Jennifer Probst - The Marriage Merger

A smile curved his lips. “As you wish,” he murmured.

Her body loosened. Her tongue flicked across her lower lip again, and she smiled. “Grazie.”

He nodded, and she rose. Shrugged on her jacket.

Grabbed her purse. Sawyer guided her out of the restaurant with a hand at her elbow and tried to calm the rush of adrenaline tightening his muscles and strangling his breath.

His last thought flashed like a mantra over and over again.

Let the challenge begin.

Julietta picked her head up and stretched the kinks from her neck. The stack of files was only half cleared, and her cup of cappuccino had long grown cold. A dull throb behind her eyes warned her time was almost up. Mio Dio, how long had she been working? A quick glance at her watch confirmed four steady hours with no break. A sigh broke from her lips and surprised her. Usually she enjoyed her Saturday mornings in her apartment, taking care of all the loose ends she had no time to close during the week.

Coffee, paper, her laptop, a little music, and she was content. except . . .

She stared out her window. The gleam of sun rarely seen in the moody month of February strained from the thick clouds in a screw-you gesture. Julietta unfurled her legs from her chair and strode over to the window, peering at the scene below her. The roar of motorcycles and mo-peds echoed from the streets in an attempt to squeeze in as much riding as possible on a nice day.

She pressed her palm to the cool pane and pondered the idea. Funny: Since her last encounter with Sawyer, the rare edge of wildness nipped at her usual logical self, daring her to break routine and echo the sentiment of the current weather.

Screw it. Work could wait.

She made the decision and didn’t look back. She was going riding for the rest of the afternoon. Her fingers itched to grab the bars of her bike and stop thinking for a little while. With her consistent workaholic tendencies and slight oCD, she tipped the scales of exhaustion too many times.

At least she’d found an acceptable outlet other than ther-apy.

Motorcycles.

She paused to fix the slight tilt of the three photos on the mantel and headed to the bedroom. She changed in re-cord time, donning supple Prada pants, boots, and a simple cashmere sweater. She shrugged on her leather jacket, took her helmet down from the top of the closet, stuffed her phone in her hobo bag, and left.

She walked the necessary blocks until she came to the small storage garage where she kept her bike. The wind was frisky, but she’d layered enough to stay decently warm for the trip. Mentally calculating the miles she wanted to ac-complish, she decided on an easy route toward Navigli.

Julietta stepped in front of her secret obsession and her skin tingled as if she gazed at a lover.

Perfection.

Naked twisted metal and sleek black made up the machine, which was in a class by itself. The brand-new Moto Morini Corsaro had all the elements she admired and demanded in a bike. Speed. Lightweight. Agility. And raw, sexy, growling hp.

Her tummy dipped, and she tugged on her leather gloves. Her hidden obsession with fast bikes came straight from her brother, Michael, but her sisters just didn’t understand it. especially because she was the straitlaced one in the family. How many times had she picked Michael’s brain about his racecars and tried to steal his motorcycles for a ride? She’d dreamed of having the bike of all bikes on her own terms, and finally she’d achieved her goal.

She lifted her leg to slide over the seat, and her cell rang.

Porca vacca. She almost ignored it, but too many years of habit took over, so she had to at least glance at the ID.

She reached in her bag and pulled the phone out. After looking, she let her finger hesitate on the button only a second before pushing it.

“yes?”

“Ciao bella. Why don’t you sound happier to hear from me?”

She tamped down on her impatience and reminded herself this was the deal of the century. Politeness was key.

“I’m sorry, Sawyer, I was just getting ready to go out for a bit. How can I help you?”

“oh, good. I need to go over something in the contract.

Why don’t you stop by my place and we’ll finish it up?”

Julietta scowled at the phone. “It’s not a good time right now. Perhaps tomorrow?”

Silence hummed. An irritated masculine silence. “I’m not one to invade a business partner’s personal life, but this is a huge undertaking for Purity. I need to know you’re on board in this delicate time. one hundred percent.”

She practically spit into the receiver. “I’ve just spent the bulk of my Saturday at the computer. I’m completely on board, so to speak. Can we settle it over the phone?”

“No. Where are you going? Can I meet you?”

She stared at her bike with a lustful need that shook her bones. “I’m going riding for the next few hours. How about I stop by afterward and we’ll settle the items up for negotiation?”

“riding what? A bicycle?”

She couldn’t help the automatic scoff that came from her mouth. “No: motorcycle.”

He paused for a beat. “Perfect. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you at the Duomo.”

Julietta gaped. “What? No—no, you can’t go with me.

I’m going motorcycle riding.”

“I heard you the first time. I promise not to bully you with my bike. See you soon.”

The phone clicked.

She blinked and tried desperately to keep her sanity.

This was not happening. Her peaceful, stress-blowing bike ride was turning into a business trip with a man she needed to avoid at all costs. She analyzed the options of not showing or calling back to cancel, but she already sensed the domineering man wouldn’t answer. And if she didn’t show up for their impromptu meeting, he could decide to pull the contract.

Julietta blew out a breath of disgust and climbed on the bike. The low thrum of the engine kicked into gear, and she took off toward the center of town, weaving expertly through traffic and keeping her speed down until she hit open turf and let it rip.

She gave him credit. Her watch just hit the fifteen mark when she saw him pull up. Julietta tried hard not to show any surprise at his choice of ride. She’d expected a brash American Harley, but damn him, he’d managed to up his game without even trying.

She flipped up her visor and flicked him a cool glance.

“Nice bike. Where’s your Harley?”

The total hotness of male perfection on the MV Agusta F4CC was criminal. In faded, tight jeans, a leather bomber jacket, and vintage riding boots, he cut a bad-boy-meets-surfer figure that almost killed her. Almost. He slowly un-buckled his helmet and slid it off his head to cradle in the crook of his arm. Then shook out his shaggy blond hair. His quick grin flashed that crooked front tooth. “you’re not cutting up on the American phenomenon of the Harley, are you darlin’? That could get you shot in the U.S.”

She gave a delicate shrug. He never needed to know she secretly loved the American classic. “Good thing I’m not there. How’d you get one of those? There were only one hundred made.”

He dropped his voice to a dirty whisper. “I know people. They owe me favors.”

Her spine tingled with anticipation. The hungry look as his gaze roved over her body caught her hard, but she ral-lied. “What do we need to discuss?”

He laughed low. “Nothing at the moment. Where are we going?”

She drew her brows together and tried to be firm.

“Nowhere. We’ll discuss business, and then I’m going riding.”

“Where?”

She shrugged. “Wherever I feel like.”

“Sounds like a plan. We’ll stop for a break and talk business later. you lead.”

Julietta squirmed with the need to wipe the smug look off his face. “I’m trying to be polite here, but you’re making it difficult. I don’t feel like making social conversation today.”

“Who said anything about conversation?”

Her spit dried up and she held back an actual pant.

Those full lips quirked as if he knew her body’s reaction.

“If you can’t keep up, I’m not waiting for you. This is my time,” she said.

His slow grin taunted and pushed all the right buttons.

or the wrong ones. “I’ll admit my surprise at your choice of The Pirate. But can you handle her, little girl? Perhaps I’ll be the one waiting for you to catch up.”

Julietta snapped her helmet down, kicked her bike into gear, and gave him a pitying look. “See you on the other side.”

She took off.

They rode through the city, battled traffic, and finally hit stride. The streets opened up and spit them out as the city rolled by and the gorgeous hills of the Alps shimmered in the distance like a mirage. The sun fought like the king it was and triumphed over the grayness for a few hours. Traffic was lighter than normal for a Saturday, and she headed toward Navigli. Julietta rode hard, pushing the machine into full gear and squeezing out more horsepower. The flash of the road underneath the wheels, the tug of the cold wind in her nostrils, the whiz of vivid blue and green and yellow of the colorful buildings all rose up and mixed together in a symphony of sweetness to her soul. For a little while, on a fast bike, in her beloved land, she was truly free.

They stopped for a break at a small café near the canal and bought lunch. They parked their bikes and stretched their legs in a leisurely walk. The market was open and bustling, and a boat slugged slowly down the water, charm-ing the tourists with an old-world yet Bohemian influence.

Filled with endless trinkets, clothes, food, and jewelry, Navigli boasted one of the most wonderful markets in Milan. In the evening, the place came alive with a variety of hip-hop nightclubs, cafés, and shopping. With sunset approaching soon, the crowds would build, so Julietta stuffed their water and uneaten wrapped food into her saddlebag and took off again.

She gave him credit. Sawyer never said a word.

But his gaze followed every swing of her hips and caught her sneaky half glances. The man’s ass was compa-rable to David’s, and Michelangelo’s statue had brought her to tears.

Julietta looked at the sky. Not too much longer before dark hit. She craved the bite of adrenaline she usually achieved from the closure of a good business deal. But she’d just found another way to get her hit.

Julietta stopped her bike, cocked her hip, and made the offer. “I’m heading toward Castello Sforzesco. There’s a nice open road to let the bikes breathe. Let’s see who gets there first.”

Surprise skittered across his face. “you wanna race?”

“Call it what you want. I plan on welcoming you at the gate.”

He threw his head back and laughed long and hard. The sound was sweeter than Mozart and sexier than Pavarotti.

“you’ve got to be kidding. This baby has more balls than most bikes on the market.”

She smiled sweetly. “I’m sure you both do. See you there.”

Julietta’s skin prickled with anticipation, and the blood in her veins heated and rushed with the challenge.

She took off toward Castello Sforzesco in a race to beat the dying sun and the man beside her. Julietta hated to admit he rode like a pro and handled the meatiness of the bike with a grace most men couldn’t imitate. She’d ridden with many men throughout her lifetime: some family, some friends, some lovers. Usually she was disappointed in the aggression and selfishness of the rider.

Not Sawyer. He respected the power of Claudio Castiglioni’s prized possession, never trying to reach the 196 mph the bike was reputed to achieve, and instead using the mechanics like a lover, coaxing the best with a seductive skill that made her soaking wet between her thighs. He was also a dominant driver, fully in control through each bend of the road, fiercely concentrating on his goal.

Brash for brash, he should’ve won. But Julietta had been racing for years, knew the streets like an old lover, and excelled at weaving in and out through obstacles in the bustling city. She eventually took the lead and held it tight, pushing the limit of speed and agility as the rush burned through her and took command.

When she finally reached the castle, she was a few beats ahead. The towering stone ruins dominated the view, but the quiet park behind the structure was her main focus. She cut off the bike, unfastened her helmet, and waited for him to cut his engine.