “You probably need to eat something. You’ve had a lot to drink.”

  “I’m fine,” she said stubbornly.

  They sat in silence after Sandra left, April deflated and testy, Jesse cool and impassive. Jesse’s breakfast arrived along with April’s coffee. She hated coffee, but for some reason she wanted to feel grown-up and sophisticated. He put her at a disadvantage.

  She watched him make short work of his meal. Taking an experimental sip of her coffee, she tried hard to swallow the bitter stuff without choking.
She saw Jesse lift a brow and she glared at him. “Something on your mind?” he asked.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  She clenched her teeth. “Do I get to go home soon, or are you taking me to work, too?”

  “You’re overdressed for the mill. What’s the matter with your coffee?”

  “I don’t drink coffee, all right?” April set the cup down so hard that the brown liquid sloshed over her hand. Snatching a napkin from the vintage metal dispenser, she wiped her fingers with short, jerky strokes. “Please take me home,” she requested in a small voice.

  He leaned back, lifting his arms behind his head. April saw the hard muscles of his biceps, the taut skin tanned a deep brown. His fairness was pleasing against that dark skin, and April’s eyes kept turning back for more.

  “All right,” he said suddenly, leaning on one hip to pull his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. She could see the waistband of his jeans pulled tightly against his stomach, and the lean curve of his thigh. It was an intimidating move, and April dragged her gaze away.

  He tossed several bills onto the table, grabbed his jacket and rose to his feet. Sandra came back and winked at him. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow,” he agreed.

  This time he waited for April to accompany him, and she was glad for the small courtesy. She walked ahead of him, keeping her eyes from meeting those of the men sprawled in the other booths.

  “Hey, Cawthorne. Who ya got there?” asked a tall, lean-faced man in a dirty, gray shirt. April slipped him a glance, thinking him the most evil-looking man she’d seen in a long time. Her skin crawled.

  “Princess April,” Jesse drawled.

  “Really? That what you are, sweetheart? A princess?”

  April didn’t answer. The man’s long leg was half out of the booth, obstructing her path. She was afraid to step over it. “Excuse me,” she murmured.

  His hand was wrapped around a mug of beer. Thrusting the glass into April’s hand, he invited, “Come on in sit down a minute. I won’t bite.”

  “No, thank you,” April said frostily. She glanced back at Jesse. His look of amusement infuriated her. So she was on her own with this guy, huh? Well, fine. “Could you please move your leg?” she snapped to the stranger, setting down the mug firmly on the Formica-topped table.

  “Whoa,” he drawled, grinning. “Come on, Princess. Just for a minute. Jesse don’t mind.” To April’s horror he wrapped a grimy palm around her wrist.

  Jesse’s hand quickly latched onto the man’s forearm. “Sorry, Ray,” he apologized quietly. “This princess is mine for tonight.”

  “Well, hell.” Ray lifted his hand in a gesture of surrender. “Next time, then.”

  In the sultry night air outside the restaurant April turned angrily on Jesse. “What a creep! Thanks for jumping to my rescue!”

  “Look, I don’t need to try to save your virginity. Next time you need help, ask someone else.”

  April mouth dropped open. “You’ve really got some nerve!”

  “Have I? Did I jump onto a motorcycle with some stranger I’ve never met before? Did I beg to be taken along?” He was glaring at her.

  “Why are you so mad?” April demanded. “I didn’t ask to be brought here. I just wanted to get away from… Three Bears.”

  “Here.” He thrust his jacket back at her. When April didn’t move, he ordered tersely, “Put it on!”

  His tone brooked no argument. Angry now, April thrust her arms through the sleeves, yanked on her helmet and climbed on behind him. She wrapped her hands around his hard stomach and pressed close as he tore down the road in the direction of Rock Springs.

  Without another word he challenged the speed limit all the way into town. April’s hair was a tangled mass by the time they were twisting upward along the well-tended roads to Windsor Estates. Wrought iron gates and eight-foot-high hedges swept past her blurred vision. Unerringly Jesse drove her right to her house, circling outside the open gate. The motorcycle throbbed in the still air.

  “Good night,” he said, when she made no effort to climb off.

  April stared at the Tudor house that was her home. Would her father still be awake? Her mother? How could she explain no shoes? No purse? No shoes? The state of her dress? She didn’t even want to think about her hair.

  She slid off her helmet and handed it to him as he took his off as well. Across the road was Windsor Estates Park. April glanced from her home to the park entrance. Huge rhododendron bushes, burgeoning with flowers, guarded the driveway like diligent sentries.

  “I think I’ll take a walk in the park,” she said, sliding to her feet.

  Jesse’s head snapped around. “What? Now?” he questioned incredulously. “I thought you were late.”

  “I am. I don’t want to go home.”

  “You can’t go into the park alone.”

  “What are you? My conscience?”

  He cut the engine with a frustrated flick of his wrist. “You’ve been seen with me tonight,” he pointed out. “If something should happen to you, I’d have a tough time explaining it wasn’t by me.”

  “Don’t do me any favors!” April was furious with this final slap in the face. Gathering her dress, she marched across the road to the park, then broke into a run, the grass cool beneath her feet. She wanted to run away from everything. From home. From herself. From the future.

  She ran straight for the center of the park, to the circular grove of trees that sheltered the small, cozy glen. Jesse was right on her heels, and as soon as she slowed down, his hand yanked her around, causing her to stumble and grasp at his arms for support.

  He swore violently, scaring her. “Trying to get yourself attacked? Because that’s sure as hell what’s going to happen if you don’t start using your head!”

  “What do you care? I’m just a rich girl from Windsor Estates. I saw the way you looked at me when you found out who I was. I know what you’re thinking!”

  “I doubt it,” he said curtly.

  “You think I don’t have a brain in my head. That I’m spoiled. That I live by daddy’s charge card. Well, you know what? You’re right!” She jerked her arm free of his grasp. “So leave me alone. If I’m attacked, I’ll make sure I don’t finger you!”

  “If you’re alive.”

  “Go to hell.”

  April’s hair fluttered around her face in the soft breeze. She brushed it back impatiently, the movement causing the jacket to part and her breasts to push against the low neckline of her ivory gown.

  She was too angry to be aware of it, but Jesse wasn’t. His gaze unwillingly skated down once more to the smooth flesh pressed against the silken dress.

  She was trouble. The kind of trouble he’d been careful to avoid for the better part of twenty-five years. He had his own reasons for loathing the Windsor Estates brats; his mother had cleaned enough of their houses to make him see the difference in lifestyle in the most cutting way. If he was smart, he’d just leave April Hollis where she was.

  Unfortunately, a small, chivalrous part of him couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, thinking of her alone in the park. Not that this wasn’t an elite part of town, but who knew what kind of scum were out, waiting for such a golden opportunity? April Hollis was ripe for the taking.

  “Well?” she challenged now, as if expecting some further response.

  Jesse frowned in annoyance. It had been bad enough watching Jordan make a drunken fool of himself. One more brush with the law and the kid would end up in jail. But now this young vixen was getting under his skin. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your house.”

  “I’m not ready to go.”

  “Too bad.” He yanked at her upper arm, feeling the soft skin give beneath his callused fingers. She tried to stand her ground when he moved, and he pulled again, impatiently. She tumbled forward into his arms.

  They were both startled. Jesse pushed her away with unnecessary force. He kept his hard
grip on her upper arms, however, and glared down at her.

  Her eyes were wide and luminous. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” she pointed out. “You grabbed me.”

  “I know I did,” he said through his teeth. How did he get himself into these situations?

  The way she looked at him made him feel uncomfortable. He could sense her restlessness. To his annoyance, his body reacted with eagerness.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, peering up into his eyes.

  It happened without rational thought. One moment he was fighting an inner battle, the next he was drawing her closer, with infinite slowness. She didn’t battle, nor did she cry for help. Her eyes narrowed, and she drew back as far as his grip allowed.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  The breathless quality of her voice was a sensual rub. Jesse was no more interested in sex with a Windsor Estates girl than he was in looking after his fool of a brother, Jordan. But he sure was feeling frustrated, and taking it out on her was as good a cure for both of them as anything he could think of.

  He loosened his hand and lifted one to smooth her hair away from her forehead. His fingers followed the curve of her cheekbone, coming to rest beneath her chin.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said, but her tone was soft and hushed.

  Jesse bent down and held her gaze for a painful instant, then touched his lips to hers. April’s mouth quivered betrayingly. What an innocent, he thought, wrapping his arms around her small waist, dragging her against the hard outlines of his body. His mouth crushed down demandingly.

  April almost choked on a gasp. She’d never been kissed like this! Lance’s attempt had been somewhat bashful and over eager, easy to control. But this! His mouth slanted over hers, moving persuasively. His hands were tight and his body was rigid. Her blood crashed in her ears, and she knew a moment of real fear.

  But then the moment passed. Sliding through her veins was a new kind of sensation, something sweet and hot and dangerous. Tentatively she returned that devastating kiss, and her heart flip-flopped at the probing touch of his tongue against her teeth.

  She was afraid to think what was going through his mind. Her own was a jumble of impressions. She opened her mouth, allowing him entry, and the swift thrust of his tongue made her knees tremble and give way. She slipped forward, but his right arm held her easily, as if she were a feather-light ragdoll. His tongue made swift, stabbing motions that wrung a moment of pure pleasure from her throat. She was powerless. Weightless. Even the touch of his hand, moving up her rib cage against the silk of her dress, stopping just beneath her breast, couldn’t bring her back to sanity.